Which God Should Take the Blame? Waiting Online, Urgent

Divine Revelation?

Captain Karen's eyes lit up at once.

The healing spell earlier had greatly restored his vitality. Coupled with the excitement of the good news, two faint flushes even appeared on his pale, bloodless cheeks:

"Divine Revelation? Wonderful, Little Grete!"

Gret felt warmth well up in his heart. He knew why Uncle Karen was so happy: becoming clergy, even the lowest-ranking kind, meant that for the original owner of this body—a common soldier in the City Guard—it was a single step across the class divide. From the common folk, straight into the middle class.

The most obvious comparison was the coarse linen vests worn by the soldiers and Little Freckles' fine linen robe.

Not to mention receiving Divine Revelation directly without undergoing the church's education and training—

A saint!

One of the chosen!

One favored by the gods!

A broad road to heaven lay right before him.

When faced with another person's good fortune, some people in this world were filled with envy, while others could not care less. But Uncle Karen was genuinely happy for the owner of this body, for the child he had watched grow up...

Gret's heart softened and warmed, and he smiled back. Yet the next moment, his smile froze on his face. Once Uncle Karen had finished celebrating, he immediately asked:

"Which god?"

Gret: "..."

Right, which god? His medical skills should logically fall under a god of medicine, so Shennong, Bian Que, Hua Tuo? That did not seem right either. Everyone here had Western faces—bringing out a Chinese god would be way too strange!

Or Apollo? Asclepius?... Hippocrates?

No, this was another world. What local gods were there again... Which god was easier to talk to and would not strike him dead after being framed...

Time was short, the stakes were high—just which god should he find to take the blame?

Waiting online. Urgent...

The new Gret Nordmark rapidly sorted through the original owner's memories. Hartland City did have several temples: the Temple of the God of War, the Spring Goddess's temple, Nature God... Nature God seemed not to have a temple?

And what were these gods' domains?

Which god had the best temper?

What were their clergy like?

Damn it, why couldn't he remember any of this...

The only thing he could feel was a throbbing pain in his head.

Gret instinctively reached up and touched it. There was a swollen lump on the back of his head, damp as well, as if it had bled. His breathing suddenly tightened. Thump, thump, thump, thump—his heartbeat abruptly sped up.

Head trauma!

Amnesia!

Right, I can't remember what happened before I fainted either. Is this retrograde amnesia?

Did this body have a concussion?

Could there be intracranial bleeding? In one day, three days, or ten days to half a month, would I pass out again? Or get headaches, nausea, vomiting, hemiplegia, or something?

This damned place did not even have a CT scanner...

Calm down!!!

Gret forced himself to stop letting his thoughts run wild. Since I transmigrated, I can't possibly be that unlucky. Not remembering things must be because the memories haven't fused yet, not retrograde amnesia caused by a head injury!

What transmigrator gets taken down by the original owner's injuries? Even a bullet through the temple can heal on its own, let alone a mere bump on the head!

Gret tried hard to encourage himself. He shut his eyes tight and rapidly searched through the fragmented memories that had yet to fully merge. Racking his brains, he found only a few scraps—

There was no helping it. Worshipping gods was something only people with money and leisure could do. Poor people like the original owner only went to services two or three times a year.

Each time, he had stood amid the dense crowd outside the temple, stretching on tiptoe just to glimpse the priests' robes. As for whether he could see Divine Arts, that depended on luck...

Things like receiving treatment or learning to read and write from clergy—those were blessings the original owner had never experienced in his life.

Right, there had once been a towering, majestic Temple of Light in the center of Hartland City, its spire even higher than the lord's manor across from it. The entire temple now stood empty; all its clergy had been driven out three years ago...

He did not seem to remember seeing any other temples. Fine, this made things simple. Three choices.

First, eliminate the God of War.

Gret guiltily glanced to the side. He remembered now: Young Priest John belonged to the Temple of the God of War. The shield embroidered over his robe's chest was the simplest version of the Temple of the God of War's emblem, intended for low-ranking priests.

Lying in front of one of the god's subordinates gave Gret immense psychological pressure.

And honestly, the God of War sounded like a god of fighting and killing. His clergy were probably the sort who charged at you head-on at the slightest disagreement. Better not provoke them. If they found out he was making it up, would not an entire temple's worth of priests and warriors come out and chop him into pieces?

Then discard the Spring Goddess, who did not sound impressive at all and was clearly some weak god. With a name like that, she was definitely a low-tier deity, the kind who could never level up even in ten thousand years. There was no future in following her.

That left only Nature God!

Excellent. The domain sounded broad, and the ceiling was high. In many web novels Wu Zhou had read, Nature God seemed to be a major god ruling one side...

Gret's gaze hardened, and he answered without hesitation:

"Nature God!"

"Nature God..."

The fervor in Captain Karen's gaze dimmed slightly. Beside Wu Zhou, Brother Raymond, the archer Thorn, the Shield Warrior Wally, and even the freckled Young Priest John all let out disappointed sighs one after another.

Gret's heart skipped a beat. He knew that look all too well. In his previous life, whenever he had made a choice at some crossroads in life that was not ideal but already the best he could manage, he would always see such looks in the eyes of others. His mentor's, his mother's, his ex-girlfriend's...

"Not continuing with your doctorate? Well, your family really is struggling... Then so be it!"

"The emergency department?... Provincial No. 1 Hospital really is hard to get into. Emergency it is, then!"

"Going to Africa for aid work for a year? Just so you can become an associate chief physician sooner?... Fine, it's your choice!"

Apparently, Nature God was not a very good choice...

Could I still change my answer to the God of War?

Or the Spring Goddess?

But in that brief daze, he missed his chance to change his answer. After a moment of disappointment, Captain Karen immediately pressed his palms together before his chest and murmured a prayer. "Thanks be to Nature God for his grace..."

"Thanks be to Nature God for his grace!" The warriors around Gret prayed in unison, regardless of their individual faiths.

Even the freckled Young Priest lowered his head solemnly in respect toward Nature God.

Gret fell silent.

A promise once spoken could not be taken back.

Having said it was Nature God, he could not switch to someone else—or another god.

Digging a hole was satisfying for the moment, but filling it was a crematorium afterward. He had better figure out how to continue dealing with Nature God without giving himself away while still getting some benefits...

Just as he thought that, everyone finished praying and raised their heads, their eyes burning as they looked at him. Captain Karen's nephew, Brother Raymond, took the lead in asking:

"Little Grete, what do we do next? Keep moving forward?"

Gret abruptly came back to himself.

He quickly looked around. Captain Karen was too severely injured to do anything and had already closed his eyes to rest. Little Freckles followed the group as though it had nothing to do with him. The others—Captain Karen's nephew Brother Raymond, the archer Thorn, and the Shield Warrior Wally—all looked at Gret expectantly.

By the look of it, whether they advanced or stopped, retreated or returned, depended on a single word from him.

No way...

This Divine Revelation of mine, it—it's fake!