Li Wei's first day as the Supreme Deity was not going well.
He was sitting on a throne made of frozen starlight, wearing robes that were definitely not machine washable, and staring at a 700-page budget proposal for the Celestial Ministry of Auspicious Cloud Formations.
His head hurt.
He missed his dorm room.
He missed a life where his most important decision was "instant noodles now, or instant noodles later?"
He was so, so screwed.
**
He had also, in the chaos of his impromptu election and mandatory orientation, forgotten one very important thing.
He had forgotten to end his livestream.
The camera, a tiny, invisible mote of magical energy, was still active.
It was hovering in the corner of the throne room, broadcasting his every confused, miserable moment to the entire, waiting cosmos.
The viewers had been watching him sleep for eight hours.
The chat was getting restless.
[USER: DemonicOverlord_Dave]
Okay, the 'sleeping god' arc was interesting, but can we get some plot progression please?
[USER: Penglai_Phoenix_Fanclub]
He drools in his sleep. This is vital information for the ship.
Then, Gan, the God of Proper Filing Procedures, scurried into the throne room, carrying another mile-high stack of scrolls.
"Supreme Deity-Elect Li," he droned. "We must now review the quarterly performance reports for the Department of Karmic Retribution."
Li Wei just stared at the scroll, his eyes glazing over with pure, unadulterated boredom.
He picked up the imperial seal, a stamp so heavy it had its own gravitational pull.
"Yeah, yeah, looks great," he mumbled, not even reading it.
He stamped the document with a resounding thud.
"Approved."
The livestream chat went nuclear.
**
[USER: WaterNymph_69]
HE DIDN'T EVEN READ IT. HE JUST APPROVED A 10% INCREASE IN SMITING.
[USER: MinorGod_Steve]
This is the most transparent government in the history of the universe. I love it.
[USER: ChaosEnjoyer420]
LMAO, new poll just dropped. Should we make gravity optional on weekends?
The suggestion, meant as a joke, caught on like wildfire.
A poll appeared in the live chat, created by a user.
[Should gravity be optional on weekends?]
A) Yes (5.6 million votes)
B) No (12 votes from the Celestial Physics Guild)
The people had spoken.
In the mortal realm, a man who was walking his dog on a Saturday morning suddenly floated three feet into the air.
His dog, a very confused golden retriever, floated with him.
It was chaos.
It was democracy.
It was the future of divine governance.
**
Yang Mode watched the chaos unfold from the back of Li Wei's mind.
He saw the user-generated polls. He saw the real-time impact on cosmic law.
He saw not a disaster, but a system.
A deeply flawed, inefficient, and utterly chaotic system.
And he knew, with the cold, hard certainty of a god of pure logic, that he could make it better.
He took control.
Li Wei's bored, slouching posture straightened.
His eyes flashed gold.
He strode to the celestial communication console.
"This is inefficient," he announced to the stunned throne room. "The current system of governance-by-live-chat is prone to trolling and lacks a robust verification system."
He began to code, his fingers flying across a keyboard of pure light.
"I am creating a new application," he declared. "'Democratic Divinity.' A user-friendly interface where all sentient beings can propose, debate, and vote on new universal laws."
"All votes will be verified through a soul-signature blockchain to prevent fraud. All legislative proposals will be subject to a 24-hour public commentary period."
He was turning their chaotic meme-fest into a legitimate, functioning, and terrifyingly efficient digital democracy.
**
The old guard of the Celestial Bureaucracy was not happy.
Gan and a delegation of uptight, ancient secretaries stormed the throne room.
"Supreme Deity!" Gan sputtered, his face a mask of pure, procedural horror. "This is unacceptable! There are no forms for this! There are no protocols!"
"You can't just... let the mortals vote!" another secretary wailed. "They'll vote for more holidays! And less smiting! It will be anarchy!"
Yin Mode, who had resurfaced just in time to see the chaos, just grinned.
He looked at the angry, sputtering bureaucrats.
He looked at the live chat, which was now debating the optimal flavor for rain. (The current frontrunner was "strawberry lemonade.")
And he treated it all like the greatest game show in the universe.
"Okay, bureaucrats!" he announced, his voice booming with the false confidence of a seasoned host. "You make a good point! So, let's put it to a vote!"
He pointed a dramatic finger at the camera.
"Viewers!" he yelled. "Should we govern with ancient, boring protocols, or with the chaotic, beautiful will of the people?! Smash that like button for democracy!"
The livestream's "like" counter exploded.
The bureaucrats were defeated.
By a popularity contest.
**
The new system was a glorious, beautiful disaster.
The universe was now being run by the collective, chaotic, and often terrible ideas of everyone in it.
The moon was officially declared a protected space for lonely deities.
Mondays were abolished.
And the official bird of the cosmos was now the pigeon.
It was the most fair, most transparent, and most utterly insane government in history.
But amid the chaos, a new kind of poll appeared on the Democratic Divinity app.
It wasn't about gravity, or pigeons, or the flavor of rain.
It was a serious, philosophical, and deeply problematic proposal.
[PROPOSED UNIVERSAL LAW #734: Make Love Mandatory.]
[Description: To promote universal happiness and reduce conflict, all sentient beings will be required to enter a state of unconditional love for all other sentient beings.]
The votes poured in.
It was winning.
By a landslide.
**
Li Wei stared at the poll, his blood running cold.
He saw the appeal. A universe without hate. Without conflict. Without pain.
A universe of pure, unconditional love.
It sounded like paradise.
But he thought of Feng Yue.
Of her fierce pride. Of her fiery anger. Of her beautiful, stubborn, and utterly un-programmable heart.
He thought of their arguments. Their struggles. Their messy, chaotic, and completely imperfect relationship.
Would he trade that? For a world of bland, mandatory affection?
He thought of the right to choose.
The right to be angry. The right to be sad. The right to be a mess.
The right to love who you wanted, how you wanted, even if it was a stupid, chaotic, and completely illogical choice.
And he knew, with a certainty that transcended both Yin and Yang, what he had to do.
He stepped in front of the camera, his face grim.
"No," he said, his voice quiet, but ringing with the authority of a true king.
He used his new, supreme divine power for the first time.
Not to create. Not to destroy.
But to veto.
"This vote is cancelled," he declared. "Love is not a law. It's a choice. And I will not be the god who takes that choice away from you."
"Even," he said, a small, sad smile on his face, "if you make the wrong one."
It was his first real act as a leader.
A defense of free will. A protection of the heart.
It was a moment of profound, beautiful, and noble sacrifice.
And it was, of course, the moment that everything went to hell.
A frantic, urgent notification flashed across every screen in existence.
It was a direct, system-wide alert from Chang'e on the moon.
[BREAKING NEWS: The Demon Realm has just launched their own streaming platform. They're calling it 'DevilTok'.]
[They have declared war on your viewer base.]
A new, terrifying system message appeared, overriding everything else.
Red, angry, and filled with the promise of cosmic violence.
[BATTLE OF THE PLATFORMS INITIATED.]
đź“Ł [SYSTEM NOTICE: AUTHOR SUPPORT INTERFACE]
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