The whole nation: You're put to survive on a desolate planet, you'll be running an alien b

The prophet felt as if an invisible hand had plunged his brain into a pot of boiling oil.

The surrounding noise, the students' chatter, the cafeteria lady's shouts, and the greasy smell of food pierced his senses like countless needles.

He, codenamed "Prophet," is an A-level mental awakener of the Purgatory Organization, the sharpest blade under the bishop.

He was used to strategizing in the constant temperature and humidity of the underground base, and used to crushing his enemies with his mental power amidst the clash of swords.

He never imagined that he would be standing here one day.

A university cafeteria.

His tracksuit, handcrafted by a top Italian tailor, seemed to protest against the air quality all around him.

The pair of globally limited edition sneakers on his feet made a teeth-grinding sound as he stepped on the sticky floor.

The gazes from those around them were a mixture of curiosity, amazement, and undisguised discussion.

"Wow, isn't that handsome guy wearing a Nike x luxury brand collaboration?"

"Look at his watch, a Patek Philippe, wow!"

"Are you here to experience cafeteria life? Or to pick up female students?"

The prophet ignored the noise of these ants.

His gaze, like that of a hawk, locked onto the figure in the far corner of the cafeteria.

Then, cracks began to appear in his worldview.

The man was wearing a faded crew neck shirt and jeans with ripped knees.

His hair was a mess, as if he had just gotten out of bed.

He was drinking a bowl of clear soup with his head down, in an almost pious posture.

On the plate, there were only a few wilted bean sprouts.

This is... the forbidden existence that even the bishop fears so much, capable of leveling a building with a wave of the hand?

The prophet's mind went blank.

He strode through the crowded streets, each step heavy with effort.

He stopped in front of the table, looking down at the "college student" in front of him.

The other person finally finished the last sip of soup and looked up.

He asked indistinctly, still chewing something in his mouth.

"Hey bro, wanna share a table?"

Those eyes were clear, even a little foolish.

There was still a grain of rice stuck to the corner of his mouth.

The prophet did not answer.

Li Haotian finished the last sip of soup and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

He pointed to the empty seat opposite him.

"Sit down, what are you standing there for?"

"Didn't you come here to discuss business?"

The prophet took a deep breath, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

He decided to verify it himself.

An invisible spiritual force, like a rising tide, silently pressed down on the seemingly frail young man opposite them.

This is his talent as an A-level mental awakener.

[Mental pressure].

Under such pressure, ordinary people would suffer from severe headaches at best, and mental breakdowns at worst, leading them to kneel and beg for mercy.

Even D-level and C-level Awakened Ones would instantly turn pale and have difficulty breathing.

He stared intently into Li Haotian's eyes.

The mental field has completely enveloped the opponent.

however.

one second.

three seconds.

ten seconds.

Li Haotian did not react.

He even let out a burp, and a smell of bean sprouts wafted over.

The prophet's pupils suddenly contracted.

How is that possible?

Was the bishop's judgment correct? Was the opponent's rank so high that they could completely disregard his mental pressure?

Just as the prophet was deeply shaken.

Li Haotian stretched out his chopsticks, picked up a piece of food from a small dish in the middle of the table, and handed it over enthusiastically.

"Pickled vegetables, free of charge, no money required."

"Hey bro, wanna have some?"

The prophet looked at the few yellowish-brown pickled vegetables that had been picked over by countless chopsticks, and his stomach churned.

For the first time, he began to doubt the abilities he had always believed in.

Either the other party is a god.

Either the other person is a complete idiot, someone whose mental energy is imperceptible...

"You...can't you feel anything?"

The prophet spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse.

"What do you feel?" Li Haotian asked blankly, putting the pickled vegetables into his mouth and chewing them crunchily.

"For example, a headache? Or, feeling a little short of breath?"

Li Haotian blinked, then suddenly realized.

"Oh, you mean this?"

He pointed to the crowded people in the cafeteria.

"There are too many people, it's a bit stuffy."

"Brother, if you're feeling unwell, we can go outside to talk; it's cooler there."

prophet:"……"

He slowly withdrew his mental energy.

