Chapter 016: Taboos of Visiting Shops

At that very moment, every electronic device across the nation with the “National Super Broadcast” app installed began to stream Xiao Wangyan’s video live. Even devices and screens that hadn’t downloaded the app started to download it automatically, or began relaying the broadcast through other applications. It was an unprecedented streaming incident, with a scope so vast it defied belief.

While the entire country reeled in shock, Xiao Wangyan’s stream continued.

He was seated in a Gothic-style restaurant. Xiao Wangyan sat upright at the head of a long dining table, cold, dim iron bars looming behind him. Though a magnificent, multicolored chandelier dangled overhead, the light was still gloomy. Purple-red sofas lined the room, vivid oil paintings adorned the walls, yet every piece of furniture seemed to glow with a cold, metallic sheen.

On the long table were exquisite glasses and tableware. Only Xiao Wangyan’s wineglass held a shallow pool of red wine; the rest were empty.

He swirled his glass with a savage grin, stared at the camera, and went on:

“Hahahaha, you all love those restaurant-review streamers, don’t you? The place I'm showing you today isn’t somewhere most of you could ever hope to reach in your lifetimes.

Of course, if you’re lucky enough to find it, I’ll treat you to a feast you’ll never forget—perhaps your last supper.

Take a good look, you fools, and the fools all around you. You toil away like ants every day, never seeing the strings that control you puppets, forever slaves to fate.

You pour your hopes and dreams into short videos that drain your lives away, into the lavish banquets of streamers, envying them madly, liking their content as if their food could fill your empty stomachs...

But what you don’t know—or know but are powerless to change—is this: they profit off your attention, trading your time for their money, and still you comfort and deceive yourselves...

You convince yourselves these videos help you relax, expand your knowledge, or warn you of dangers...

Hahahaha... utterly foolish.

To be honest, maybe you’ve realized—I simply envy those streamers, to the point of madness.

Why is it that I spent my youth striving to enter university, only to scramble for tuition because of poverty, while they just eat and chat and get countless likes, massive income, and restaurants begging for their reviews?

It’s not fair. In my eyes, this industry is theft, pure and simple—the most shameless of acts!

And why should I slave away delivering food? Why should I humiliate myself, peddling snacks in dorms? Why should I exhaust myself grinding games for others’ accounts? Why do they get paid just to eat?

These wretched people—how is this just...”

At this, Wu Miaoran sneered, “This guy’s really gone mad. If he thinks it’s so easy, he could just become a streamer himself—no one’s stopping him. People like this are just sour, always blaming the industry, when really, they’re the ones ruining it.”

Lin Yu, however, frowned. “Forget all that for now. Something’s seriously wrong with this guy—he’s probably under the control of a nuclear parasite.

Hurry, get in touch with Xiaoyu. Have him use big data to track the location, and let’s get there fast. With him this unhinged, he’s up to more than just streaming. Who knows what madness he’ll unleash!”

The broadcast carried on. Xiao Wangyan downed his wine in one gulp, then smashed the bottle to the ground, thrust his face into the camera, and snarled:

“You’ll say, if you think this job pays well, why not do it yourself? No one’s stopping you!

But you self-righteous idiots, you’re infuriating.

I’m an educated man. How could I stoop to such petty, disgraceful work? These shameless streamers! Shamelessly reviewing restaurants—it’s disgusting!

I loathe this industry. I loathe all you streamers. You deserve to die!

If not for you, I wouldn’t be cursed, my three best friends wouldn’t have died because of me, and I wouldn’t have fallen into this abyss.

Hahahahaha... but maybe I should thank you.

You hurled me into the abyss, now I’ll set the world aflame with the fire I found there.

You’ve surely seen the news already. My three roommates died strange and horrible deaths, didn’t they?

Do you know why? Today, I’ll reveal the answer.

Because I now possess an unbelievable power:

Everything I say comes true.

By accident, I cursed a roommate: ‘May your head get sliced by an airplane wing.’ He actually went to get sliced by one. I said the third must have swapped brains with a pig—he really did. And the fourth, with just a word from me, twisted his own head off.

Hahahahaha... delightful, isn’t it?

Now, anyone who hears my words obeys them. That’s how I’m here, live before you all, effortlessly.

This is fate’s choice. Fate chose me to rule you.

But you needn’t panic. Though I could kill you all with a word, I won’t. There’s no need.

I’m not a butcher or a brute. I am a god—a merciful god, wise, learned, omnipotent, here to save you all.

You mortals, addicted to shallow entertainment—I understand...

You love these depraved streamers—I can forgive that, too.

But the world of food review streaming is chaos. It’s time for rules.

I will lay down three taboos for all food reviewers. Break them, and you’ll suffer terrible punishment.

Of course, you’re free to doubt me, to ignore me. Soon you’ll see—your opinions mean nothing to me.”

He then declared his three taboos for food reviewers.

At that moment, every food streamer was cursing him, and all viewers scoffed, thinking he was just a braggart sure to be caught soon.

Qin Qisan looked at the big screen with contempt. “Impossible. No parasite could give him that kind of power—he’d be a god.”

“Right. There must be some limitation,” Lin Yu agreed.

Just then, having announced his three taboos, Xiao Wangyan flashed a sinister smile and intoned:

“Food reviewers, remember these three taboos, lest you meet needless trouble. I won’t waste more time here—I have more interesting business elsewhere. Farewell, everyone!”

He licked his lips, then called out in a chilling voice, “From this moment on, let everyone forget everything about me!”

With those words, his voice and image vanished. Everyone who had seen or heard the stream felt as if their brains had been struck by a heavy blow.

A moment later, their eyeballs swelled painfully, nearly bursting from their sockets. Writhing in agony, clutching their heads, they lost consciousness.

It lasted only a minute.

When they awoke, everything seemed normal, as if nothing had happened.

More terrifying still, no one remembered what had transpired, and not a single electronic device retained any audio or video record of the broadcast.

Xiao Wangyan’s words came true—everyone forgot his existence.

All that remained was a vague recollection of a brief spell of dizziness that day, quickly dismissed.

Though it was bizarre, the sheer number affected made it a collective hallucination, and few gave it any thought.

A handful, for various reasons, did retain fragments of memory.

But they were too few. No one believed them, and their accounts caused no stir on any social platform. After all, the tale was simply too incredible.

Yet from that day on, rumors of the streamers’ taboos spread.

Food reviewers who unwittingly broke them suffered horrifying retribution...