The End of the Universe Is Live-Streaming E-commerce – CH20

Chapter 20: The 20th Day of Livestream Selling

Where the fried chicken shop in Farlris was, Lin Zhao did not know. In any case, his fried chicken was already waiting outside the door.

It was Jiangzuo fried chicken, the most delicious fried chicken in the whole world.

1114 had ordered takeout while Lin Zhao was livestreaming his reading. Based on its understanding of Lin Zhao, by the time he read halfway through that practice work of his, he would definitely want to eat.

And that was indeed exactly what happened.

To be fair, ever since he got 1114, this “intelligent voice assistant,” Lin Zhao’s salted-fish life had become perfectly golden and crispy on both sides. Whether he flipped over or not, it was all the same. No wonder he did not want to step out of his comfort zone.

Along with the rustling sound of takeout packaging being opened, a screen full of dazzling static appeared before the dark elf Arland’s eyes, suddenly and rudely smashing itself into the air above the pharmacist’s table he had spent an enormous sum to custom-make.

At first, the light screen contained only gray-white particles flickering and drifting without pattern, like a constantly jumping storm glass. Then, bright yet distorted color blocks gradually began to appear, blending with a high-frequency, rough rustling sound, until finally, a stable and clear image formed.

If Lin Zhao had seen this scene, he would probably have had a more accurate description: an old-fashioned television going from a standby static screen to finally being able to receive a program.

Unfortunately, Lin Zhao could not see it. And Arland, who lived in a Western fantasy world, only thought this was a magic water screen, a kind of scouting magic he often used to check the outside world. It was just that his magic allowed him to see the outside, while the other party’s magic seemed to let others see him.

Lord Arland let out a disdainful sneer. He did not know what was wrong with the person behind the curtain, but since that person had already revealed their fox tail, then he would definitely—

Before Arland could catch the scouting eye that was inevitably used together with a magic water screen, he first keenly heard a loud commotion outside the mage tower.

This dark elf, who had always had little patience, immediately sent a magical message to the captain of the guards he had brought from his clan. The tall warrior with white hair and black skin appeared in response on the other end of the magic. But there was already no need for him to explain anything. Through the magical message, Arland directly saw the answer he wanted.

A group of people from the Church of Light were kneeling below the tower like wheat waves flattened by a violent wind.

Among them, there was even an archbishop in a red robe. His attendant had originally wanted to help him up, but he stubbornly pushed him away, only kneeling beneath the light in the humblest posture.

Arland: “?”

Sick?

The subordinate wearing a wild earring adjusted the angle of the magical message, helping his Highness see what had happened to the spire he regarded as the tower of arcane arts and secret knowledge.

At this moment, a sacred, unquestionable pillar of blazing white light was shooting into the sky from there. It was like a long sword cutting open the firmament, piercing straight from the tower spire into the clouds, dyeing the night that had somehow fallen outside into a brilliant, trembling gold.

It was the scene of divine revelation described only in The Goddess of Light Says.

At first, everyone outside the tower was stunned into a vacuum-like silence by this sudden light. Until, among the priests who had been persistently waiting for the blessed one’s summons, someone shouted out loud:

“Divine revelation! It is divine revelation!”

That cry was like sparks bursting apart, instantly igniting the surging waves of sound around them. Today, after everything related to the gods had vanished for many years, they had finally heard the voice of a god once again.

With Arland’s mage tower as the center of amplification, everyone within a dozen meters outside clearly heard that… warm voice reciting fried chicken.

Who would treat a fried chicken recipe as divine revelation?

The Church of Light would.

Especially after the cardinal heard from Priest Ryan and the others that, before the divine revelation arrived, the last thing they had been discussing was whether to pray to the God of Gourmet Food. Did that not match perfectly?!

What exactly matched? Arland really wanted to ask.

But after the image appeared before his eyes, the outside could no longer hear the sound. Only that golden light, bright enough to nearly blind people, remained, like an antenna connecting to something.

And the truth was indeed exactly that.

1114 had told Lin Zhao that when connecting to the third region, it had encountered some barrier obstructions. But that did not matter. It had found a “connection path” left behind by someone else. It was not certain who that someone else was, nor was it certain whether it was a livestream channel. It could only confirm that although the path had fallen into disrepair after many years, it could still barely be put to use after some patching. It only needed more than half an hour of continuous operation to stabilize the channel.

