Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 75

“Why so urgent?” the attendant Karl asks with a stern face. He wears leather boots and a crudely made brooch on his chest, and he looks rigid and indifferent as he watches the steward dismount from his donkey. His brows are so often furrowed that they’ve formed two permanent creases.

The stewards usually avoid him. He doesn’t have much actual power yet, but he’s expected to become the next chief steward. That makes him dangerous. They don’t like him, but they don’t dare offend him.

They can bully Hill, but they wouldn’t dare touch Karl.

Karl, for his part, doesn’t intervene in how they treat Hill. He sees it as a form of training.

As his nephew, Hill must endure this trial—otherwise, how will he earn the lord’s trust in the future?

“T-There’s… there’s a god…” the steward pants, rushing every word. “The Moon God descended!”

Karl’s brows furrow even deeper. He looks at the steward as if he’s an idiot. After two seconds of silence, he asks, “What are you talking about?”

He thinks it’s nonsense. Maybe the steward has gone mad.

The steward, having finally caught his breath, lifts his head and says with shining eyes, “Last night—last night the Moon God came down from the heavens! He shines divine light! And even— even lets the slaves charge into the warehouse!”

The man wants to keep going, but his words fumble.

The witch doctor behind him steps forward and says firmly, “The Moon God wants to save the slaves. He craves the strength of those who are well-fed. The Moon God may come again today. I must see the lord!”

No one here is an atheist.

But Karl is a skeptic.

He sweeps his cold gaze across the faces of the stewards.

This time, though, he doesn’t see the usual nervous signs of lying.

Still, he doesn’t trust easily.

One person may feel shame when lying. But a group? A group will believe the lie if they repeat it often enough.

Even if they make it up themselves.

“You’d better hope you’re telling the truth.” Karl steps aside. “Who’s coming with me to see the lord?”

The stewards all surge forward——but the witch doctor gets there first.

“I’m the witch doctor,” he says solemnly. “When I heal, I commune with the Moon God. No one knows Him better than I do.”

The stewards fall silent.

There’s no arguing with that. After all, witch doctors are associated with witches, and witches are linked to gods. There is truly no one more qualified than him to discuss this matter with the lord.

So, with his head held high and under the envious and jealous gazes of others, the witch doctor follows Karl into the stone house.

The reason it’s a stone house and not a castle is because this building is far from anything resembling a castle.

It has stood here for many years. Every year, a hefty sum is spent on repairs, yet the lord would rather live in this worn-down place than build a new one.

For nobles, a house isn’t merely a residence—it’s a symbol of status.

No matter how run-down, if the stone house is the lord’s residence, then he must live here till the end of time—unless the house collapses.

But the lord’s residence is still the lord’s. While it can’t compare to a castle, the stone house has two stories and a basement.

No adhesive is used in its construction—this region doesn’t produce clay. Without wooden boards, they can only stack stones, relying on their own weight to hold them in place, one by one.

Constructing such a stone house takes thousands of slaves working day and night, and might even cost dozens or hundreds of lives.

The witch doctor looks around the interior nervously and excitedly.

The floor is covered in animal skin rugs—an extravagant luxury. He itches to snatch one and run, but restrains himself.

Oil lamp bowls line both walls at regular intervals. Once lit, the corridor will glow brightly at night.

The witch doctor even thinks he can smell spices in the air.

He follows Karl deeper into the house, so far that he begins to regret coming.

Everything here is so tempting—yet he can’t take any of it. It’s torture!

After a long wait, the witch doctor finally sees the lord.

The lord sits at the far end of a long table. He’s dining alone at a table that could seat more than ten, with six or seven dishes laid out before him.

There’s crisp white bread, free of grit and bran, thick soup rich with milk and spices, and a whole roasted chicken stuffed with herbs.

Alongside those are a piece of sugar, a fried egg, and a few slices of pork.

Even for a noble, this is an impressive spread.

