George leaned back in his seat, practically lying down. He stretched his arms out towards the ceiling with his fingers interlocked, palms facing up. He pushed, stretching his fingers, feeling the soreness leaving his palms. When he was done, he sat upright and glanced to the side. His four teammates were doing their pregame rituals as well. They were Thee Fine, the top team in Game of Gods. Their coach usually never let them play any games online, arranging matches against retired professionals instead. However, today, they were free to do whatever they wanted, and what better way to celebrate their day off than to relax and stomp on some noobs?

The queue popped quickly, and after the banning phase, George selected his favorite champion. The other team was ranked pretty highly, but the champions they had chose were quite outdated. George imagined if his grandpa played the game, he’d select the same champions as the opponent. They were boring champions, absolutely nothing flashy about them. Most people played gods that could carry the team on their backs because they didn’t trust their teammates, but this team was clearly synergistic. Were they facing a professional team also on their day off?

George raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t think anymore about it. However, when the loading screen appeared, he could see the names of the people on the enemy team. His eyes widened, and he drew his head back. “This Granddaddy is Going to Kick All Your Asses and Roast Them in a BBQ Oven?”

Fred, the teammate sitting next to George, chuckled. “Maybe it’s one guy playing five accounts at once. I heard some cultivators do that to practice their thought-splitting techniques.”

George snorted. Someone who was playing the game for cultivation, could they compare to someone who played the game for a living? This was his job, his very life and soul! If there was a path to heaven that could be achieved through gaming, he was well on his way on it! A cultivator had to absorb spiritual energy, manage their condition, focus on mastering techniques. If they wanted to play games, then it was just a side project. Even though cultivators’ brains were faster and stronger, there was no way a professional gamer would lose—not to mention, everyone on Team Thee Fine were cultivators as well! They might’ve achieved their current stages by consuming elixirs, but that didn’t matter. The processing power was still the same.

The game started, and George clicked on the little map in the corner of the screen. Even though his teammates were sitting right next to him, he still found it easier to communicate via the game interface. When helping someone look for something, how could words describing the object’s location possibly be faster than pointing at it? With that one click, his teammates instantly understood what he wanted to do. Even if they were five different people, their communication and teamwork definitely wouldn’t be worse than This Granddaddy is Going to Kick All Your Asses and Roast Them in a BBQ Oven’s!

With the help of his teammates, George easily stole his opponent’s buff-giving monster. On his way back to his own side of the map, someone shouted, “Shit!” causing him to flinch. He glanced at the little map in the corner and saw five circular icons surrounding Fred’s. Like a man with a broken arm wandering through a dark alley at night, he was instantly defeated by the five bullies who jumped him. Why the hell were all five of them there!? Five lines of text instantly appeared in the chat box.

This Granddaddy is: “LOL, noob.”

Going to Kick All: “Get good.”

Your Asses and: “Is the ground tasty? It must be. Why else are you eating it?”

Roast them in: “Ten four, the noob is on the floor.”

a BBQ Oven: “Your mother is fat.”

Fred nearly lost his shit, barely restraining himself from picking his keyboard up and throwing it across the room. Who the hell trash-talked in this high of a rank!? Besides, one of the insults wasn’t even related to what happened! If all five of them were the same person, why did they all have to type their own insults? Wasn’t one insult enough? However, as a professional, he had great control over his emotions. He took in a deep breath and clicked on the respawn button. He might be a little behind, but his opponents were also out of place. They’d take a few seconds to get where they needed to be, giving his teammates a chance to pull ahead.

The game continued in a mostly uneventful manner. George checked on the amount of gold he had collected. With one more monster from the forest, he’d obtain enough gold to buy the next item he needed to improve his god’s strength. As he approached, something unexpected jumped out of the bush! Why were there two enemies on his side of the map!? Not even a second later, there was a ping on the map indicating danger. No shit, there was danger! George did his best to escape, but it wasn’t long before his character passed away.

This Granddaddy is: “I’ve crossed many a mountain and many a river.”

a BBQ Oven: “To kick your ass. My favorite food is goose liver.”

Veins bulged on George’s forehead. Were those two lines supposed to be a poem? Could it at least make sense? No wonder why the coach always made them play against other professionals. The official servers were unbelievably toxic. If a player in this rank was trash talking, then it was obvious the people at the lower ranks, the ones who idolized those in this rank, were even worse. George took in a deep breath. Now, he was in a tricky position. Should he wait for the gold to buy the item he wanted, or should he forgo the item and help his teammates win against their opponents in lane?

“Focus, guys,” Lance said. “We can’t let this amateur walk all over us.”

***

Grandpa Vremya sat with his arms folded across his chest, a frown plastered on his face. Was he playing against robots or something? No matter how he provoked his opponents, they refused to reply. However, it was just a matter of time until he won the game. As long as he didn’t make any mistakes, which he never did, his lead was impossible for the other team to overcome. With this win, his five accounts would be ranked in the first-to-fifth slots on the official leaderboard. His time playing Game of Gods would finally be over, and just in time too. Rachel had successfully advanced, becoming a false immortal.

With Rachel’s new cultivation base and the federation’s lack of a false immortal, it was only natural for the Moon Lotus Sect to step forward and claim the driver’s seat of the federation. As for how they’d do it, Azalea and the rest of the elders were drafting a plan. Although the scale of the intergalactic society was much larger than what they were used to, the Moon Lotus Sect had a lot of experience forcing others to become their subordinates. With a few modifications, it wouldn’t be too hard to develop a proper plan. Even though the plan wasn’t finalized, they had requested for Grandpa Vremya to make over a hundred battlesuit golems.

Grandpa Vremya stroked his beard, watching as the five gods on his team ruthlessly surrounded two enemy gods, killing them without even giving them a chance to fight back. Of course, trash talk flooded the chat box at the same time as their deaths. After mastering this game, it wouldn’t be too long before his nascent soul was capable of developing a domineering soul seed. Of course, he’d still have to gather enough spiritual energy for that to happen first. His goal was nearly within his grasp. It felt like he had spent several lifetimes down here in the lower dimension, but at the same time, it didn’t feel like much time had passed at all.