PGVCW 10

 

Playing God in Various Catastrophic Worlds

By

siofra

Chapter 10: Opening the Heavenly Gates

According to any martial wanderer (xiáke) who possessed formal sect transmission and guidance from senior masters, it was an absolute universal law that no authentic wanderer’s vestments ever remained intact.

Of course, this wasn’t to imply that martial wanderers were impoverished—though they were indeed desperately poor.

The primary factor was that the typical wanderer spent the entirety of their existence either actively traveling or en route to a crisis zone. While conditions might be tolerable within major fortified cities, encountering a wanderer in some remote, desolate county guaranteed a silhouette draped in tattered, threadbare garments that instantly telegraphed a history of brutal attrition against mutated flora.

Yet this immutable physical law completely collapsed when confronted by the young maiden standing before them.

Not only were her robes entirely free of a single patch, but they were also immaculate, completely devoid of even a speck of travel grime.

The senior brother stood frozen in sheer stupefaction: “Could she have remained stationed entirely within this settlement without ever stepping foot out into the wilderness?”

Grandpa Ga, casually crunching on a piece of malt candy while leaning on his cane, perked up immediately upon hearing this remark: “You outsiders must be complete strangers here, to be entirely ignorant of my little sister’s thousand-mile journey of familial pilgrimage.” “She only arrived in our village a few days ago.”

A thousand miles… The senior brother—who had likewise traversed a thousand miles of hostile terrain—glanced down at his own pulverized, hole-ridden footwear, then back up at Xia Wang’an, whose celestial vestments remained completely devoid of a single patch.

“Then surely she changed attire along the route? A thousand-mile journey across the wasteland is fraught with peril; one can only imagine the countless hazards and life-or-death trials she must have endured…”

Grandpa Ga’s gaze grew increasingly skeptical: “Didn’t you claim to be martial wanderers? How can you be so utterly clueless about basic realities?” He stated with overwhelming pride: “When martial wanderers travel, they do so by flight! Have you never heard of a flying sword? You step right onto the blade and soar through the air. Since my little sister flew the entire distance here, naturally she encountered zero danger.”

The delegation of genuine wanderers: “……” Fly??? What kind of martial wanderer actually flies?!

“Indeed, are you lot a band of fraudsters?” Grandpa Ga’s vigilance spiked immediately. “How can you call yourselves wanderers when you don’t even know that practitioners travel via flying sword?”

Noticing that his supremely formidable great-auntie was standing right ahead, however, he remained largely at ease, waving a casual hand toward a sturdy local man who had just hauled back a fresh barrel of well water.

“Uncle, what’s the occasion? Does my great-auntie have an order for me?”

Grandpa Ga extended his palm: “Lend me some of that water.” The man generously planted the entire wooden barrel on the ground: “What’s with all this talk of borrowing over a mere barrel of water? This water was originally hauled for my auntie anyway, take whatever you need, elder.”

Since the Gao family’s great-auntie not only enjoyed collecting ubiquitous wheat and rice stalks but also maintained an insatiable appetite for fresh well and river water, the grateful citizens of Ming County—desperate to repay her for eradicating the crop menace—frequently ran marathons hauling water supplies directly to her doorstep.

Grandpa Ga cupped a handful of liquid into his palm: “Just a tiny splash is quite enough.”

The bewildered wanderers wondered why the old man suddenly required water. Was he suffering from sudden dehydration?

Before they could process the intent, the elderly gentleman abruptly flicked the palmful of water directly across their faces.

The senior brother, caught entirely off guard by a direct facial splash: “?” He wiped down his saturated features: “Respected elder, I appreciate the gesture, but I am not suffering from heatstroke; my face does not require washing.”

Grandpa Ga wore the self-satisfied expression of someone whose empirical hypothesis had just been validated: “And yet you still claim to be martial wanderers.” “The water actually soaked right through to your skin.”

The senior brother: “???” He found himself entirely incapable of bridging the cognitive chasm connecting “water drops landing on skin” to “therefore you are not martial wanderers.”

“Respected elder, what is the precise implication of your statement?”

Grandpa Ga confidently expounded upon his localized curriculum of Wanderer Lore 101: “True martial wanderers are completely impermeable to water! Take my little sister for instance—she never carries an umbrella even during torrential downpours because raindrops actively divert around her path.” “If you mortals can get drenched by a simple splash, doesn’t that conclusively prove you are impostors?”

Finishing off the remainder of his malt candy, Grandpa Ga ticked items off his fingers one by one: “Everyone knows wanderers travel via flying sword, which you lack; wanderers are impervious to water, which you clearly aren’t; and during cultivation sessions, wanderers radiate brilliant luminosity from their physical forms—can you lot manage even that?”

The genuine martial wanderers: “……”

The senior brother wiped his face once more, abandoning all hope of rational discourse with the elder, and instead pivoted with serene resignation toward the sturdy local man: “How long has this respected elder suffered from cognitive decline? Has he been evaluated by a local physician? I happen to possess knowledge of a rare botanical root compound highly efficacious for neurological stabilization—shall I forage the nearby slopes for your family?”

“Senior brother…” It was the junior disciple, standing in a state of absolute catatonia as he stared up at the young maiden cross-legged on the garden swing, completely lobotomized by visual sensory overload. “She… she is genuinely glowing right now…” “How is that physically possible? Human beings do not spontaneously emit photon radiation…”

Even as he protested, the senior brother glanced upward—and his voice died instantly in his throat.

