God of the Common People, or God of the Heavenly Emperor?

"Where... where is this?"

"This is my dream."

"Who are you? Where did you come from?"

Even Zhou Leigong, ever composed and imposing, renowned for so long, could not help but panic, his panic turning to alarm and confusion.

Yet the Daoist remained calm. Facing him, he said, "Didn't Lord Leigong know long ago? My surname is Song, given name You, the current heir of Fulong Temple. My master bestowed upon me the courtesy name Menglai."

"Menglai..."

Zhou Leigong met his gaze and could not help falling silent.

In that silence, he turned his head from side to side, surveying this world. Several times he seemed about to speak, only to stop himself. At last, he said, "Why is it that, all along the way, I have not seen a single person cast adrift and displaced?"

"Such people are already very few."

"So there still are some?"

"Of course there are. Very few—very, very few. So few that they have become hard to see." Song You stood by the roadside, answering Lord Leigong. "Nor will such people vanish entirely in the future."

"Why?"

"Because whether some people become displaced has nothing to do with whether they themselves possess the means to be well-fed and well-clothed, nor with whether society permits them to live that way." The Daoist smiled faintly. "Even if they could perfectly well live in abundance, they would still choose to drift from place to place. Would Lord Leigong believe that?"

"..."

Zhou Leigong did not answer. He merely looked around once more and asked again, "Why have I never seen anyone clothed in rags or starving with no food to eat?"

"Isn't that what the gods should hope for?"

"..."

Zhou Leigong fell silent again.

The two looked at each other.

"Where exactly is this? How can