Others deliver food, I deliver "the future".
Since my takeout box can connect to the heavens, my style of painting has changed.
I send lighters to the world of cultivation, and they call me the Master of Refining;
Sending vegetable seeds to the wasteland, they knelt and called to the God of Life;
I exchanged a copy of "Basic Chemistry" from the magical world for the principle of forbidden spells.
I grew up in a low-key manner and made a fortune in silence, until the National Ninth Bureau came to visit me, until alien words appeared on the box:
[Warning: Civilization Tester No. 7 Is activated, countdown to zero: 500 years.
It turns out that my box is a tool for higher civilizations to select "fire". The so-called transaction is an assessment of the potential of civilization.
The assessment failed and the universe was "reset".
Looking at the powerful cultivators, mechanical life forms, and deep-sea singers who formed an alliance with me behind me...
I patted the takeout box.
"I used to deliver food, but now I deliver civilization ashore. This order must be given a five-star rating."