“This… how can this be…” “Could this represent an entirely unprecedented tactical illusion technique??”

Xia Wang’an slowly unsealed her eyelids: [They’ve arrived.]

[007, have they locked visual acquisition onto my avatar?]

007 confirmed enthusiastically: [Affirmative, host! Their eyeballs are practically bulging out of their sockets!]

Xia Wang’an brightened instantly: [Splendid! Parameter objectives achieved!]

[Initiate return vector!]

—”Upon concluding your interaction with the native wanderers, execute immediate extraction without hesitation, denying them any opportunity to cross-examine your mechanics. While you are absent, their cognitive processing units will naturally bridge the analytical gaps and formulate their own decryption lore.”

The final advisory appended to the operational manual titled Protocol for Initial Interdimensional Infiltration explicitly mandated this exact rhythm.

—”Allowing them to witness your crossing of spatial dimensions firsthand constitutes the ultimate empirical proof of true immortal cultivation.”

Xia Wang’an rose to her feet, the silver filigree and embedded pearls adorning her ceremonial sword catching the solar rays and flashing in brilliant synchronization.

Without hesitation, she marched over, uprooted the massive Bone-Shattering Tree entirely from the topsoil, dragged the struggling trunk effortlessly in one hand, and advanced toward the designated staging ground piled high with harvested crops and volumetric water barrels.

“Eldest brother, I must return to my sect headquarters for the interim. I shall revisit this sector after a temporal interval.”

Having already briefed the Gao family regarding her cyclical departures—explicitly noting her intent to transport the accumulated grain stockpiles and water reserves back to her sect—the locals, though perpetually baffled as to why an immortal required mundane agricultural cargo, had tirelessly cooperated with her requisition logistics.

The precise reason she had selected this specific tree for lounging was its secondary utility value. The Bone-Shattering Tree—colloquially recognized in its pre-mutation classification as a standard jujube tree—possessed an aggressive combat trait: striking it once caused a deluge of crimson jujubes to rain down instantaneously, entirely bypassing biological maturation cycles, unfettered by seasonal blossoming laws, and immediately reinitiating fruit production the moment the prior harvest cleared.

Recalling that the logistics records archivist had expressed a persistent craving for fresh seasonal fruit, Xia Wang’an had prioritized integrating both the tree and the peach specimen into her dimensional cargo manifest.

Grandpa Ga smiled benevolently, nodding along: “Go right ahead, child! Remember to pack the parting gifts we prepared for your sect leadership, and rest assured we shall await your return.” He inquired with eager anticipation: “Will you be utilizing the flying sword for this departure?”

Xia Wang’an shook her head: “The flying sword possesses insufficient cargo volume for this scale of logistics. Today, I shall invoke the Heavenly Gates to depart.”

Before the cluster of authentic martial wanderers could recover from their recursive loop of cognitive rejection, they watched the delicate maiden casually drag a lethal Bone-Shattering Tree in a single hand, unbuckle her priceless ceremonial blade, and execute a measured forward slash.

A razor-sharp crescent of compressed sword-qi erupted outward, instantly subduing the thrashing, hyperactive tree into docile submission.

With an expression of absolute, transcendent solemnity, Xia Wang’an formulated her verbal incantation: “With the boundless mandate of heaven and earth, by the sovereign authority of Yin and Yang!” “Heavenly Gates—open!”

Under the spellbound, jaw-dropped gazes of the visiting wanderers, the young maiden, alongside the entirety of her accumulated logistical cargo, vanished completely into thin air.

The senior brother staggered backward several paces, nearly losing his footing as his gaze locked onto the empty void where she had stood.

“Capable of flight… radiating luminescent aura… and now spatial teleportation out of nothingness…” “Deities… she was never a martial wanderer… she is a true immortal…”

Back in Great Xia’s primary material plane—

The assembled monitoring personnel had maintained strict perimeter positions for hours, locked in a state of high-strung anxiety.

“Will Wang’an execute her return sequence without operational anomalies?” “Statistically, the temporal window aligns with her projected deployment limit, yet zero telemetry has registered.” “Are the nutritional supplies staged properly? The child has undoubtedly endured severe deprivation in those barren dimensions.” “Fully secured. We managed to excavate the final remaining reserves of uncorrupted wheat flour from deep-storage vaults—sufficient to sustain Wang’an for a fortnight.”

Given Great Xia’s prolonged struggles with systemic agricultural famine, mobilizing even this modest allocation of uncontaminated flour represented a monumental logistical feat.

Even as the team engaged in mutual psychological reinforcement, a concussive BOOM reverberated across the terrain.

The previously vacant expanse of reinforced concrete suddenly birthed an astronomical volume of massive agricultural yields—wheat, rice, root vegetables, and exotic fruits bursting forth to saturate the entire operational yard within a single second.

The assembled specialists: “……” Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!! So much grain!!!!

Just as the team stood paralyzed by the collective hallucination that they were sharing a synchronized utopian dream, a familiar silhouette breached the apex of the grain pile.

Xia Wang’an was submerged waist-deep in golden wheat, with a remarkably sturdy, perfectly ripened wheat stalk balanced jauntily atop her head.

Maintaining an absolute deadpan expression, she spat out a stray leaf of Chinese napa cabbage that had somehow drifted into her oral cavity, extended an arm outward, and tossed a colossal, sugar-kissed peach directly toward the lead archivist standing nearest the perimeter:

“I have returned.” “Catch—fruit provisions.”