The realization hit Luo Feng like a rogue comet—a sudden, blinding clarity that cut through the cosmic chaos. He didn't need to erase himself. He didn't need to become some all-powerful system administrator.
He just needed to do what any reasonable person would do when faced with incompetent management.
Fire them all.
The System's interface flickered to life at his fingertips, no longer constrained by menus or mission prompts. This was raw, unfiltered access—the kind of power that would have vaporized a lesser being three times over by now. But Luo Feng had spent months training for this exact moment, whether he knew it or not. Every absurd mission, every glitched check-in, every time the System had trolled him—it had all led here.
He navigated past the cosmic firewall (password: password123) and pulled up the Pantheon's employee records. The list scrolled endlessly—gods of war, love, storms, and petty grudges, each with their own overinflated job title and a staggering number of unclaimed vacation days.
With a swipe of his hand, he selected ALL.
Then he hit REVOKE DIVINITY LICENSE.
The effect was instantaneous—and deeply satisfying.
The War God's armor clattered to the ground as his muscles atrophied into something resembling a middle-aged accountant's. The Goddess of Wisdom's all-knowing aura flickered out like a bad Wi-Fi signal, leaving her squinting at her own hands in confusion. The Sky Father's majestic beard unraveled strand by strand, revealing a very sunburned, very mortal chin underneath.
The Void Emperor's cursor spasmed wildly, flashing between [ACCESS DENIED] and [PLEASE INSERT ADMIN CREDENTIALS] before finally dissolving into pixelated dust. His throne room's elegant void aesthetic glitched into something resembling a badly maintained public library.
The Death Queen clapped her hands together. "Darling, you've invented atheism with style."
Li Qing nodded approvingly as a former god of winter tried and failed to summon a snowflake. "Efficient."
The Fox Spirit, of course, was already handing out "PINK SLIP OF THE APOCALYPSE" certificates to the newly mortal deities.
Somewhere in the cosmic HR department, a plush demon stamped TERMINATED across the universe's payroll records with gleeful finality.
END OF CHAPTER 96