Divine Perks and a Demon Lord’s Streaming Debut

Yes.

The reward for saving the world was bestowed by the Goddess in the form of live stream gifts.

Though a portion would be claimed by the platform, the net sum remained undiminished, a fact that rendered her indifferent to the deductions.

At the very least, Li Longkang’s income now possessed a veneer of legitimacy.

Moreover, the benefits extended beyond merely legitimizing the Goddess’s remuneration; these gifts were instrumental in cultivating Li Yue’s initial popularity and fanbase, gradually attracting donations from viewers other than the Goddess herself.

Until now, the Goddess had only ever sent gifts and donations; this private message marked a novel departure.

Naturally, Li Yue seized this opportunity for direct communication.

Forsaking her game and abandoning the live stream, she promptly tossed the controller to Mo Linyu, then retreated to engage in a private chat with the Goddess on her phone.

Mo Linyu settled before the computer, becoming a proxy streamer for the proxy, while Li Yue reclined on the sofa, typing out her messages to the Goddess.

Li Yue: [Are we truly limited to sensing the souls’ whereabouts solely through her wounds?]

A considerable pause ensued after Li Yue sent her message before the Goddess finally replied.

Goddess: [You should be grateful there’s even a method.]

Goddess: [As I mentioned before, if there truly were a simple, swift way, why wouldn’t I seek it myself?]

While the logic held, the inherent difficulty remained overwhelmingly high.

Just as Li Yue was about to implore the Goddess to devise an alternative, the other party sent a message first.

Goddess: [Fret not, my Hero. I shall procure some suitable ‘Traverse Perks’ and dispatch them to you presently.]

‘Traverse Perks,’ as the name implied, were blessings or divine artifacts bestowed upon individuals when they crossed into another world.

These typically served as crucial aids for transmigrators to survive in unfamiliar realms; most would opt for cheats that enhanced combat abilities, though recently, production-oriented skills seemed to be gaining popularity.

Hero Moon’s Holy Sword also fell into this category.

Yet…

Li Yue and Mo Linyu clearly had no need for combat prowess at this juncture; who, after all, were they meant to fight?

Li Yue: [Perks? Can these perks assist me in finding someone?]

Goddess: [Oh dear, they can’t directly help you find people, but they can certainly boost your efficiency in searching! Or perhaps help you escape smoothly if you encounter villains?]

Li Yue: [So, what’s the cost?]

Goddess: [Hmm? What cost?]

Li Yue: [What must I sacrifice this time?]

Li Yue’s wariness was not unfounded; even the Hero’s standard-issue Holy Sword had demanded a ‘cow’ as payment (TL Note: A playful euphemism for a significant sacrifice, hinting at something valuable or even personal.), and she harbored no illusions that this mischievous Goddess would offer assistance without a price.

Goddess: [Alas, it seems you harbor a slight misunderstanding about me.]

Li Yue couldn’t fathom it; why was the Goddess suddenly sounding so heartbroken?

Goddess: [This time, I am genuinely and sincerely offering my help, so naturally, no price is required.]

Goddess: [However, you understand.]

Goddess: [All the truly useful perks have been claimed by other transmigrators. The remaining ones aren’t particularly popular, but just because a perk isn’t ideal for a Hero doesn’t mean it won’t be effective on Earth… it might just prove helpful to you.]

Li Yue: [Whatever you can give, as long as it helps, I’ll take it.]

She wasn’t particular, or rather, her expectations weren’t soaring.

Goddess: [However, you must remember.]

Goddess: [Earth is unique, so the perks must be used discreetly.]

Goddess: [I will periodically retrieve the perks I lend you and replace them with new ones, as I must avoid detection from ‘Above’.]

‘Above’?

She had uttered similar words when she descended upon Han Xiaoyu, leading Li Yue to wonder…

Did the Goddess truly have superiors?

Even if she did, Li Yue knew she would never come into contact with them.

Li Yue: [Understood. I just hope they prove useful.]

She reclined on the sofa, her fingers tapping out messages on her phone.

Li Yue: [So, what perk do you intend to send me?]

Goddess: [I don’t know yet.]

Goddess: [I need to check the warehouse first to see which perks have ample stock, so taking one won’t be noticed.]

