"Please, this way, Divine One," a man with a reverent look said to Tian Wudi.
Wudi placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Thank you, my child." His hand glowed, emanating a power that made the man feel as if Wudi were a true divine messenger. The man dropped to his knees and bowed, utterly convinced. Wudi, wearing a proud but benevolent expression, continued on his way without another glance at the kneeling man.
Wudi soon arrived at a set of stairs. Beyond them, someone was giving an opening address to a large crowd. It seemed the introduction was for Wudi himself.
A large man approached Wudi from behind and, without even looking at him, said, "You did a good job. The venue is more than we could ask for."
"Many will be saved and know God's love," Wudi replied. It appeared he truly believed his own words.
The man countered curtly, "Of course. And the pay is more than enough for me to land a venue like this. This will be the big one." It was clear that the man did not believe and was only there for monetary gain.
"You know we're not a cult, and you've worked for me for a long time. You've felt it too. One day you will believe," Wudi said.
The man looked at Wudi's hand with a somewhat questioning gaze. It was true that he had felt it too and had seen that hand glow with a celestial color, but he was ultimately not a believer. Even so, the memory of that sensation made him question his doubts, if only a little. He nodded at Wudi's words, whether out of habit or something deeper.
Wudi was no stranger to people questioning the afterlife and the Almighty; he could see the doubt written clearly on his agent's face. My hand is real, he reminded himself.
With a proud expression, ready to give the largest sermon of his life, Wudi began to ascend the stairs. I will make the world believe. I am a true son of God. I am the right hand of God! his mind raced. His expression shifted to one of pure benevolence the moment he stepped into the crowd's view. Keeping his hand tucked behind his back, he approached the center of the stage.
Wudi took a shallow breath and began to speak. "I—"
"False god!" yells erupted, and some in the crowd even laughed. It appeared that many people had only shown up to watch Wudi make a fool of himself, but loyal believers immediately began shouting back. Just as a riot seemed about to break out, Wudi raised his hand.
It's my time.
His hand glowed radiantly, his face the very definition of benevolence. Even the hecklers fell quiet, suddenly questioning reality. The light from his hand was more than just illumination; its embrace felt as if the sun itself had wrapped you in a warm blanket.
With a voice that exuded calm, warmth, and unquestionable authority, Tian Wudi spoke: "If I am not the hand of God himself, then may He strike me down!"
The crowd felt a power they assumed to be divine and stared in disbelief. Content with their reaction, Wudi basked in the spotlight, looking up slightly to stare toward the heavens as a smile crept onto his face. Even his agent, who did not believe, stared in wonder, absolutely mystified by what he felt. An aura radiated from Wudi, and not a single person out of the thousands made a sound. They looked on in awe; even the news crews fell silent mid-report, and viewers at home sat like statues, staring at the spectacle.
It was a clear, sunny day without a drop of rain, making the sudden thunder deeply unsettling. The absolute silence of the crowd only made the crash sound all the louder. It was then that a bright blue light from the heavens breached Wudi's golden glow, creating an unforgettable contrast. To the crowd, it looked as though a thin bolt of light shot directly down from the exact spot Wudi was watching, striking him instantly.
The crowd was stunned into a breathless silence as Wudi collapsed.
He lay motionless. As the light faded from his eyes, the smile creeping up his face froze in death, leaving an uncanny expression—almost as if it had been choreographed. Afterward, some would choose to believe it was intentional, that he had saved the world from divine punishment by taking their place. But most believed it was all a big hoax. Only those who were there in person would be left truly questioning what they had felt and seen.
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"My Tian'er..." He could feel a gentle hand ruffling his hair, accompanied by the heavy weight of sadness in a woman's voice.
God? he thought. Realizing he could actually feel his body again, he slowly blinked his eyes open.
A woman with exquisite features, exuding an air of effortless grace, entered his field of vision. He quickly realized he was lying on a bed—and a highly luxurious one at that. As he stared into her tear-filled eyes, a sudden rush of unfamiliar memories and foreign emotions began to flood his mind.
"Mother..." Wudi croaked.
His mother gasped, her sorrow instantly vanishing. "Tian'er, you're awake!"
Looking around the room, Wudi noticed neat stacks of spiritual herbs and a bucket of fresh ice resting by the bedside. "What happened, Mother?"
Pausing to push her lingering shock aside, she replied, "You were hit by tribulation lightning." Her face clouded over with deep thought, clearly pondering how best to explain the situation.
Wudi sat up straight in bed, his jaw dropping. "Lightning?"
"Right. Lightning..."
Wudi sat there, completely dazed. His mind raced back to the modern stage, the massive crowd, the blinding flash, and exactly how he had just died in his previous life.
"I know it's hard to process," his mother said, looking at him with deep concern as she replayed the day's events in her head. "Considering how it all happened..."
"What exactly did happen?" Wudi asked, urgently breaking free from the reverie of his past life.
"I guess it makes sense that you don't remember," she sighed. "You were with your father during the grand clan reunion. He raised a cup to toast your future growth, and you..." She paused, wincing slightly, as if trying to forcefully eject a highly embarrassing memory from her brain.
"And I what?" Wudi pressed, unable to handle the suspense. Her expression was getting weirder by the second.
"Well... you loudly boasted to the entire family that you would either rise to the heavens or be immediately stricken down by them."
Wudi stared at her, utterly shell-shocked.
After a long, agonizing silence, he cleared his throat. "May I... have some time alone to rest?"
"Of course. Your father will be absolutely thrilled to know you're alright." With a joyful smile that completely betrayed her usual dignified behavior, she hurried out of the room.
She must be incredibly excited to tell Father I'm not dead, Wudi thought, rubbing his temples.
Then, the absurdity of his situation truly set in. Wait a minute. I think this was my original life. I started out in this world, transmigrated to Earth, became a fake prophet, got blasted by lightning, and now I'm right back where I started!
Wudi couldn't sort through the massive web of cosmic memories all at once, but one thing was absolutely certain: he was no divine messenger. The grand, mystical "prophet" Tian Wudi of Earth was officially gone—and he seriously needed to stop daring the heavens to strike him down.