The light at the tower spire continued to emit blazing radiance, dignified and silent.

Of course, when Arland looked at the screen in the potion room, he understood that this was not a miracle. It was only a pretty young man of unknown race, though judging by appearance, probably human…

Eating fried chicken.

At this moment, on Lin Zhao’s table, there was not only fried chicken, but also fries, hamburgers, and cola. 1114 understood its host very well. It had not only ordered Jiangzuo fried chicken, but also KFC, because today was Crazy Thursday. Not taking advantage of that really would feel like a loss.

After Lin Zhao finished this late-night snack that greatly comforted his entire spirit, the livestream duration had not only been enough, but had even exceeded the required time. So he naturally went to turn it off, with no intention whatsoever of interacting with the audience.

This had already been his consistent livestreaming state ever since he “entered the profession.” Only when answering questions from customers buying goods did he seem to remember that he could talk to viewers.

Of course, the reason he was so absolute this time was also because Lin Zhao completely did not think this livestream would have any viewers.

After all, the livestream content was reading food writing. He had not let 1114 open the livestream to other regions. After all, reading this to a war-torn region where people could not even eat their fill would be a little too hellish.

After turning off the livestream, Lin Zhao thought today’s overtime had ended. In the end…

1114 suddenly said in panic, “What do we do, host? S-someone placed an order.”

“If there’s an order, then ship it. No, wait, what order?”

They clearly had not listed anything from the little supermarket at all. That side had really already been bought empty by Gray, and now every day they were in the middle of absolutely intense shipping, “packing yours, packing his.” Where did this order come from?

1114 fell into a strange silence. Only after quite a while did it say, “Do you remember what we did back when we were muddling along—cough, I mean, back when we were still an unpolished gemstone?”

Casually spouting nonsense, livestreaming irregularly three days fishing and two days drying nets, and using the group-buy links 1114 found on the e-commerce livestream app to fool his aunt, who might make a surprise inspection at any moment…

“You mean those links are still there?”

1114 nodded sorrowfully. “Somehow they got pushed up. They clearly weren’t there before.”

“Someone from the third region placed an order?”

Lin Zhao clearly remembered the backend showing only two viewers or a few viewers at the time. The fact that the other party had stayed the whole time had already made him extremely puzzled. What did it mean that they followed up by placing an order?

Of course, it meant they were truly hungry.

Lord Arland sat in his potion room with his arms crossed, his face full of displeasure, waiting for his portion of fried chicken. He did not care about the flood outside the tower. He only wanted to take responsibility for his growling stomach.

Honestly, for someone who claimed to have no interest in delicious food, this was a little embarrassing.

But this was the benefit of liking to squat alone in a high tower to do magical research. Only he knew about his embarrassment, which meant it counted as no embarrassment.

The dark elf prince thought with complete confidence: the only ones who cared about face were those orthodox elves marinated in “how improper.” What did that have to do with us dark elves?

Arland wanted to eat.

So Arland would get it.

Blue Star group-buying could not possibly cover Farlris. Lin Zhao really wanted to play rogue like that. But business was all about integrity. After letting out a long sigh, he still privately messaged this customer, who this time called himself “Dark Elf Prince Arland,” asked him for a QR-code screenshot, ordered everything the other party had bought to his own home, and then had the system carry out long-distance transmission.

1114 flew at the side with tears in its eyes, so moved it practically wanted to dedicate its liver and brain to its host.

And its good-looking but cold-faced host only said, “Give me something you have.”

About forty minutes later, His Highness Arland indeed received what he wanted: Jiangzuo fried chicken that appeared out of thin air and smelled wonderfully fragrant.

Arland Neltherlain, a potion master capable of distinguishing at least three hundred subtle stage changes of potions inside a cauldron, had never expected that such a soul-piercing smell could truly exist in this world.

It was not elegant, nor was it noble, but it could simply and brutally interrupt every scent spectrum he originally had. It was powerful and domineering, even worse than his tyrannical, foul-tempered mother empress.

But…

She would also stand before him when danger came and say to him, “Hurry up and get lost. I don’t have time to play refusal games with you.”

