Blasphemy Wizard by Deceit World
Chapter 149 - 147: Misfortune Always Follows Good Luck

Chapter 149: Chapter 147: Misfortune Always Follows Good Luck

’The Secret Cultivator’s’ hair has always been silky smooth. Never would you expect something like this to happen.

Electric leakage?

According to the God of Victory’s description, isn’t this supposed to be a period of good luck? How could something so unlucky occur?

The Secret Cultivator’s mind was filled with question marks.

"Cough, cough, cough cough cough cough cough, cough cough cough cough cough cough cough..." Just then, a series of violent coughing sounds suddenly came from not far off.

The Secret Cultivator looked over and saw ’Rabbit’ with a face as red as a tomato, eyes wide, holding a cup of water. She looked as if she might cough out blood any second.

"What’s wrong with you?" The Secret Cultivator frowned even deeper.

Rabbit wore a face full of grievance and helplessness. "Boohoo, Boss, I was just taking a sip of water, and I choked on it. I’m so, so, so unlucky!"

Unlucky?

The Secret Cultivator’s sense of foreboding grew even stronger.

Not long after, ’White Deer’ sent a message: "Secret Cultivator, Rabbit, there’s something wrong with this ’God of Victory.’ My game character did indeed miraculously escape the trap of the ’God of Foolish Evil Play,’ but something major happened to me personally."

"What happened..." The Secret Cultivator’s fingers, while typing, began to tremble almost imperceptibly.

’White Deer’ sent a crying emoji first, followed by: "I was just sitting there, and it was so exhausting that I wanted to stretch. Then, ’snap,’ I pulled a muscle in my back. Now I can’t even bend over!"

Pulled a muscle?

The Secret Cultivator, to her credit, maintained her composure, merely pursing her lips. Rabbit, however, burst into uncontrollable laughter, rolling on the floor. The room echoed with her terrifying guffaws.

But soon enough, no one was laughing anymore. A deep sense of unease gripped them.

"Let’s continue the game."

The Secret Cultivator spoke solemnly. Rabbit immediately nodded, and the two women refocused their attention on the game.

The text refreshed.

"You escaped the trap of the ’God of Foolish Evil Play,’ feeling overjoyed and relieved to be out of danger." freēwēbnovel.com

"But just then, a terrifying Hidden Entity happened to pass by. Displeased by your joy, it glared at you fiercely. Your flesh began to twist, your skin started to rot, and despite using all your ’Extraordinary Power’ to resist, you ultimately turned into an unrecognizable puddle of vomit-like filth."

"You died."

They didn’t even survive three lines of text before dying. Two lines were just a description of how the game character perished. The Secret Cultivator’s blood pressure spiked as her expression twisted slightly.

Soon enough, Rabbit’s shrill cry came through, "Ahhh! Why did I die? Normally, a game character lasts twenty or thirty lines, maybe even progresses the plot a bit. But this time, it was just two lines?"

White Deer, on the other hand, remained silent, clearly not faring much better in his experience.

"One more try."

The Secret Cultivator, already harboring a bad inkling, needed more experimentation to confirm her theory. Her slender, elegant fingers tapped the screen, and the text refreshed before her eyes.

The process ended swiftly, with fate rewriting the conclusion of death.

Then...

"You opened your eyes again upon the strange, unknown, and eerie lands of the Old Days."

"Thinking back on the earlier experience, your face darkened, unable to fathom how earlier luck had been so favorable—some unknown Hidden Entity had attacked the ’God of Foolish Evil Play,’ giving you a chance to escape. That could practically be called a miracle. Yet in just the blink of an eye, you inexplicably died."

"Suddenly, you noticed the sky was dimming."

"You looked up to see a massive shadow descending upon you. A passing giant stepped on you, turning you into a puddle of bloody mush."

"You died."

This time, they lasted a little longer—five whole lines of text! But the outcome was no different from before.

A tremendous crashing sound erupted in the room. Rabbit, apparently overwhelmed, punched the coffee table and shattered it. "Damn it, dead again! Last time, at least we made it to two lines of text. But this time? After the ’revival’ process text, it all boiled down to just three final words: ’You died.’ They don’t even bother explaining how anymore!"

"Your character also died? And in some inexplicably absurd way?" The Secret Cultivator’s face grew heavy with concern.

Rabbit vented her frustration, pinching the bunny ears on her head as she complained to the Secret Cultivator, "Exactly, Boss. If we keep dying like this, no amount of revival chances or Destiny Fire Bottles will save us."

The Secret Cultivator finally confirmed her theory.

The good luck bestowed by the God of Victory was problematic. This mysterious deity, while capable of drastically boosting fortune for a short period, exacted a price: a long streak of unrelenting bad luck afterward.

Initially, she had hoped that chanting the God of Victory’s full honorific name to gain fortune might come without side effects, potentially serving as a powerful trump card in the future.

