How Should the God of the Internet Be Worshipped?

"Pant... pant..."

The boy's rapid, heavy breathing left his lungs dry and burning. Every gulp of air was excruciatingly painful.

Yet he kept running desperately. The physical agony could not conceal the wild joy on his young face.

The ground in the Slums was wet and slippery. With every step, mud mixed with who knew what squished out between his toes, leaving them unable to grip the ground.

He slipped and fell flat on his face, filthy from head to toe.

But without the slightest hesitation, he scrambled up and ran on.

At last, he reached his destination.

It was a narrow alley, with shanties piled together on both sides from stone, wood, and thatch.

Though the place did not seem large, countless homes had been crammed into it. Every winter, the accumulated snow would crush one or two of them.

People flowed back and forth through the narrow passageway.

"Pant... pant..."

The boy braced his hands on his knees and sucked in several deep breaths. Once he had recovered a little, he screamed hysterically, "Huge news... pant... Great Mage Theodore said... from now on, all of us—every single one of us—can cultivate Magic!"

As the boy screamed at the top of his lungs, the shantytown fell silent.

Countless people turned to look at him.

A breath later, uproarious laughter swept through the shantytown.

"Ha ha ha..."

"Mud Doll, did you steal money from some mercenary master again and get beaten stupid?"

"You little fool, are you having fun at our expense? You're asking for a beating!"

All kinds of mocking curses rang out through the shantytown.

"It's true... I'm not lying!"

The boy was dumbfounded. His face, already flushed from running, turned even redder.

"Stop running around outside and help your mother with some work."

"That's right. All you do all day is steal and loaf around."

The neighbors began scolding him.

"I didn't! It's true! Master Theodore said it himself in front of the Magic Tower!" The boy was so anxious that he stamped his feet. He desperately tried to explain, but no one believed him. Who could blame them, given his terrible reputation?

No, rather, what he was saying was simply too absurd.

Magic had always been something only noble masters could cultivate. How could lowly commoners like them possibly qualify to learn it?

The neighbors' ridicule made his mother rush over in a furious panic. She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him home.

Along the way, the boy saw his second granduncle grinning at him with yellowed old teeth; Bucktooth Uncle threw scraps at him; Pretty Aunt leaned untidily out of a window, giggling at him.

The boy grew desperate.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He shouted:

"Great existence from the Azure Star, you are the Overlord of language and writing, the creator of the Internet. Under your protection, I shall connect with all living beings and all things."

As his words fell, a scroll glowing with a soft radiance appeared before him.

At that moment, the laughter throughout the alley came to an abrupt halt!

The dilapidated courtyard that had been temporarily requisitioned as a school was packed with people.

A closer look showed that almost all of them had rough, dark skin and wore patched hemp clothes so dirty that they had clearly not been washed in ages.

Obviously, nearly all of them were lower-class commoners from nearby.

At the moment, the place was as chaotic as a marketplace.

Children crowded at the front, while adults stood behind them, baring yellow teeth and chatting animatedly, spittle flying everywhere.

"Old Cai, you came to learn to read too?"

"Yep!"

"I'm telling you, at our age, learning Magic won't be easy!"

"Ah, who said anything about Magic? I was thinking maybe I could learn some Battle Qi, strengthen my body, and work better! Even if that doesn't work, I could at least check out the Empire's Official Website. I heard Long Sleeve Suan say it has everything on it. It's really interesting."

"Yeah, I heard that from the literate folks in the village too. I always thought the Empire only had the emperor, city lords, and Master Mages. I never expected there to be so much more to it."

While the adults discussed practical matters, the children were arguing red-faced over who was stronger!

"The Magic Gods are the strongest! The strongest people in our Empire are the three Magic Gods!"

"Bullshit! The God of the Internet is the strongest! He's a true god."

"Magic Gods are gods too! They're the strongest among mages, even stronger than Master Gamblin!"

"Anyway, the God of the Internet is the strongest."

"Then tell me, what can the God of the Internet do? Can he control flames? Can he summon Ice Spikes? Can he make holes appear in the Earth?"

