Everyone fell silent.
Just as clamor and commotion were about to sweep through the venue, a single small gesture from this Chosen One instantly rendered the entire hall pin-drop quiet.
Cheng Shi's jaw nearly hit the floor.
'Dude?!'
'You just sat on the Grand Marshal's lap?'
'Huh?'
'What's next — the marshal goes to war with a "little wifey" in tow?'
Cheng Shi was dumbstruck.
He wasn't alone. Every last person in the room was stupefied.
Only the distinguished gentleman seated alongside Hu Wei in the first row seed to have expected this. The mont The Prisoner chose Hu Wei instead of him, he quietly exhaled in relief — and the faintest smile tugged at his lips.
Still — credit where it was due. This Silence Chosen One's ability to manufacture silence was genuinely...
Eye-opening.
Godlike, even.
Cheng Shi watched with amusent. The crowd found it hilarious. But the man involved certainly didn't share the sentint.
A vein throbbed on Hu Wei's forehead. Staring down at The Prisoner perched in his lap, he instantly drew a greatsword erupting with blood and fire. But the mont he was about to strike, the enormous crystal magic lamps on the ceiling went dark.
Blackness engulfed everyone's vision. All that remained was the churning fire on the greatsword, illuminating The Prisoner's bald head and the Grand Marshal's thunderous face.
But in that instant, nobody cared about the two-person stack in the front row. Startled cries rang out. Nearly everyone snapped into defensive postures, guarding against opportunistic chaos. Yet with so many people present, unsettling sounds rose from certain directions — even screams and wails.
The loudest commotion, though, ca from the first row.
No one saw clearly what happened. They only caught a blood-red rainbow arcing through the dark, followed by a surge of searing heat flooding the hall.
In those towering heat waves, the sound of fist hitting flesh rang like clashing steel. The radiating flas sent nearby attendees scrambling backward in alarm.
Cheng Shi's heart lurched. He, too, leaned back three inches — and that single motion nearly made Cui Qiushi behind him draw his weapon.
A small shield materialized in Cui Qiushi's palm.
Fortunately, the man in front had only taken a defensive position without further action. But his reaction left Cui Qiushi even more confused.
'He's never turned around. He even dared press his back toward . Why?'
'How is he so certain I won't hurt him?'
'Does he know ?'
'No — I'm sure I've never seen him.'
'So... who is he? Is it him?'
'No, he said he'd act alone and wouldn't et with us. It can't be him.'
Regardless, as long as no genuine hostility was shown, Cui Qiushi wouldn't strike first.
He stared at Cheng Shi's head in the darkness for a mont, then decisively shifted back one seat.
Cheng Shi sensed Cui Qiushi's movent and twitched his mouth in wordless exasperation.
"..."
'Great — gave the bodyguard a stress reaction.'
But this wasn't sothing he could explain away. He'd just have to stay put for now.
Just then, the hall — which had been dark for only seconds — lit up again. Several blinding spotlights converged on the stage's center, illuminating a short-haired man in a black tuxedo wearing a cartoon mask.
The room went quiet instantly. Whether the scuffles had ended or the shadows simply couldn't survive in the light, every attendee greeted this "host" with "tacit silence."
Cheng Shi stole a peek at the front row. At so point, The Prisoner had vanished, and Grand Marshal Hu Wei was back in his own seat.
Though from his posture, his foot... seed to be stepping on sothing.
"..."
But not everyone's attention was on Hu Wei and The Prisoner. Most eyes were drawn to the man at center stage, gazing suspiciously at this figure who'd appeared from nowhere and triggered the chaos.
The masked man laughed broadly. He swept a 360-degree bow to the surrounding audience, then spread his arms and called out with barely contained excitent:
"Good evening! Welco to the stage of diocre people!
Allow , in tonight's enchanting moonlight, to extend my sincerest welco to all the... diocre people in attendance."
It sounded like an insult, but no one challenged him. Everyone observed the host in silence, harboring their own thoughts.
The masked man seed to relish the spotlight. He spun in an elegant circle, presenting his image from every angle.
Honestly, between his appearance, his hosting style, and everything Cheng Shi had observed in the venue, he could already eliminate several faith candidates for this mystery host:
Prosperity, Order, Folly, Silence.
But these were only guesses. After all, so Silence followers were surprisingly chatty. So a Folly follower being sociable, an Order follower not maintaining order, or a Prosperity follower with short hair weren't impossible either.
While Cheng Shi's thoughts wandered, the masked host continued in an elevated tone:
"Perhaps you've already guessed. I am the convener of this gathering of diocre people, and the most self-aware diocre person among us all.
My surna is Gong. If you don't mind, you can call —"
"Old Gong?" a voice shouted.
"..."
"..."
"..."
The hall went silent again. But shortly after, muffled laughter rippled through the crowd.
Cheng Shi's mouth twitched. Unsurprisingly, he looked toward Hu Wei's direction.
And that "Old Gong" had indeed co from beneath his feet — from the Silence Chosen One, The Prisoner.
Yes. Beneath his feet.
There lay The Prisoner, pinned under the Grand Marshal's boot, face-down on the ground, craning his neck upward to interject with the flattest expression imaginable — as though his current situation were the most natural thing in the world.
No one else found it normal.
Cheng Shi was impressed. Thoroughly, completely impressed.
He decided this so-called Chosen One was unexpectedly formidable.
The Prisoner's single "Old Gong" had struck the man on stage into silence.
The masked man froze mid-sentence, raised a hand to rub his temples, shook his head with a rueful smile, then quickly found his rhythm again.
He looked in The Prisoner's direction with an unfazed grin:
"Calling
'Old Gong' is moving rather fast. If you're serious, feel free to contact
privately after the gathering. Whether you're a follower of Birth or a devotee of Corruption, I believe I can make a modest contribution to your piety.
But right now!
My ti belongs to every diocre person here."
With a slightly suggestive joke, the masked man elegantly sidestepped the "Old Gong" topic, then laughed loudly and prepared to resu his speech.
But to his dismay, The Prisoner had no intention of stopping. He produced a phone from sowhere, pressed it to the number pad with both hands, and asked with genuine earnestness:
"Perfect — what's your number? I'll write it down. I'll call you the second this wraps up."
"..."
"..."
"..."
The venue fell silent yet again. The masked man stood frozen for a long mont before slowly turning back to face him.
This ti he didn't engage. Instead, wearing a half-smile, he addressed Grand Marshal Hu Wei:
"I don't suppose it was you, sir, who put him up to this?"
Hu Wei scoffed, ground his heel slightly harder — shoving The Prisoner's face into the carpet — and replied:
"My apologies. Ever since the family dog learned to talk, he won't stop running his mouth. I'll keep him in line."
The masked man stared for a long beat, slowly nodded, then turned once more to address the rest of the crowd.
But just then, the trampled Prisoner interrupted him again.
"Woof woof woof woof woof woof woof...!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
'He's literally a dog!'
Cheng Shi was numb. Half laughing, half crying at the spectacle, he suddenly felt a twinge of sympathy for Silence.
'Does that omnipresent deity know His follower is like this?'
'While other gods' Chosen Ones are being aloof, mysterious, or strategically pulling strings from the shadows... His Chosen One is barking like a dog under soone's boot...'
'Putting on entertainnt this hilarious doesn't exactly seem like practicing His will. It's more like sothing Deceit would do. So, God of Silence...'
'You wouldn't happen to be Deceit's alt account, would You?'
...
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