But now it was clear.

Although chanting the God of Victory’s full honorific name didn’t immediately bring misfortune, receiving good luck always came with some trade-off.

It seemed today, continuing to play the game was no longer an option. With their current streak of luck, even countless revivals wouldn’t suffice.

Just as the Secret Cultivator was pondering this, a message came through.

"How is it, Secret Cultivator? Your game characters should be out of trouble by now, right?"

...

...

Elsewhere.

Yang Qizhou held ten or so small crystal-like stones in his hands, his eyes gleaming with delight. "’The Secret Cultivator,’ ’Rabbit,’ ’White Deer’—their pious chanting has unexpectedly produced over ten ’Old Sacrifices.’"

It’s no wonder Yang Qizhou was so thrilled.

Originally, he just wanted to test the powers of the God of Victory. Who would have thought their prayers would activate the Star Spirit’s ’Faith Collection’ mechanism?

Over ten Old Sacrifices might not be a lot, but those who chant the God of Victory’s full honorific name are few and far between.

If three individuals could produce this much, then what about thirty, three hundred, or three thousand? Even though ordinary people’s lower level in the flesh hierarchy might yield less, it would still be Old Sacrifices. With enough believers, the potential would be undeniably substantial.

At the moment, the fuzzy God of Victory perspective still lingered, though it was gradually fading due to the lack of proper prayers. Via this divine sight, Yang Qizhou clearly observed the chaotic flames burning briefly before extinguishing.

Next, he also saw the violent reactions of ’The Secret Cultivator,’ ’Rabbit,’ and ’White Deer.’

This made Yang Qizhou curl his lips into a grin.

"The God of Victory’s miraculous powers burned through all of ’The Secret Cultivator’s’ good fortune in one go. Now, these people are stuck in a perpetual state of bad luck—tripping while walking, choking while drinking, or being struck by the smallest misfortune. In essence, they’ve turned into living embodiments of the Mold God."

Still, Yang Qizhou wasn’t too worried. Through the God of Victory’s perspective, he could see the indescribable colors spreading around ’The Secret Cultivator.’ Her good fortune was gradually recovering.

Since their game characters had escaped harm, wasn’t it time for payment?

Yang Qizhou grinned as he sent a message: "Secret Cultivator, your game characters should be out of trouble by now, right?"

Elsewhere.

The Secret Cultivator pondered how to reply to the lamp holder’s message.

Though the side effects were severe, bringing a streak of dramatic bad luck, chanting the God of Victory’s full honorific name had indeed allowed their game characters to escape. Compared to this outcome, enduring a bit of misfortune seemed an acceptable price.

Next, as per their agreement, she was to transfer 5000 Old Sacrifices to the lamp holder as payment.

Five thousand Old Sacrifices.

Even the Secret Cultivator felt a pang at the cost.

"Boss, Boss, giving him 5000 Old Sacrifices is such a waste. After all, the lamp holder doesn’t know if our game characters really escaped. Why not just tell him chanting the God of Victory’s full name didn’t work? That way, we’d save all those Old Sacrifices." Rabbit, disheartened by the enormous sum, proposed a mischievous plan.

Little did this young lady know that her every move had been observed by a certain ’Wizard.’

"Well, well, young lady. Bold of you to encourage your boss to renege on our deal. Don’t blame me for getting even." Yang Qizhou’s grin grew even more sinister.

He channeled the power of ’Gathering Fortune’ through the lingering Faith Channel as a medium, under the guise of shepherding the God of Victory.

Poor Rabbit, whatever meager good fortune she had just recovered was immediately siphoned away by Yang Qizhou, though she remained completely oblivious.

The Secret Cultivator, while tempted by Rabbit’s suggestion, gave it some thought and shook her head.

"Hand over the Old Sacrifices."

"But..." Rabbit wanted to protest further.

The Secret Cultivator waved her off. "Rabbit, there are many things you don’t understand, and you’re unaware of how terrifying the lamp holder is. Five thousand Old Sacrifices might be a hefty sum, and perhaps lying could deceive him—but what if it doesn’t? Offending such a formidable figure over 5000 Old Sacrifices simply isn’t worth it."

Seeing her boss’s mind was made up, Rabbit had no choice but to relent. Still, she muttered under her breath: Boss, you’re the Secret Cultivator, the founder of the Secret Cultivation Society. No matter how strong the lamp holder might be, do we really need to fear him this much?

"Oh, come on!"

Rabbit tripped while walking, chipping half her front tooth. Screaming in pain, she wailed, "Even if I die, I’ll never chant the God of Victory’s full name again. This is so ridiculously cursed!"

Elsewhere.

Yang Qizhou raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Didn’t expect the Secret Cultivator to be this trustworthy."

Shortly after, the Secret Cultivator sent a message...

"Lamp holder, I’ve deposited 5000 Old Sacrifices in the Destiny Exchange, designated for you to collect."