Ch 133: My Multiverse Supermarket

Under countless stunned gazes, Zhou Li finished handing over the first batch of equipment to the Thorn Consortium.

When she returned to the supermarket, customers finally began to arrive to register for memberships.

Zhou Li said to the system, “People in this world are quite polite—they even waited until I finished my business before coming in.”

The system: …

They were only afraid that trespassing into a “divine realm” might get them smitten on the spot.

All the customers were new faces, yet they seemed perfectly familiar with the supermarket’s rules. Each brought a different treasure to exchange for store points—testing the waters, as if probing divine boundaries.

After more than a dozen clearly magic-faction customers successfully became members of Good Life Supermarket, the steam faction followed suit.

Because technological goods weren’t valued as highly, Kemeigao had deliberately prepared ten tons of refined mithril ore and ten thousand gold coins.

Zhou Li asked, “You already paid for the refrigerators you ordered last time. What are you planning to buy now?”

Kemeigao’s eyes gleamed. “A protective barrier! One that keeps shadow creatures away!”

Zhou Li: ?

She looked around at the mages nearby. “Shouldn’t you be asking them for that?”

Kemeigao said, “No, their magic can’t compare to your divine barrier.”

Zhou Li said, “Then you’ll be disappointed—I don’t sell barriers.”

The magic faction nodded in agreement. Of course! A divine realm couldn’t possibly rely on something as mundane as a “barrier”!

Kemeigao, unfazed by the setback, soon spotted the self-checkout kiosk. “What’s this? Is it for sale?”

Zhou Li replied, “Even if I sold it, you wouldn’t be able to use it with your current level of technology.”

To operate it, they’d need to connect to the system and have QR-code infrastructure in place.

Kemeigao pressed on, “Then can’t you sell us the technology too?”

Zhou Li wasn’t sure whether the auction house even sold such things, but probably not.

The telephone network devices she’d purchased earlier were early models—patents that had long since expired—so those could be legally traded.

Suddenly, Zhou Li remembered something that might really interest him.

“Are you familiar with internal combustion engines?”

Kemeigao blinked. “Internal… combustion?”

“Yes. Steam engines heat water to produce steam and move pistons. Internal combustion engines burn coal or gasoline directly to generate heat and drive pistons.”

Kemeigao’s eyes widened. “You mean a gas engine!?”

That was exactly the project he’d just begun theorizing—one he hadn’t told anyone about.

How did she know?

Could she truly be a divine being of technology—omniscient and omnipotent?

Thrilled, Kemeigao exclaimed, “Then my hypothesis might be correct!”

Zhou Li: …

And what exactly is your hypothesis?

He enthusiastically explained his concept of the gas engine, inspired by replacing wood with coal in steam power and refining the design further.

Zhou Li said, “…Your idea’s impressive. Keep it up.”

She decided it was better not to interfere with his research.

Then Kemeigao made an unexpected request.

“Would you happen to sell an astronomical telescope, my lady?”

He sounded hesitant. After all, astronomy was far removed from their current level of technology.

Zhou Li looked surprised. “You’re interested in astronomy?”

Kemeigao waved his hands. “No, you misunderstand. I’m an engineer—mechanics and power systems only. The telescope is for a friend of mine, a councilor. His daughter, Henrietta Swan Leavitt, loves to observe the stars. She’ll be turning ten in two months, and I wanted to gift her something special. For a girl who loves the stars, what could be better than a telescope?”

Zhou Li nodded, then froze mid-motion. “Wait—did you say Henrietta Swan Leavitt?”

Kemeigao blinked. “You know her?”

Zhou Li didn’t answer directly. She only smiled. “A telescope, then? No problem.”

Ordinarily, she might not have agreed to such a request—but if the telescope was for Leavitt, she’d make it happen.

Because Henrietta Swan Leavitt—the discoverer of the Leavitt Law—was known on Earth as the Mother of Modern Cosmology.

Of course, that was the Earth version of Leavitt.

Zhou Li didn’t know if the Leavitt of this world would grow into the same kind of visionary, but she was determined to support her.

In the Earth timeline, Leavitt suffered lifelong gender discrimination—never receiving equal pay or a PhD, even on her deathbed.

She was once considered for the Nobel Prize in Physics, but by the time she was nominated by Gösta Mittag-Leffler, the Swedish mathematician learned from the Harvard Observatory director that she had already been dead for three years.

That director even claimed he deserved the honor, since his later work built on her discovery—measuring the scale of the Milky Way and proposing that the solar system lay near its edge.

Zhou Li, living a full century after Leavitt, always felt a pang of regret when reading her story.

