Little Pink Starfish

Are gods truly untouchable, forever beyond mortal reach?

Pei Sen didn’t think so.

The world of the Gate of Eternity was strange. All gods had once been human, and the number of transcendents here was immense. From his own experience now, Pei Sen understood—if enough top-tier transcendents joined forces, they could absolutely pose a threat to the gods.

It was true that since becoming a god, he was far stronger than the average legendary mage—he had clearly stepped into another realm. With the power of faith, his strength could grow terrifying.

But as Eagle had pointed out, faith power wasn’t truly their own. At least, not yet.

If this were a world like Earth, with no transcendents at all, then gods would indeed be overwhelmingly powerful. But in this world, transcendents were everywhere—countless, even.

“If something’s happened to the Four Major Gods, those emperors might not be in the dark,” Eagle suddenly said.

Pei Sen thought of the mist that obscured divine perception. “As the Four’s most important chosen ones, they should know at least part of the truth.” Normally, they’d communicate with the gods pretty regularly.

But who knew when the Four had actually fallen into trouble? It was unlikely Emperor Gubis and Emperor Tianyin truly had no clue.

“That’s why I’m curious what kind of reaction those two will have when they find out the gods are planning to hold a banquet right on their border.”

Pei Sen smiled. “Well, that depends on whether the Bix players can actually get the message to them.”

Truthfully, he had already made up his mind: if all the players failed, he would go and deliver the message himself.

Pei Sen had no pride or arrogance about being a god. Personally delivering a message didn’t feel beneath him in the slightest.

But he still believed in the players’ capabilities. And sure enough—

Once they took things seriously, this group of players worked harder in-game than in real life. With so many minds working together, their creativity was astounding.

The high-level players who had gone undercover in various factions were all contacted. They began networking, helping those who had accepted the quest. And since this particular mission allowed for large-scale collaboration, many more joined in. The original group of players who triggered the quest were the only ones who could deliver the final message, but the others could still accept assistance tasks and help along the way.

“Miss Yang’s father has the right to meet the emperor,” BraisedSpicySnack said. “And her wedding is in a few days. Lots of bigwigs will be there. It’s our chance.”

“Will the emperor show up himself?”

“Low chance,” BraisedSpicySnack admitted honestly.

“But maybe there’ll be some kind of commendation ceremony!” Mí le Lù said optimistically. “That’s how it always goes in dramas. Besides, Yang Tingbai’s aunt is a high-ranking consort in the palace.”

“That’s possible. Still, bringing the quest-holding players in front of the emperor—without them dying—isn’t easy,” Claude said. “This mission is tough.”

“There’s always a way. At least we can check whether the emperor’s leaving the palace anytime soon,” Nai Nai said with a smile.

It wasn’t just them. All the undercover high-level players were mobilized. With thirty days on the clock, there was room to maneuver.

Normally, players in games acted solo. Even in social-heavy games, it rarely went beyond a few friends, a party, a guild—small-scale coordination at best.

But Pei Sen’s quest had mobilized nearly the entire Eternal Continent. Not just the high-level players—everyone in both the Anser Empire and Summer Dynasty had received assist options. The forums exploded with chatter. In-game, players started friending each other, joining forces for a grand plan.

Bix Magic Cube said, “You’re really impressive.”
The tone was filled with genuine admiration.

Pei Sen blinked. “What?”

Bix Magic Cube said, “Integration rate is skyrocketing. The players have banded together. It looks like they might actually pull something big off—and they’ve drawn the attention of many natives.”

In other words, the players had become significant. They could now influence major events. That chain reaction was pushing integration higher.

On the original timeline, many players had remained on the fringes. Sure, lots of people loved story-driven games and immersive experiences. Bix Magic Cube already excelled in realism and immersion—far better than most others.

But plenty of players just wanted to grind and level up. They didn’t care about plot or NPCs. What they valued was personal strength and smooth gameplay. These players were self-aware—they knew it was a game, so they focused on their own experience and comfort. And there were many like them, especially after the rise of PC and mobile gaming, where skipping story cutscenes was the norm.

Bix Magic Cube had no real way to reach these players—until now.

Thanks to this quest, Pei Sen had managed to rope in even those who only cared about leveling. With such juicy rewards, even they were interested.

From the Yali Continent onward, Pei Sen had been working toward something big. He had chosen the right path. And the Qinghun era was a uniquely special server—its “notorious” style had actually made its player base famous. That kind of “fame”—

“Is the integration level enough now?” Pei Sen asked, cutting to the point.

Bix Magic Cube said, “Not quite yet. But now that you’ve stirred up the Four Major Gods event, the progress should accelerate. Things look very promising.”

The Four Major Gods… Pei Sen suddenly realized—even in this world, gods couldn’t compare to Bix Magic Cube. They were called gods, but if you asked them to do what Bix was doing now, Pei Sen doubted they could manage.

“Are they even gods? More like pseudo-gods—or maybe just another tier of transcendent,” Pei Sen mused.

Faith power was certainly powerful, and it could be used for many things. But once gods left their Divine Realms, their power diminished. Faith power had to be channeled through the Gate of Eternity and the realm beyond.

For example, Pei Sen and Eagle could still carry a significant amount of faith power outside their realm—but without access to it, the supply wouldn’t increase. It would slowly dwindle—absorbed by them or lost over time.

