Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 76

“…It’s broken,” someone whispers.

Karl instantly lunges at the steward, his face twisted in fury, eyes bulging. He slaps the steward hard. The man, already elderly, falls to the ground from just that one blow.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?!” Karl roars. “I’m going to report this to the lord! You’re not worthy of being a steward—you don’t even deserve to be a free man! You—your parents, your children—you should all be slaves!”

The steward collapses to the ground, panic written all over his face. He crawls toward Karl and grabs the hem of his trousers, sobbing and begging, “I was wrong, I was wrong, Lord Karl, please don’t do this to me! I’ve worked so hard for the lord, I would die for him—just don’t make me a slave, Lord Karl!”

Karl kicks him away. “Don’t touch me!”

He walks over, takes out a handkerchief, and carefully collects the butterfly’s remains.

“I have to go see the lord,” Karl says coldly. He doesn’t even glance at the steward again. “Keep an eye on him.”

He points to the steward still groveling on the ground.

The other stewards say nothing. None dare plead on his behalf. They can only watch as Karl leaves with the witch doctor.

“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to…” the old steward sobs, lying on the ground and repeating himself again and again.

He looks at the others, pleading, “You all heard it, right? Karl yelled at me—that’s why I lost control! Right? You all heard it, didn’t you?!”

But no one responds.

Even the stewards who used to be close to him turn away, pretending not to hear.

Meanwhile, inside the cabin, Som tends to Hill and waits for Karl to return—but Karl never comes.

Hill is still alive. Whether he’s just that tough or the witch doctor’s medicine is working, it’s unclear. His condition hasn’t worsened, but there’s no improvement either. He remains unconscious.

Som grows anxious. He goes to the door several times to check outside, and finally sees Karl walking away.

He is stunned.

Karl has abandoned his own nephew?

They’re blood relatives!

Som turns his head to look at Hill lying unconscious on the bed and, unexpectedly, feels a twinge of sadness.

He’s never liked Hill—Hill is arrogant and cruel, often beating and scolding his companions.

But still, Som is grateful to him. If it hadn’t been for Hill, he might have become a slave long ago.

His family has no money or status. Even among free people, they’re the lowest of the low—always in debt to the lord, never able to repay it. Without Hill’s help, he would likely be among the slaves now, working day and night.

Som walks over to the bed and looks down at Hill’s pale face.

He hopes Hill survives.

And if not, he hopes he at least dies without pain.

As for himself…

Som covers his face helplessly.

He has no choice. Perhaps becoming a slave is his fate.

The shattered glass butterfly receives far more reverence than any modern ornament deserves. It is placed gently on a desk, resting on a wool pad worth many times more than it.

The lord doesn’t even dare to sit—he only stands at the side, staring at it as he marvels aloud, “This must be the work of a god. A god turned the butterfly into unmelting ice.”

Unmelting ice, yet shimmering with so many colors. Only a powerful god like the Moon God could do such a thing. Neither the Wind God nor the Water God could manage it.

Karl whispers, “Maybe someone—or something—touched it before us, and that’s why it shattered like this.”

Though he’s just threatened the steward, saying he’ll make him a slave, Karl ultimately covers for him.

Not out of kindness—he’s simply been there when it happened. If the lord gets angry, Karl won’t be able to escape responsibility.

The lord’s curiosity is piqued. “Do you think the Moon God really lives on the moon? Could He take us there too?”

While the servants of the gods are still slaves in their own right—it’s like being the king’s page: even if you want the job, you might not qualify.

Karl replies, “If the Moon God sees your sincerity, He will surely take you. After all, you are noble and great, unlike ordinary people.”

“I just don’t know what the Moon God likes…” the lord says wistfully, still staring at the butterfly. “If only I could have seen it while it was still intact.”

Karl is regretful too.

The two of them discuss their newfound belief. Now that they’re convinced the Moon God is real, they have to find a way to prove their sincerity.

“What’s so great about going to the capital anyway?” the lord snorts. “In the capital, you might not even get any land. How many nobles are there now? There’s only one title to pass around, and you have to rely on that to get by.”

Some small families are willing to support nobles—even destitute ones—so they can use the noble title for appearances. It’s mutually beneficial.