Now, having met another Leavitt in another world, Zhou Li wanted to help this one reach even farther.

She immediately submitted a purchase order to the auction house for a high-resolution, professional-grade astronomical telescope.

Such models started at several tens of thousands. Only then did Zhou Li realize she had forgotten to ask about Kemeigao’s budget.

“What price range are you thinking?”

“Ten… no, twenty gold coins,” Kemeigao said confidently.

Zhou Li did a quick conversion—about eight thousand yuan. That would buy nothing more than a child’s toy telescope.

Still, she thought, his heart was in the right place. Spending that much for a child’s gift showed genuine care.

Outside the supermarket, mages from the magic faction who overheard their conversation were fuming red.

Astronomy? Heresy! A blasphemous pseudo-science!

They had just started warming up to Zhou Li, and now all goodwill was gone.

Someone accused her angrily, “You’ve betrayed your divine office and your followers!”

Zhou Li: ?

Where did that come from?

Before she could even ask, the man was dragged away by his companions.

Then a well-dressed noblewoman addressed her. “Some people claim our world is a sphere—not created by the Earth Mother—and that the sun and moon are not divine, but celestial bodies. They say beyond our world lies an entire cosmos. What does your divinity think?”

Zhou Li recognized her—it was Wendisha, the Duchess and Chief Elder.

Ah, Zhou Li thought, so we’re doing the ‘heliocentrism vs divine cosmology’ debate now.

On Earth, that argument was historical—but here, in a world with real magic and confirmed divine beings, the logic might not hold.

Still, Zhou Li had a theory: what if the “gods” of this plane were once mortals who reached transcendent levels through magical cultivation, slowly deified over time?

Just like immortal cultivators—those who reached heights where mortals called them gods. And if gods could continue ascending, they could become the very “heavenly laws” of a plane.

So, recognizing a scientific cosmology didn’t necessarily deny the existence of gods.

But Zhou Li wasn’t here to debate theology. “I don’t think much of it,” she said lightly. “What I do wonder is—why do your two factions have to be enemies? Magic and technology aren’t mutually exclusive. The Waning Era didn’t come because of technology. Technology developed because of the Waning Era. Advancing technology doesn’t erase magic—pretending it does is just self-deception.”

Both the Senate and Kemeigao’s camp had already concluded that this so-called “wild god” or “shopkeeper” was a neutral entity.

Luna was ecstatic. The Thorn Consortium finally wasn’t alone anymore.

Wendisha said, “As a new god presiding over commerce and trade, perhaps you cannot understand the plight of the old gods. When technology rises—when people can fly without magic, sail across oceans without blessings, and heal with medicine instead of miracles—the old gods are abandoned.”

Zhou Li ignored the “new god” remark and focused on the rest.

“I think your worries are unnecessary,” she said. “Light, Life, Wisdom, Nature, Oath, War, Death—no matter the world, these will always exist. Gods don’t fall because of human progress.”

She paused, then added dryly, “Honestly, your gods are just too sensitive. Why must the God of Light only rule the sun? Light bulbs produce light too, don’t they? Just because it’s electric doesn’t mean it’s not light. If it’s light, it’s under the God of Light’s domain. And if people displease Him by using lamps, He can just burn out their filaments. No more light for the disrespectful.”

Everyone: …

That was… heretical!

And yet—oddly persuasive.

“And the Goddess of Wisdom!” Zhou Li continued. “Doesn’t technology require knowledge? Engineers and scientists are clearly under her divine portfolio. They’re her followers whether they know it or not.

“And the Goddess of Nature—sure, nature’s being harmed, but she’s also the goddess of harvest, right? Even the steam faction has to eat. Farming and food production still depend on her blessings.

“As for the new gods—why do their followers thrive? Because they fight for their faith! You sit still and call yourselves devout? That’s just laziness dressed up as piety.”

Someone, dazed by her logic, murmured, “Then what about the Goddess of Oaths? Her domain’s been divided with the Goddess of Order.”

Zhou Li replied, “People swear oaths every day. You really think she’s unemployed? If some oathbreakers go unpunished, it’s probably because there are too many of them for her to keep up.”

“You—!” The nobles of the magic faction were nearly faint with fury.

Even Wendisha couldn’t help but laugh, though she found Zhou Li’s reasoning oddly intriguing.

*

Author’s Note

Boss Zhou: I, the God of Commerce, will now teach you how to be gods. [Noob emoji]

The gods: ???

Note: (1) From Journal of Dialectics of Nature — “Henrietta Leavitt, Discoverer of the Cepheid Period–Luminosity Relation.”

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