The witch doctor can’t help swallowing—he has never tasted food like this in his life.

The lord sets down his napkin and blinks. His small eyes—made smaller by his obesity—hold an indifferent, inquisitive gleam that contrasts with his honest appearance. He tosses his fork aside and asks flatly, “Speak. What is it?”

Before Karl can respond, the witch doctor steps forward and declares, “I am the Moon God’s messenger. I’ve come to tell you that the Moon God has descended to earth and requires you to surrender your land.”

The lord is momentarily stunned. He stares at the witch doctor, visibly surprised, even slightly amused.

Ordinarily, the witch doctor would already be groveling, but he knows this isn’t the time.

If he flatters the lord now, he’ll appear beneath him—and no matter what he says afterward, the lord won’t take him seriously.

“Moon God?” the lord frowns. “All these years, I’ve never heard of a god truly descending to earth.”

The witch doctor says, “That’s because those people weren’t lucky enough to witness a god. If gods were visible to everyone, why would there be churches? Why would there be priests?”

The lord asks, “So you’re saying you’re a priest of the Moon God?”

The witch doctor grits his teeth. “Yes.”

The lord chuckles. “If the Moon God descended just yesterday, how did you become a priest?”

The witch doctor replies, “The Moon God chose me when he arrived. He saw that only I was worthy to serve him, so I became a priest last night. I know you don’t believe me. But I don’t need your belief.” He lifts his chin. “You can treat me as a liar or a sinner—it doesn’t matter. Just don’t blame me when the Moon God holds you accountable later.”

The lord glances at Karl, who understands at once: “My lord, I’ll go check.”

The lord nods and resumes eating, not sparing the witch doctor another glance.

The roasted chicken gleams with oil, its aroma thick with spice, making the witch doctor’s legs unsteady as he turns to leave.

After Karl leaves, another servant comes to the lord’s side. He deftly pours a glass of wine—or grape juice—and asks anxiously, “Sir, could it really be the Moon God?”

The two most prominent gods in the world are the Sun God and the Moon God—ruling over day and night respectively.

The Sun God is known for justice and clarity, the Moon God for gentleness and kindness.

But gods, regardless of their nature, rarely tolerate defiance from mortals.

The servant is a little afraid. He thinks the lord should go in person, but dares not say so directly.

The lord chews a mouthful of meat, then smiles faintly. His already narrow eyes squint tighter as he speaks with scorn, “If it were so easy for gods to descend, why would he come here? Why not go to the capital? What can I offer that His Majesty the King can’t?” He sneers, “If he’s really a god, why doesn’t he show a miracle right here?”

The servant wavers but still asks, “Is it… for the slaves?”

The lord snorts. “Slaves? Do you think gods don’t want slaves? Aren’t priests and messengers called the slaves of God? They serve him for life—and even beyond. Why doesn’t God save the slaves closest to him?” His voice rises, “Slaves are those abandoned by God!” He concludes coldly, “It’s not a god who’s come—it’s someone trying to scam me.”

The servant is completely convinced. He’s in awe of the lord’s wisdom and ashamed of his own doubts.

“Then why did you let Karl go?” the servant asks, eyeing the wine stain on the lord’s lips with envy.

The lord puts down his glass. “Letting him take a look isn’t a loss. If that conman is clever, he might be of use to me,” the lord says, stroking his chin. “Divine light… There are plenty of clever people. If divine light really exists, then it would be a boon for me as well.”

He has no desire to remain in this vast but barren land. It has trapped both his father and himself.

He craves a broader world, greater power, and the envy of all.

He wants to surpass his father, to surpass his ancestors.

The lord says to the servant, “You’re right. Maybe I should go see for myself. Have them prepare the horses.”

He wants to meet this so-called “Moon God” in person.

If the man is clever, he’ll give him a manager’s position.

If not…

The lord’s gaze drops.

It will just be one more dead body.

How many people have died around him already?

What’s one more death?

Human life is cheaper than wine.