In the Land of Disorder.
Inside a tavern, a middle-aged man, appearing to be in his forties or fifties, raised a crystal wine glass. Scars crisscrossed his face, yet one could still faintly discern the handsome features he once possessed.
He was swaying drunkenly, pulling at a few people nearby. “I’m telling you, back in the day, I could take on dozens of High Gods by myself. If I wanted someone dead, barely anyone could, *hic*—could escape.”
The people nearby burst into laughter. “Then why are you drowning your sorrows in this little bar now?”
“I, I like it. *Hic*—*glug, glug*—” He burped again, then gulped down the bubbling liquid from his crystal glass.
“Hahaha—” Another wave of laughter erupted. “By the way, our once super-powerful Archgod, I recall you still owe this bar quite a sum, don’t you?”
The middle-aged man irritably ran a hand through his hair. “It’s all because of that bastard! It wasn’t even my doing, yet they made me pay. Damn your grandma to hell!”
“Oh, right, I also heard you were peeking at a young girl bathing?” another grey-haired youth said with a laugh.
The middle-aged man’s old face flushed crimson. “What nonsense are you spouting? That was an accident, not intentional! Besides, what’s there to see on a little brat who hasn’t even grown all their hair yet? Scram, scram, scram!”
“Oh, really now~ What if that’s exactly your type?” yet another youth remarked with a snide tone.
Just as the middle-aged man was about to explain himself, the bar door was kicked open. A tall, golden-haired man, dressed in a white suit embroidered with gold thread, stood framed in the doorway.
He surveyed the surroundings, a frown creasing his brow, before slowly speaking. “Is this Deathcry?”
A waiter stepped forward and bowed. “My apologies, but our establishment does not accept commissions from any gods.”
The golden-haired man frowned again, then produced a small black badge. It bore the image of a feather broken in two. “Surely, you can’t refuse this.”
The waiter took it, examined it carefully, and let out what sounded like a sigh. “May I ask, what is your commission?”
The surrounding patrons grew restless. Some of the more boisterous ones directly yelled, “Hey, hey, you blonde over there! Your kind isn’t welcome here! Hurry up, scram, scram, scram!”
A chorus of jeers and laughter followed.
The waiter made a calming gesture. “There’s no helping it. This is an agreement; we must fulfill a commission for them. So, which brave soul is willing to accept this task? I promise, the remuneration will be substantial.”
The grey-haired youth beside the middle-aged man nudged him. “There’s a commission over there, and the reward seems decent. Aren’t you short on money? Will you take it?”
The middle-aged man, who had been continuously gulping down the bubbling alcohol, lifted his head. His eyes, clouded with drink, gazed in the direction the grey-haired youth pointed.
In an instant, his face darkened. A murderous aura erupted. A violent presence surged forth, locking onto the golden-haired man with fierce intensity.
Sensing something amiss, the nearby grey-haired youth quickly grabbed the middle-aged man. “Hey, I’m telling you, no matter how much you hate gods, don’t stir up trouble now! You know what happens if you cause a scene in this bar.”
The middle-aged man reined in his violent aura. His expression still grim, he set down his half-finished drink and rose to leave.
The grey-haired youth was utterly bewildered. This fellow, Keton, was always so inexplicable. Sometimes he was incredibly lenient towards gods, other times he reacted like this.
‘Hmph, he won’t take it?’
“No big deal, we can just accept it ourselves.” Ignoring the departing middle-aged man, he gestured to the others nearby.
“Hey, Keton won’t take it, so let’s take it,” the grey-haired youth said to his companions.
“That might not be a good idea. Keton, after all…” A woman in her twenties began to say, but her words were cut short.
“You know his temperament. At worst, we just won’t tell him. You also know his financial situation isn’t great. We can just tell him after we complete it; I’m sure he’ll understand us,” the grey-haired youth continued.
Another sturdy, bald man chimed in, “That’s settled then. Let’s take this job.”
So the grey-haired youth stood up. “We’ll take it. What’s the mission content?”
No sooner had he spoken than a golden light projected onto his forehead.
[Mission Content: Assassinate the envoy sent by the Divine Realm, Moe God Ye Menghan.]