Yanfengle liked to think he was a dutiful kid with stellar grades, a straight pine in a winter wind, helping with small things like spring rain on dusty roads.
Maybe the gods were moved by those little kindnesses, like a lantern swaying over a dark ford, because that very night a deity visited his dreams and handed him a brutal quest: save another world.
The shock rang through him for a whole year in a single heartbeat, like thunder trapped in a bell; a lifelong atheist learning there were gods—and another world?
Pity he never got to spread that juicy news like seeds on a breeze; the bargain deity expedited him that same night like mail flung through a storm.
After rattling off his birthplace and a few isekai basics, the bargain deity hurled him into the sky, ten-thousand meters up, a lone leaf tossed into the blue.
Thank the stars the deity kept the line open like a silver thread, and wrapped him in protective magic as he fell, or he’d have speed-ran reincarnation.
Not everyone was so lucky; the poor bishop met the envoy’s descent like a moth meeting a bonfire, and finished his last day as bishop that very day.
Now the bishop has gloriously retired to a quiet sanatorium, like a kite cut free from its string, living a carefree life with soft walls and softer smiles.
“I shouted so loud the clouds shook—why didn’t you dodge…” Yanfengle sent a silent prayer, like incense curling upward, hoping the old man was fine—except the head.
For the emperor, it was a tragedy wrapped in velvet; that bishop was a rare chess piece, a rook guarding a king, and he’d followed him for years.
Yet on the other hand, this was the Divine Envoy, a banner in the wind; he still needed the envoy to help Kasviel rise again, not fall silent.
So the emperor swallowed his anger like bitter tea and showed a smile, rain on lacquer; if the envoy weren’t barely stronger than a commoner, he’d hurt less.
Fortunately, the envoy’s talent gleamed like a freshly honed blade; with training and time, he’d become real steel on the battlefield, not just a pretty scabbard.
For months, Yanfengle lived like an immortal on holiday, a crane strolling through a garden; whatever he wanted, the emperor arranged, like trays sliding on silk.
No phones, no internet, no ga—well, there were games; this world’s tech tree bloomed like a steel lotus, with magic standing in for electricity in bright arcs.
Cutting-edge gadgets dotted daily life like stars over a lake; if anything felt missing, it was the internet’s humming web, the spider-silk that never slept.
He didn’t forget the deity’s quest; after he arrived, their link shifted like a drumbeat changing tempo—chatting was fine, but real help required quests completed.
Every so often, mandatory tasks dropped like stones in a pond, ripples spreading whether he liked it or not, rules printed in cold celestial ink.
It felt familiar, like déjà vu in a mirror; he’d seen this kind of system before, a UI hiding behind incense smoke.
[Kiddo, remember: if you haven’t reached Third-Tier magic by this afternoon, you know what happens…]
“You kidding me? I just hit Second Tier a few days ago! And what’s with ‘kiddo’? Who calls me that?”
[I think it sounds cute, like a kitten in a sleeve. Why don’t you call me Sys-mom? You keep saying I’m basically a system anyway.]
“Don’t you dare bargain me, you bargain deity. You’re cosplaying a system like some android god, and now you’re petty because I called you out.”
[Kiddo, how can you say that? I’d never retaliate—boo-hoo. These quests roll at random; I’m just the admin pushing buttons, la-la.]
“Not buying it. And stop calling me kiddo! I have a name. It’s Yanfengle.”
[Got it, kiddo. Understood, kiddo.]
The bargain deity cut the link like snipping a thread.
“That jerk…”
He sighed first, a kettle letting off steam, then spoke. “I’d planned to tour the royal capital this afternoon, but I guess it’s back to the practice grounds.”
Endless training had become routine, like tide after tide; when he first arrived, he’d been rattled—one look from the emperor and his SAN dropped like a thermometer.
He couldn’t complain; he’d turned their grand bishop into a mental husk on day one, a porcelain vase cracked by thunder, and not being spit-roasted was mercy.
Things eased only after they tested his talent, a seal pressed in warm wax; conversations returned to normal, and the air stopped crackling like a storm.
Emperor Kairen Franchid gave him a quiet residence within the palace, a pond behind shaded bamboo; he could come and go freely, no leash on his ankle.
Yanfengle had braced for three years of house arrest, a bird behind gilded bars; Franchid’s lenience left him relieved, and—oddly—slightly disappointed, like a blade without a duel.
Yanfengle carried big dreams like flags in a mountain wind; bland idling bored him, and he longed for the smug, crooked-smile thrill of being truly untouchable.
And so he drifted and trained, until his magic reached Fourth Tier, and his body, too—fourth-tier warrior, muscles like cords and mana like coiled light.
One day, Kairen Franchid handed him an invitation, white paper like falling snow.
“Heavenly Melody Academy?”
“Yes.” Franchid sipped tea with a gentle smile, steam like a veil.
“It sits in Starfate City of the Radiant Empire, a place where the continent’s finest resources gather like cranes by a clear lake.
As a shareholder, the Kasviel Empire holds one guaranteed slot, though with your talent you may not need it, heh.”
“I hope you’ll represent Kasviel there, Divine Envoy. I believe you’ll learn much, like spring water running clear.
Publicly, you’re already our Holy Son; with that name, you can walk most lands like wind through reeds, seldom hindered.”
“Ah… identity’s whatever, honestly, but I really don’t want to—”
[Urgent Quest: Attend Heavenly Melody Academy and graduate with perfect marks. Reward: Legendary Weapon Selector.]
“…”
“When should I depart, Your Majesty?”
[Smells good now, huh? Kiddo, that academy holds more than a single legendary weapon could measure, like a sea beyond a cup.]
‘Don’t do that, sis—you saying that makes me nervous, like thunder behind a door.’
[What’s to fear? A normal person would be over the moon, like fireworks in daylight.]
‘Because that means it’s crawling with monsters, right?
Last time you sent me to Darkdusk Forest to catch a rabbit—said it was amazing—and I almost became rabbit droppings.’
[Oops, accident! I didn’t think you were that weak, like tofu in hot pot.]
‘You sweet-talk me every time! You hide the traps and sell the sugar, then shove me face-first into the bushes.’
He’d pegged the bargain deity’s specialty: sales pitches like silk, dangers like knives behind fans; never trust her whole script.
[Fine, one more perk. My intel says the academy has many pretty noble ladies, blossoms on a jeweled branch.
Kiddo, didn’t you want a romance?]
“…”
‘Tch. You infuriating bargain deity—always dangling this bait like candied haw on a stick.’
It was hard to refuse honey when you smelled it.
“Divine Envoy?”
“Ah, I was chatting with the deity. Please don’t mind it.”
“…”