In my heart, the string called "vigilance" snapped completely.

The person in front of me is not a taboo at all.

He was just an ordinary person who got lucky and somehow gained control of a "god"!

A puppet!

What an idiot!

Your Excellency, you've been fooled by your own imagination!

Having figured this out, the huge weight in the prophet's heart instantly lifted.

He leaned back in his chair, his posture regaining its elegance and composure.

The seriousness in his eyes turned into a faint contempt.

Li Haotian seemed completely oblivious to the change in the other party's attitude.

His gaze was suddenly drawn to something on the prophet's wrist.

"Holy crap!"

He let out a gasp of astonishment, as if he had never seen anything like it before, leaned forward, and stared intently at the watch with wide, round eyes.

"Brother, is your watch... made of gold?"

"It must cost several thousand dollars, right?"

The prophet curled the corners of his mouth in amusement.

He raised his wrist, letting the Patek Philippe, worth millions, reflect a mesmerizing glow under the light.

"several thousand?"

"This watch could buy this entire cafeteria."

Li Haotian gasped, rubbed his hands together, and a snobbish and obsequious smile appeared on his face.

"Brother, you're really... awesome."

"So... what kind of big business deal does that bishop want to discuss with me?"

His voice was low, tinged with nervousness and anticipation.

"Can...can I earn a few thousand dollars?"

Upon hearing this question, the prophet almost burst out laughing.

Several thousand dollars?

In the butcher's vault, a single box of US dollars would be enough for this fool to squander for several lifetimes.

"It's not just a few thousand dollars."

The prophet spoke slowly and deliberately, enjoying the feeling of being in control.

"As long as you obey, the money you spend in the future will be measured in tons."

"ton?"

Li Haotian's eyes lit up instantly, and his breathing became heavy.

He rubbed his hands together, so excited he was almost incoherent.

"Really? Brother, I'm not very educated, you're not lying to me!"

"This immense wealth... has it finally come to me?"

Seeing his greedy and greedy appearance, the prophet's last doubts vanished.

He is now 100% certain.

What I'm facing is a lucky idiot who got hit by a pie falling from the sky.

And this kind of idiot is the easiest to control.

"Of course it's true."

The prophet took a black card out of his pocket, gently placed it on the table, and pushed it over.

"This is your deposit."

"There's a million inside."

Li Haotian's hands started trembling as he looked at the card.

He carefully reached out his hand, as if afraid of damaging the card, and pinched one corner of the card with two fingers.

"One...one million?"

He swallowed hard, staring intently at the card, muttering to himself.

"This...this is great...we can finally pay off our debts..."

The prophet caught the word.

debt?

Turns out he was a penniless wretch in debt.

That makes things much easier.

"This amount of money is just the beginning."

The prophet stood up and resumed his superior posture.

"Your Excellency, the business I wish to discuss with you concerns 'divinity'."

"You don't need to understand what that is, you just need to know how to cooperate with us."

He lowered his head, leaned close to Li Haotian's ear, and spoke in a cold, unquestionable tone.

"Remember, you are just a lucky puppet."

"The string is in my hands, you'd better dance obediently."

After saying that, he straightened up, straightened his clothes which were without a single wrinkle, and turned to leave.

He couldn't even be bothered to look at this fool whose eyes were filled with nothing but money symbols.

The task was much simpler than I had imagined.

Your Excellency is overthinking things.

Li Haotian remained seated, clutching the black card tightly in his hand, grinning foolishly like a madman.

Until the prophet's figure disappeared at the entrance of the canteen.

The silly grin on his face slowly faded.

He lowered his head, looking at the black card in his hand, and gently stroking it with his fingertips.

Then, he picked up his plate and stood up.

There was still a bowl of unfinished free soup left on the plate.

He picked up the bowl and drank it all in one gulp.

Finally, he slowly walked towards the tableware recycling area.

As he passed the trash can, he flicked his wrist.

He casually tossed the black card containing one million into a trash can full of leftover food.

It's like throwing away a piece of waste paper that's been used to wipe your mouth.