What made His Highness Arland’s pupils shrink even more was that this incredible delicacy had only been exchanged for the pile of failed potion-residue crystals casually sitting on his table.

When he realized that the “water screen” could really be used to place orders for fried chicken, and that things could be exchanged for it, His Highness Arland, who had never feared speculating about this world with the greatest malice, also kept a card up his sleeve. Who knew whether this was some low-level joke? It was not worth risking the priceless collections in his spatial ring.

Thus, his gaze fell on that pile of residue crystals.

These crystals contained extremely chaotic yet powerful magical energy. To dark elves, they were garbage, but to certain research maniacs or black-market merchants, they might have unknown value.

In fact, these crystals did receive a decent valuation. At least, it was enough for Arland to buy every food item on the links that interested him once.

This was also his first time coming into contact with this kind of shopping method. He was very unfamiliar with it, and after fumbling with the process for a long time, he finally succeeded.

But the transaction was at last completed.

And now, the thing he wanted had appeared in his hands.

Naturally vigilant, Lord Arland did not immediately begin eating. First, as though facing a great enemy, he used at least fifteen spells for detecting curses, toxins, and evil god auras to scan the fried chicken’s insulated bag inside and out three times.

Conclusion: no magical fluctuations, no trace of curses, no known lethal toxins. Only strong, pure, material-level scent molecules and heat.

“From the perspective of potion studies, this is merely a bag of low-quality fried mixture that has not been purified, contains excessive impurities, and has extremely low energy utilization efficiency. Its only value may be as negative teaching material for ‘how to ruin ingredients.’”

But that domineering smell continued to coil around him.

As the insulated takeout bag was opened, hot steam rose, and the aroma of twice-fried crispness mixed with oil and appetite-stimulating savory fragrance unreasonably drilled straight into Arland’s sensitive nasal cavity. That mouthwatering smell became even more tempting.

His body, which was often perfunctorily dealt with using potions, issued its second protest of the day—the first time had been rejecting whatever berry jelly Priest Ryan had brought, but this time, it was toward that box of “low-quality fried mixture.”

This was unreasonable!

Lord Arland irritably picked up the slightly burning-hot fried chicken with his hand, his movements extremely stiff and inexperienced. In his entire life, he had never imagined that one day he would dine in such an improper manner.

But he still did his best to imitate the fair-skinned young man in the image, hesitantly bringing the crispy-looking fried chicken to his lips.

In his heart, he thought: Just one bite. For the sake of analyzing its texture data and taste-deception mechanism…

In an instant—

Hot!

It was not the burn of magical flames, but pure, physical heat.

Savory!

It was meat juice bursting in his mouth. The edges still carried crystalline oil, and several flavors rose in rebellion on his taste buds at the same time like insurgents, overthrowing the taste dynasty shaped by two hundred years of bland elven cuisine inside him.

In the long life of the long-lived Lord Arland, he had never experienced such a straightforward, violent, yet terrifyingly complex and exquisite sensory impact.

The elven dietary structure always pursued health, nature, and nutritional value. But this box of fried chicken pursued instant satisfaction, sensory overload, and pure hedonism.

He found that he simply could not control himself as he took a second bite, a third bite… and his speed grew faster and faster. He even learned, without any teacher, to suck his fingers.

Suck his fingers!

Heavens. If his court etiquette officer saw him behave so improperly, they would certainly let out a shrill explosion from the depths of their soul.

But the box of fried chicken had already reached the bottom, and there was not even much breading left.

The prince, meticulously raised by the entire dark elf race for many years, finally put down the cheap paper box in his hand. Looking at the box bottom that almost did not need to be cleaned, he fell silent for a full minute.

Then, he lifted his head. In his blood-red vertical pupils surged unprecedented intense emotions—shock, confusion, and anger at having been conquered.

He did not want to admit that he had yielded so easily, but that night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep until dawn, with only one thought left in his mind…

Would that person come again tomorrow?

The answer was no.

Lin Zhao rested.

As a corporate slave who had actually taken the initiative to work unpaid overtime, he felt that he had been dirtied, no longer clean. He would use at least the next half month to heal from that half hour of this night.

Author’s Note:

Nonsense Mini Theater:

Lord Arland: Taking ten thousand steps back, must something longed for but unobtainable only be a white moonlight?

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