Rick and Morty: My Grandfather is Rick?

Will it be recorded in the annals of the Galactic Empire?

Do not!

I deserve my own biography!

Well, before discovering the Gold Bar Cult (the Cult of Golden Crispy Noodles), that's what he thought...

After the discovery...

Faced with a ship full of Gold Bar Cult members, the commander and his men were forced to join this cult whose name was offensive and whose statues were even more offensive.

"The great master of golden crispy spaghetti!"

"The indescribable Morty!"

"Our guiding light! Our leader! The only god we worship in this life!"

"The Gold Bar Cult is still as fragile as a young seedling!"

Please help us!

"To help our cause reach new heights!"

Chapter 136 My First Time as a God

How could someone be calling my name inside my head...?

[Emmm...it's only been a few days, and I've already forgotten about the group of followers I recruited before...]

[Damn! So many things are waiting for me to handle?]

[That request for a son is outrageous! You fly people clearly aren't born from the womb, and you're trying to fool me???]

When Morty's world switched to a black-and-white line world, as if he had logged into a social media app, he immediately heard the 'prayer' of at least tens of thousands of people.

But the content is almost...

As a lively and energetic deity, we believe in you...

Are you just planning to become a hands-off boss?

Will it be after we've gone through countless hardships and overcome all sorts of difficulties that we finally manage to plant the flag of the Cult of Thin Noodles (the Cult of Golden Crispy Thin Noodles) in the streets and alleys of the Galactic Empire's capital?

You suddenly came back to life and ran out to reap the rewards?

no way!

Get out there and get to work!

The growth of an organization cannot rely solely on the efforts of its cells!

The gods themselves need to step up their game!

Faced with this overwhelming wave of 'religious opinions', Morty immediately turned off the 'line'. He felt that if he listened any longer, he would go insane on the spot.

But Grandpa was unhappy about this hurdle.

"You suddenly spaced out for a moment, then turned the lines off. What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to help you fix the problem of your teammates getting screwed over, can't you just cooperate a little?"

Morty: "When I logged on, I had tens of thousands of followers, each with three or four wishes that I could help with. This is my first time being a god, so I'm a little nervous."

Grandpa: "You...you're just an ordinary person who can't even beat a troop transport ship head-on, and after a few words of praise, you really think you're a god?"

Morty: "..."

Grandpa's casual remark made Morty blush. As a responsible young man of the new era, he had, by chance, founded a sect.

There are also tens of thousands of underlings below.

Since this deity has already raised its profile...

There's no reason for me not to do something, is there?

"Alright, switch your focus back, then select a pope, give him a blessing and a uniquely designated communication statue, and cut off all communication except between you and that statue."

"Then let's get down to business."

Grandpa resolved the matter of "Everyone Talking to the Gods" in just a few words.

As Morty did as instructed, he was also surprised that his grandfather seemed a little too skilled in this area.

Why didn't you ask me for any details before making the 'Rick' decision?

Do you realize that this makes you seem overly professional?

Grandpa, who was fiddling with the machine and having the great devil Stein hold Tzeentch in place, seemed to have eyes in the back of his head and pointed at Stein, adding a comment.

"I don't understand these things, I only know about them from this guy. If you want to start a secret cult for fun, then talk to him for a bit. Now let's patch up the holes."

Facing her grandfather, who was determined to shut down the hole in her mind.

Morty said no more.

He randomly appointed an unlucky man as his pope, then gave him a blessing that was completely useless and was just a lighting effect, and then casually designated a wooden carving as his only means of communication.

So he put his grandfather's device on his head.

"I've spent the last two days dreaming, it's absolutely infuriating..."

Muttering something, Morty followed his grandfather's instructions and used Line World to look at Tzeentch. After looking at him, he found that Tzeentch was much more pleasing to the eye, but he didn't see anything particularly special about him.

After all, this guy isn't the real Tzeentch.

Rather, it is a product of one's subconscious.

It falls far short of the terrifying level of Warhammer 40K.

"Since there's nothing about him that connects you to anything, hurry up and enter the dream!"

Morty, turning his gaze away, pressed a button on his helmet with his right hand. The world before him began to darken, and after everything went black, light returned.

He found himself back in front of his familiar house.

Return to a world where you can do whatever you want.

The restless Morty casually reached out and changed all the materials of his house to gleaming gold, and then switched them all back to silver.

Before Grandpa came in, Morty had already transformed his dream from an ordinary neighborhood in Colorado into Manhattan, New York.

"Jesus! You can't stand being idle! Quickly, quickly! Clear everything out of here!"

Grandpa, who was in the dream, saw someone wasting time and felt disgusted and disgusted.

Upon hearing this, Morty immediately waved his hand, removing everything except the ground. The skyscrapers vanished at the speed of light, making the world before his eyes increasingly 'clean'.

Until one could see the horizon and there wasn't even a single weed.

As soon as he turned around, Morty's eyes narrowed and his lips twitched violently at the sight of the large, gleaming silver syringe in his grandfather's hand.

"What's going on? Why are you suddenly pulling out a syringe?"

Feeling uneasy, Morty cautiously took a few steps back. Although it was his dream and he could block out the pain, he just couldn't accept it emotionally!

You're Rick, after all!

No matter what the problem is, I solve it with oral liquid. It's the king of oral liquids!

When did you have to resort to using syringes?

But to Morty's surprise, the syringe wasn't meant to prick himself, but rather to prick the ground, or perhaps it was part of the dream?

I saw Grandpa stick the needle into the ground and actually draw out a tube of light blue liquid.

Morty had no idea where to even begin complaining...

In someone else's dream, they extract a vial of liquid from the 'ground'. Is this liquid part of the dream, or something inside their own brain...?

The thought sent a chill down Morty's spine, and he quickly banished the terrible idea from his mind.

Otherwise, if he keeps thinking like this, his brain might just kill itself on the spot.

"Alright, with this, I can start the analysis. You can do whatever you want now, I'll call you back later."

"But before you leave, switch this app back to the community section. My tools are still stored in there."

"Okay," Morty replied.

When everything around you changes back to your own community.

The familiar dream-like Rick and Jerry pounced on Morty from behind, before Grandpa could issue a warning and prepare to attack.

A hat, clearly modified for entering the dream world, was placed on Morty's head, its mechanical parts completely locking off any possibility of opening it from the outside.

"What the hell... fuck!"

Morty's vision went black, and he entered... Jerry's dream.

Looking at Jerry lying on the ground, Grandpa coldly stared at Dream Rick. He had long suspected that since it was Tzeentch who had left, not Dream Rick, then that brat must still be inside Morty's head.

He just didn't expect that this guy, who was modeled after him and enhanced by Morty, could be so crazy.

Daring to jump out at this time!

"If you had spoken to me properly, I might have spared your life. But now you've already... You're insane! You want to tear his brain apart?!"

Chapter 137 Successfully Ambushed

"Tear? No, no, no! I just used a tiny little trick?"

"Rick Sanchez, you haven't really forgotten that dreams are just something between illusion and reality, and that we all just exist in the nerve cells of Morty's brain?"

When Grandpa watched as Rick in the dream cut through the air with a small knife glowing red, the ground beneath his feet immediately caved in.

He tried to jump out of the collapsing ground, but an invisible wall trapped him.

Aside from shouting some nonsensical words, he could do nothing else to get himself out of trouble.

"Motty! My child! You must hold on! I'll come back to save you!"

As soon as the sound fell, Grandpa and the neatly cut piece of ground fell down together, but it was different from the dream and the imagination.

Neurons that have been cut apart, or rather, nerve cells that have broken themselves, are like a tin bucket thrown into the ocean.