1 From Draft Pick to Chosen Deity

A clear and gentle female voice sounded.

“Hello, is this the place for the selec—” Select the contestants?

Hector, the attendant at the temple, paused for a moment.

Tilting his head slightly, he quietly looked at her and said, “Yes, this is the place for… selecting gods.”

“That’s great.” Zhiwei, relieved to receive confirmation, hurried over a couple of steps and stood beside Hector, exhaling in relief.

She smiled sheepishly, “This place is so big, I got lost.”

She had already been wandering inside the TV station building for twenty minutes, with no phone signal and unable to send messages on WeChat.

But now it was fine! She had finally found the studio where the talent show she was participating in was being held!

Hector was silent for a moment, somewhat puzzled.

In his eyes, this place was naturally grand, solemn, and vast—because it was a temple.

It was the resting place of a deity who had fallen over three thousand years ago. For these past three millennia, it had preserved the shattered divine essence and continuously held a god-selection competition every ten years.

Welcoming the newly chosen god to ascend and awaiting the passing of the old gods.

Zhiwei could not see this place as a temple.

She thought it was a studio.

She was quite reasonable—she had entered the TV station building, so naturally, if she got lost, it was inside the TV station building. She had found the talent show’s location inside the building; if it wasn’t a studio, what else could it be?

Zhiwei looked up and glanced around.

Wow, she gasped inwardly. This talent show had a sci-fi vibe!

Looking around, she saw a towering giant dome inside the building, like a semicircular hat covering the space before her.

The dome enclosed the interior of the studio, with delicate and intricate relief carvings on the outside, every detail radiating breathtaking brilliance.

This talent show was not only sci-fi-themed but also internationalized!

The staff member speaking to her was clearly of mixed heritage, with deep-set features and a straight nose. His hair was black, but his eyes, looking her way, gleamed with a honey-amber hue, shimmering faintly.

He wore a fluorescent blue uniform, cut with geometric shapes, a shoulder patch on his sleeve. At a glance, it carried a futuristic industrial feel.

Zhiwei’s facial expression management was impeccable—gentle, energetic, and friendly, and inside, she was already cheering.

Such a well-funded production! With her years of experience as an underground idol, she could tell this show had invested heavily and had great potential!

She raised her eyebrows, smiled warmly, her eyes bright and approachable, and fixed her gaze on Hector.

To avoid any language barrier with the mixed-race young man, she thoughtfully slowed her speech: “Hello, my name is Zhiwei. I’m here to selec—”

While Zhiwei observed her surroundings, Hector was studying her as well.

He saw she was young, with black hair and eyes, long hair slightly curled and fluffy down to her waist.

She wore a clean white shirt with a dark green cloak over it, black trousers, and leather shoes.

Her clothes were neat and refined, but Hector noticed they were neither combat gear nor protective clothing; she carried no weapons.

More notably, she had no bodyguards with her—she had come alone.

She seemed a bit modest in means, yet spoke softly and genuinely, treating even a mere attendant like him with polite and proper manners, clearly exhibiting noble etiquette.

This left Hector uncertain about her origins.

He nodded and said, “Those who come here are all here for the open auditions. Please wait a moment…”

Zhiwei raised her eyebrows slightly and hummed softly.

Open auditions? She was already inside the studio, and they still called it an open audition?

She noticed Hector pulled out a handheld scanning device and scanned her face.

She was puzzled but held back from asking.

She maintained her smile, refraining from speaking rashly.

Hector checked the device, confirmed the results, then looked at Zhiwei and said, “Sorry, there’s no record of your information. Can I register you on the spot?”

Zhiwei’s face showed no reaction, but inside, she was astounded. She simply said, “I’ve registered before.”

What was this about? Who would register on site?!

She had not only registered but also passed the video preliminary and offline reexamination for this talent show.

Otherwise, how could she have found the studio inside the TV station building by herself?

She was about to ask when she saw the staff remained calm.

Hector nodded, acknowledging her statement, then asked, “You came alone?”