Judging by her words, the Goddess was essentially stealing, wasn’t she?! Embezzling from her own stores? Risking capture just to help her?

This hardly aligned with her previous persona, nor had Li Yue imagined she cared so deeply about the Demon Lord’s fate.

Li Yue: [Alright, then.]

Goddess: [In any case, I’ll watch your streams when I have time. Just go live if you want to contact me.]

Goddess: [Going to find your things now. Logging off.]

Thereafter, no matter how many messages Li Yue sent, she could no longer reach the Goddess.

“Why does she always monologue like this?”

Not only that, but the previously received chat logs were vanishing line by line, clearly indicating some supernatural force was erasing the Goddess’s traces.

“She truly leaves no trace at all.”

At the very least, it confirmed Mo Linyu’s conjecture was correct. As for those ‘perks’…

It was probably best not to harbor too much expectation.

****

Having concluded her communication, Li Yue sat upright once more, turning her gaze towards the corner of the living room.

Mo Linyu was intensely focused on the computer screen.

Li Yue had initially presumed she could manage to stream for a few minutes, only to find the screen emblazoned with the stark “YOU DIED” in red letters against a black background.

Mo Linyu herself wore a furrowed brow, a clear expression of competitive determination, as she gripped the controller tightly, maneuvering Li Yue’s character, who charged with a greatsword towards a lone minion.

Then, in a flurry of clumsy movements, she was slain by that very minion.

The screen plunged into black once more, making the scrolling comments in the live stream chat even more distinct.

[What’s wrong with Brother Long? Why is he so terrible today?]

[Something’s off, right? This gameplay clearly isn’t Long Ya.]

[I believe it now! This really is Brother Long’s younger sister playing!]

[Sister, don’t play this one. Switch to an easier game.]

Just moments ago, Li Longkang had claimed it was his sister, only for the entire live stream audience to doubt her identity, even suspecting it was a voice changer.

Yet, after merely a few minutes of Mo Linyu’s proxy streaming, she was mistaken for the “sister” precisely because of her abysmal skill?

What a bizarre turn of events!

Li Yue watched Mo Linyu’s clumsy gaming technique, unable to suppress a wry smile.

The once haughty Demon Lord was utterly pathetic in the game, a clear indication that she rarely, if ever, played video games.

Li Yue approached her, extending a hand, signaling her desire to take over.

However, Mo Linyu shook her head, her dark purple hair swaying with the motion, a flicker of stubbornness in her eyes.

She presented the resolute image of one unwilling to yield, determined to battle that minion three hundred rounds if necessary.

“Just let me try one more time,” Mo Linyu murmured, a hint of the Demon Lord’s inherent authority in her voice.

“I *will* defeat this insolent minion.”

But swiftly, the red letters “YOU DIED” illuminated the screen once again.

Mo Linyu was left dazed by the defeat; such an abrupt end felt almost too quick.

The Demon Lord’s dignity lay utterly shattered!

Nevertheless, upon spotting the comments scrolling on the other screen, she deliberately pitched her voice higher.

“My cousin had something important today so he asked me to stream for him, but… sigh, this game is truly too difficult.”

The Demon Lord revealed an entirely new facet of her personality, causing Li Yue’s eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

‘Heh, she’s actually acting now?’

Moreover, her deliberately softened voice bore a striking resemblance to Li Yue’s own, enough to mislead the live stream audience completely.

[It’s okay, Little Long Sis! Take your time, get familiar with the controls.]

[Do you want to switch to an easier game?]

[I remember Brother Long used to stream Cuphead; it’s a very cartoon-style game.]

[The comment above is a devil, isn’t it?]

Glancing at the dense stream of comments from the corner of her eye, Mo Linyu declared,

“No, I won’t switch. I can’t possibly fail to defeat even a mere minion, can I?”

“I’ve already spent ten minutes mastering this game.”

Despite her utterly dismal gaming skills, Mo Linyu’s enthusiasm for interacting with the chat surpassed even Li Longkang’s when he streamed himself.

Though it was technically her own live stream, Mo Linyu effortlessly commanded its pace…

Was it because she was a queen that she was so adept at winning people over?

Perhaps, she would make an excellent streamer.