These gods were still far from being “omnipotent.”

They could bless their followers, sure—but at its core, that was just giving back the faith they had collected from them.

Even the God of Light on the Yali Continent didn’t seem to have such strict limitations. His essence was probably strong in and of itself.

“Sigh. I’ve only been a god for a few days, and I’ve already seen through the illusion of godhood. It’s kind of boring.” Pei Sen looked at Eagle. “Young master, once the Four Major Gods incident is over, let’s go back to the Yali Continent.”

Eagle blinked, his emerald eyes radiant. “Really?”

“Really.”

Pei Sen understood. Everyone has a special attachment to their homeland. Even if he had become a god here, and even if he wielded supernatural power across multiple worlds—he still wanted to go home. Back to reality. Even as an ordinary man.

This year and some months… aside from the person beside him, everything else had felt so unreal.

He wanted to go home. And he was sure Eagle did too.

After all… being a god in this world wasn’t much fun anyway.

Before the banquet even began, they had left their Divine Realm ahead of the others. The Goddess of Harvest and the Martial Ancestor had chosen well—the location was scenic. They had spent faith power to construct a grand hall for the banquet, and whether it was the pavilions or the nearby buildings, there was a light, pastoral charm to it all. It was all surprisingly tasteful.

“Even for a banquet, they had to build an entire mansion. That’s extravagant,” Pei Sen said with a smile.

Eagle looked around. “It’s more than one mansion. Still, their aesthetic is kind of bland.”

Pei Sen: “…” Says the guy whose Divine Realm looks like a glittering palace.

They were shown to their own complex of buildings. Apparently, each god had their own zone.

Pei Sen was surprised to find that their quarters were lavish—gilded and opulent, with a style quite similar to Eagle’s own Divine Realm.

“Looks like they really put thought into it,” Eagle commented.

Pei Sen glanced at him. “Probably all the gods’ areas are modeled after their Divine Realms.”

Eagle nodded. “Most likely.”

By honoring each god’s style, the Goddess of Harvest and Martial Ancestor clearly wanted to win over everyone. If they were just second-tier gods, they wouldn’t need to be this considerate. After all, any god could use their faith power to decorate their own space. But these two even handled the little details—truly attentive.

Pei Sen and Eagle settled in and enjoyed a leisurely tour of the nearby mountains. It was much more relaxing than staying cooped up in their Divine Realm.

Then Pei Sen noticed—on the Summer Dynasty’s side, the players had completed their mission!

“Only a bit over ten days, and they pulled it off. Impressive,” Pei Sen said as he eagerly opened the forums to see how they did it. After all, meeting the emperor of the Summer Dynasty was no easy task. Even undercover players would take a long time to climb that high.

But when he saw the explanation—he was completely stunned.

“Man, that player really made a sacrifice.”

“And his username? Couldn’t have been more fitting: Dongfang Bubai…”
(Oriental Undefeated, a reference to a famous fictional eunuch martial artist)

“I almost picked that ID too! Hahaha.”

“Seriously, who would’ve guessed they’d infiltrate via the imperial harem route?”

“Honestly, it makes sense. You can’t just walk up to the emperor. The Summer Dynasty is massive—even officials can’t meet him easily. This was one of the only viable ways.”

“Why didn’t they just send in a palace maid instead of… that?”

“Sending a maid is harder! Palace girls are selected through formal procedures. They just had a round last year, so the next one won’t be for at least three years. You think anyone can just walk in? A eunuch is easier to arrange.”

“So that player’s living in the palace now. Has he respawned back to a guy yet? I mean… surrounded by beauties every day…”

“What good are the beauties? You can only look—plus, the system probably censors everything.”

“So… just like being a real eunuch! HAHAHA!”

Pei Sen stared, slack-jawed. He hadn’t expected the players to come up with something this outrageous.

BraisedSpicySnack’s group had leveraged their connection to Yang Tingbai’s aunt, a noble consort in the palace. That was normal—most of the emperor’s consorts were daughters of officials.

What blew Pei Sen’s mind was that after learning the emperor hadn’t left the palace in years and was hard to meet, they had sent one of the players—who had triggered the quest—into the palace… as a eunuch.

What kind of 4D chess move was that?! Entering the palace, undergoing castration, and joining the eunuch corps! And thanks to some ties with the consort’s family, the player got a good post—he was a “connected” hire.

Then he actually met the emperor and completed the quest. Even more insane—he didn’t kill himself and respawn to restore his body. He just stayed in the palace… living as a eunuch!

I mean… wow. Just wow.

Pei Sen was speechless. The world of players was truly full of surprises.

Claude was amazed too. “That guy’s incredible. They say he’s already caught the emperor’s eye. Might even climb faster than us who’ve been grinding it out the hard way.”

BraisedSpicySnack barely held back a laugh. “It’s just a game. Becoming a eunuch is kind of a unique experience. Not like you’d ever get to try that in real life.”

“Why didn’t he just die and respawn? Wouldn’t that be more comfortable?” Mí le Lù asked awkwardly.

BraisedSpicySnack shook his head. “It’s better this way. If he died and respawned with his body restored, the identity might be invalidated. That’d be a waste.”

Pei Sen finished reading the whole story and couldn’t help but click his tongue in amazement.

Weird players brought endless entertainment. And this solution? Absolutely genius.