Zhiwei suppressed her doubts and said nothing.

“Yes,” she joked, “At my level, of course I have no assistant. I handle everything myself.”

Hector didn’t fully understand her words but got the gist.

He understood. Those who claim to have registered but have no record are usually from remote, barren stars.

Only in the outer fringes of the galaxy would there be poor signals, making it impossible to register properly.

Hector snapped to attention and first took her to do a contamination level test. “I understand… Anyway, please come with me first for the test.”

The contamination level test was a crucial step before selecting a god.

The contamination level represented how much a person was tainted, reflecting their impure thoughts and selfishness toward the divine.

It was the “purity” required for selecting a god.

The more devout the believer, the lower the contamination level. If it was too high, that human was deemed untrustworthy and naturally could not participate in the god selection.

In past open auditions, there were candidates from barren stars. Hector did not discriminate against these rough people from remote places, but he had to admit that since barren stars were far from divine protection, their contamination levels generally failed the test.

What outstanding candidates could possibly come from barren stars?

As Hector prepared to test Zhiwei, she wondered what the test was for. Did the talent show have a written exam now?

But she was not careless.

“Thank you,” she smiled gently, following Hector. When he slightly bowed and gestured to show her the way, she hastily nodded and politely returned the invitation gesture, almost bowing to him.

Zhiwei was savvy!

There were no cameras in sight, but who knew where hidden cameras might be?

Though she had only been an underground idol and never participated in a talent show, she knew the tricks of the entertainment industry well.

Being impolite even during interactions with staff could be magnified and lead to nasty edits.

So she was extremely polite to Hector, to the point he felt a bit unaccustomed.

Hector took her to a small room nearby to register and measure her contamination level.

While waiting for the results, he brought her a glass of water, which she took with both hands and nodded to thank him.

“You don’t have to be like this,” he said nervously in a quiet voice. “I’m just an attendant; there’s no need for such courtesy.”

Zhiwei lowered her eyes, drank quietly.

“What’s your name…” she asked.

Hector’s eyes brightened, and he quickly replied, “Oh, just call me Hector.”

“No one has asked for my name before; you’re different from others,” he muttered softly, as if talking to himself.

Zhiwei felt there was something odd about him…

The contamination analyzer next to them was still diligently flashing red lights, the blue data bar slowly progressing.

She stared at the machine, wanting to ask what it was measuring but held her tongue.

The red light flashing was unsettling, carrying a faint aura of danger.

Zhiwei sensed something strange; everything was so mysterious. But she thought maybe it was just measuring body temperature—or perhaps it was just the style of the production team?

She also suspected it might be some hidden camera skit, given how the staff spoke.

But since the drama was unfolding, how could she not play along?

So Zhiwei looked sincere, spoke earnestly, and responded warmly to the staff’s humble words, pouring in encouragement.

Her professional charm was cultivated through practice—her tone lively and natural, eyes clear and bright, fully embodying the “little sun” persona.

Looking at Hector, she said firmly, “It’s okay, don’t think like that. Believe in yourself, that’s how you succeed. The only ones who can save us from disaster are ourselves, right?”

A positive attitude, indomitable spirit, and steadfast ambition—that’s the basic training of an idol!

Zhiwei delivered all of it perfectly in her pep talk to Hector!

She was about to cheer for herself.

Unfortunately, Hector was taken aback, narrowing his eyes.

Hesitant, he stopped moving, placed his hand near his waist, staring into Zhiwei’s eyes, and immediately refuted, “Of course not.”

His tone was low and serious: “We should believe in the gods; the gods will save us from disaster, right?”

In an instant, it turned into a test.

He keenly sensed the difference between her and himself. His hand moved to the weapon at his waist, ready to subdue her if needed.

Zhiwei thought: …What kind of plot is this?

How was she supposed to respond?

Seeing her confused, Hector’s vigilance rose further. Just as he was about to ask more, the contamination test result came in.

He looked away and then widened his eyes in shock.

Contamination level: zero.