"He can... he can make the Internet! If you've got the guts, don't use the Internet!"

"That's right! If you've got the guts, don't use the Internet. Don't go online to learn Magic either."

"The Magic on the Internet belongs to the God of the Internet. He must be the strongest."

Just as the children argued until their faces were bright red, someone suddenly shouted, "Quiet!"

"Quiet, quiet! The teacher is here!"

With those cries, the courtyard, which had been clamoring noisily only a moment ago, fell instantly silent the next second.

A young man with a haughty expression walked onto the stone-built platform.

He looked contemptuously at the lowly commoners gazing up at him eagerly. Honestly, if teaching had not counted as an official post with a stipend and two hundred Internet Points every month, he would never have come to teach these wretches!

However, when he saw the reverence and yearning in their eyes, a trace of vanity suddenly rose in his heart.

He thought that perhaps teaching was not such a bad choice after all. At least it was far better than being ordered around like a dog at the City Lord's Mansion.

Beneath the Silver Star Tree, its canopy spread like a crown, an elderly couple carefully opened an envelope that a mercenary had delivered along the way.

It was a letter from their son.

It was the first letter they had received from him in two months, yet the envelope contained only a single lonely sheet of paper.

Rather than the usual family chatter, the letter described something called Internet Divine Art.

Honestly, if the Master Mages in the city had not been sending people down the streets every day to shout about it, the old couple would have feared that their son had been bewitched by some Evil God.

"Our boy sent us his Soul Number!"

The old man shouted excitedly to his wife.

"What? What Soul Number?"

"It's that personal number on the Internet... Ah, you wouldn't understand even if I explained. Just wait!"

After a brief explanation, the old man slowly recited the prayer recorded in the letter—the same few lines the Master Mages had been having people promote over the past two days.

As he chanted, the Internet's signature Phantom Scroll unfolded before him.

Following the instructions in his son's letter, the old man spent half an hour before finally adding his son's account.

After repeatedly confirming that he had entered the number correctly, he pressed the virtual confirm button. Within mere seconds, Internet Social notified him that the other party had accepted.

Before the old man could figure out what to do next,

a small Phantom Scroll suddenly popped up on the larger one.

His son's unique Soul Mark was clearly displayed on it, with two text options below: Reject and Answer.

The old man tapped Answer.

In an instant, the sound of a voice blurred his vision with tears.

"Father, is that you?"

"Oh, is that our boy?" The old man had not spoken when his wife grabbed him and raised her voice in delighted surprise.

"Mom, it's me."

"Oh, where are you? Why can't I see you?" The old woman hurriedly called out, turning her head to look around the courtyard.

"I'm at Kamp Port!"

"Ah, you're still there? Then... then why does your voice sound like you're right here in the courtyard?"

"Ha ha ha, Mom, this is a voice call through Internet Divine Art. From now on, we can talk every day!"

"What? Internet Divine Art? Isn't that the thing those Master Mages keep talking about every day?"

The old woman looked at her husband, who replied, "Isn't it exactly that thing?"

The two elders and their son marveled over Internet Divine Art for quite some time before they finally changed the subject and asked about his work.

When they learned that their son was doing quite well with Old Robert, had recently even begun trying to cultivate Magic, had already condensed Soul Power, and had received praise from Old Robert, the two elders were overjoyed.

"Mom, Dad, I have to go. I need to work now. Let's talk again tonight. Oh, and remember to visit a magic item shop and order an Internet Mithril Ring. Logging in with the prayer doesn't last long enough."

"Alright, alright, hurry and get back to work. Take care of yourself. Don't be stingy—buy some meat to eat." The old woman craned her neck toward the call interface and shouted, afraid her son would not hear her.

"Alright, alright, I know, Mom."

Beep!

The call ended, and the parchment floating on the Virtual Scroll vanished with it. The two elders stood where they were, speechless for a long time.

After a long while, the old woman wiped the corner of her eye and said hoarsely, "Old man, how do you think the God of the Internet should be worshipped?"