In the transfer station of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom.
Ling Hansu reflected on her own experiences, a wave of complex emotions surfacing; it took her a long while to finally come to terms with a fact—
"Mo... Mr. Mo, am I, have I survived?"
Mo Sangyu flipped through the book in his hand, whose thickness kept changing, a hint of envy flashing in his eyes:
"Ah... such a good kid, yet chosen by the god of gamblers."
After a long silence, Mo Sangyu nodded:
"Yes, you have survived. You won't be punished by the system anymore. From now on, unless your luck is terribly bad, you will hardly face challenges that are too difficult for your abilities. Congratulations."
After uttering these words, Mo Sangyu sighed again:
"Why does that boy have to be a Mutator…"
Mo Sangyu was rather depressed.
In countless transfer stations, the other seven intermediaries of the nine deities were also depressed—
Why did such an excellent kid have to be a Mutator?
That damn Mutator.