They call me the Delivery God of War, the True God of the City, the very embodiment of overwhelming superiority.
They don’t know that every hardship I’ve endured, every insult, every slight, every so-called “ambush,” was a script I wrote for myself.
I was once the True Lord Erlang, Heaven’s God of Justice and the mightiest warrior in the Three Realms. Eternal life was too dull, so I sealed my divine nature and reincarnated in the city, starting from nothing to experience mortal joys and sorrows.
So, school bullying? I buy the school. A business war? I rewrite the rules. An ancient cultivator emerges from seclusion? I make him kneel as he speaks. An invasion by a cosmic civilization? Oh, they’re old friends I beat up in my previous life.
My Heavenly Eye can peer into fate; my old subordinates have returned, scattered across the Three Realms. It took only a year to go from delivery rider to ruler of the stars. All my enemies break down when they realize that everything they’ve spent their lives pursuing is less than one-billionth of what I have, and the conspiracies they plotted for millennia were just games I staged for myself during an afternoon nap.
Then the “Lord of Nothingness” descends, seeking to devour every story. I smile. At last, a worthy opponent.
And now the truth is revealed: What ambushes? What powerful enemies? Every challenge was part of the “mortal experience package” I prepared for myself.
Now the game is complete. The gods beg me to reclaim my divine throne. Instead, I hop on my electric scooter and open the delivery app.
“No thanks. Delivering food is more fun.”
Because being the strongest isn’t about controlling the universe. It’s about choosing to remain mortal despite having infinite power.
My story begins now