Hector’s hand at his waist relaxed immediately. He stared blankly at the screen: “…Zero?”

…Her contamination level was actually zero?!

What did that mean?! It meant this person had no trace of selfish thoughts, wholeheartedly devoted to the gods!

She must be extremely devout! Hector regretted doubting her sincerity earlier; he felt utterly guilty.

His suspicion wasn’t of Zhiwei but rather a lack of reverence toward the gods!

He stood there stunned, then suddenly turned, his gaze now fervently fixed on her.

Zhiwei: …??

“May I enter now?” She pointed toward the distant dome and asked.

“Of course, of course!” Hector bowed slightly and immediately led her toward the dome.

As Hector brought her inside, Zhiwei looked around.

It was a large circular arena, surrounded by suspended crystal-blue virtual screens, with scattered groups of people sitting around.

Most were clustered in groups, several people surrounding one, doting on them like stars around the moon.

At the center was a spot emitting a dazzling light—a cylindrical beam that could hold one person.

Virtual screens rapidly refreshed data, which Zhiwei glanced at but barely understood.

But it was enough to make her question reality.

Technology had advanced this far? The show had really spent a fortune? Where were the cameras? Why hadn’t any contestants come over to interact?

Zhiwei had wanted to mingle a bit, hoping to snag some camera time.

But the people she saw all wore stern expressions.

She abandoned the idea.

The solemn atmosphere unconsciously made her nervous.

Zhiwei took a deep breath to calm herself.

She had waited a long time for this chance, took leave from her internet tech job, sneaked out, and came to participate in this talent show.

Previously, she worked 996 at a big internet company while moonlighting as an underground idol, surviving on caffeine and strong tea.

But now it was different! Now, she finally had an opportunity to turn her idol dream into a career!

Her mind raced with thoughts.

Yes! She was about to shine brightly, ready with her singing, dancing, and rap to impress the judges and receive her preliminary rating!

Then she would work hard on the theme song, overcome all challenges, and strive to debut through this talent show!

She closed her eyes to rest and adjust her state. After a while, Hector came over.

He bent down and whispered in her ear, “It’s your turn, contestant Zhiwei.”

“Quite serious…” Zhiwei muttered about the term “contestant.” Shouldn’t she be called a dream chaser, a hopeful, or a prospective group member?

Zhiwei stood, shoved all her belongings into a canvas bag, and handed it to Hector for safekeeping.

Hector guided her to the central light pillar beneath the dome.

Zhiwei was baffled but followed.

She thought it was an elevator, and going up would lead to the stage. However, as soon as she stepped into the light, a strong flash blinded her, and she saw nothing.

But her professional discipline remained!

She remembered to establish her persona from the moment she appeared, maintaining a perfect promotional smile, slightly tilting her head and nodding gently.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing at the center of the stage, right beside the host.

Zhiwei: …Did the elevator move? I didn’t feel it.

She looked up and froze.

Wait? Is this a studio? Why was the audience packed so densely?

This looked more like a stadium, with at least tens of thousands of people… Was this even possible? The Bird’s Nest stadium couldn’t hold that many, right?

Those close were real, but what were those distant shadows?

Zhiwei’s experience as an underground idol helped her manage her expression perfectly. Though inside she was a storm of emotions, no one could tell.

The host wasn’t human but a smooth glowing orb with two antennae acting as hands, floating beside her, greeting her.

She restrained herself to keep a gentle expression.

“Hello, Zhiwei, may I call you that?” the host said softly.

No matter how gentle, the calm, mechanical electronic voice was unmistakable.

Zhiwei’s eyes glazed, smiling brightly: “Of course.”

The host raised its volume: “Fellow citizens, at the open auditions for this god-selection, we welcome a contestant from a barren star, Zhiwei!”

“Now, the floor is yours—please present your campaign manifesto!”

Zhiwei wished she could tear her ears off and bite them!

Damn ears! What was that? Was that even human speech?

...What campaign manifesto? I’m here for a talent show. What am I supposed to be selecting?!

What on earth is this?!