But for nobles, titles come from the king. The good lands are long gone, and no noble in his right mind would go lord over a barren wasteland. Better to stay in the capital and wait for a patron.

The lord has once wanted to go to the capital because this land is so poor.

The soil is infertile and hardly grows anything. He still has meat and wine now, but only because his grandfather and father spent generations exploiting the people to save up a small fortune for him to squander.

That “squandering” only means eating meat at every meal.

Many of the animal skin rugs in his stone house are moth-eaten and haven’t been replaced.

“Go tell the steward to check if there’s anything else in the warehouse worth taking out,” the lord grumbles. “This place is just too poor.”

He doesn’t have much that’s valuable. He owns a golden bowl, but surely the Moon God wouldn’t care about gold.

The gods love fine wine, but his wine is terrible.

“Take whatever’s in the wine cellar and package it,” the lord says, still gazing infatuatedly at the butterfly. “The Moon God must see how pious I am! Even if I can’t go to the moon with Him, I must at least earn His reward!”

Even broken, the butterfly still has value. The lord thinks that if he gifts it to a higher-ranking noble, he might be able to trade it for a better territory.

But he doesn’t dare give it away now—for fear the Moon God might find out.

Yet, if he can earn the Moon God’s favor—if the gods themselves reward him—he could gain benefits that others can’t even imagine.

Maybe… maybe he can become king!

The thought of such a future excites him.

“Hurry! Go check what else we can bring out!”

Tonight is his chance to change his fate.

Dark clouds cover the moon. The stars are dim. But flickering lights fill the hillside as countless people raise torches, their eyes fixed on the horizon, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Moon God.

The witch doctor mutters, dancing around the fire with strange bird feathers in his hair.

No one laughs at his antics. Not even the solemnly dressed lord.

The lord wears his most formal ceremonial robes—brightly colored and full of intricate patterns.

Dyes are rare, and vivid ones even rarer—sometimes not even money can buy them.

Even if you manage to buy such clothes, they fade after just two washes and become unsightly. Most people only wear them once and wipe them clean with a dry cloth before storing them away carefully.

Only when the fabric can no longer pass as formalwear is it washed and worn as everyday clothing.

Not far away, Ye Zhou watches the lord.

The pale, pudgy lord looks almost pitiful beside the emaciated slaves gathered in the distance.

He doesn’t look like a bad person—with his big nose, small eyes, and round face, he even looks a little honest. He seems like the kind of person you’d think is kind and good-natured.

Ye Zhou asks quietly, “Are all the preparations ready?”

Chen Shu replies, “Ready.”

Ye Zhou nods. “Then let’s begin.”

Zou Ming places the fireworks not far off, and Chen Shu has someone ready with a powerful flashlight.

Ye Zhou gives Zou Ming a wink.

Zou Ming lights the fuse.

“The Moon God still hasn’t arrived,” the lord mutters, tired of standing but too afraid to sit.

Karl says quickly, “My lord, please stay standing.”

“I know…” the lord sighs.

Just as he speaks, a loud explosion shakes the air, and a burst of blue light blossoms in the sky.

Everyone looks up.

A huge blue firework blooms against the night, dazzling and bright, illuminating the darkness before fading.

Then another one—this time golden.

It’s even more beautiful than the butterfly.

Boom after boom follows, but people no longer flinch. They stare in awe at the flowers blooming in the sky, each one brighter and bigger than the last—painting the heavens like a divine masterpiece.

The lord’s mouth hangs open, and he doesn’t even notice when a bug flies in. His whole body tingles, from head to toe.

Then, as the final firework fades, a brilliant white light appears beneath the tree by the cliff.

A figure stands within that glowing light.

No one can make out his face or form.

But everyone knows—

It isn’t him. (他 human being)

It’s HIM. (祂 God)

The most exalted god in the world—the god who can change their fates.

The lord immediately falls to his knees with a loud thud.

He raises his arms and bows down deeply, trembling with reverence.

If he could, he would kiss the toes of the god.

His voice shakes: “Lord Moon God, I am your most devout believer!”

Even if he hasn’t been before—he is now.