[05:30 AM, The 13th Street]

  When the first rays of sunlight pierced the thin smog and sprinkled onto this reborn wreckage, John Doe was pushing a creaking garbage cart, sneaking out the back door of the "Room of Requirement."

  He was wearing gray overalls stained with paint and lime, a tattered cap pulled low over his eyes, and two deliberate smears of coal dust on his face. Right now, he looked just like any other cleaner in this district, grinding from dawn till dusk for a few copper coins.

  "Hey! You, the sweeper! Move it!"

  A few fanatical believers were clutching flowers and fruits, squeezing their way toward the clinic's entrance. They didn't even spare John a glance as they shoved him into a roadside puddle.

  "I heard Master John manifested a miracle last night! Someone saw a golden light shoot out from the roof!"

  "Really? I need to hurry and ask for a Peace Talisman!"

  John climbed out of the puddle, patting the muddy water off his clothes. A helpless, ironic smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

  Is this the effect of 'God-making'?

  So much so that when the real John stood right in front of them, no one recognized him.

  "Not necessarily a bad thing," John muttered to himself, pushing the cart forward. "At least I don't have to put on airs all the time, or worry about being mobbed."

  He even felt that being invisible was more liberating than being a hero.

  [The Room of Requirement · Open for Business]

  A long queue had already formed outside the clinic. Bone stood at the door wearing that suit—washed clean, slightly shrunken, but still sharp—acting like a true British butler.

  "Please line up. No pushing. Sincerity makes it work; cutting in line makes it fail."

  While maintaining order, Bone skillfully pulled out electronic number plates with QR codes from his jacket and handed them out.

  "Ma'am, your leg pain is rheumatism, not a curse. I suggest you go to the charity zone over there and ask Dr. Hua Tuo (Holographic Edition) for a prescription."

  "Sir, looking to get rich? Turn left and find the Goblin Chamber of Commerce; they're recruiting agents. We don't distribute wealth here, only kindness."

  Bone was handling things with increasing ease. He had even learned to refuse unreasonable requests with a polite tone that saved face while leaving no room for argument.

  Meanwhile, in the backend, Grace's data system was running at high speed.

  "Today's visitors: 352. Valid Wish Power collected: 1,200 points."

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  "User Profile Analysis: 70% seeking medical help, 20% seeking jobs, 10% just here for the hype."

  "Precision Push Activated: Sent Goblin construction site recruitment info to those young men genuinely looking for work; sent community mutual aid group contacts to the elderly living alone."

  Grace wasn't just customer service; she was weaving a web.

  A web that tightly connected supply and demand, wishes and reality.

  In this system, everyone could find their place, and every act of kindness received a response. This was no longer just a wishing well; it was a highly efficient community service hub.

  Assembly line. Platformization. Data-fication.

  Watching from afar, John had to admire Daoist Singularity's business acumen.

  Once this model was running smoothly, Merit Points would flow in like water. Although it was only a few thousand points a day—far from the two million debt—it was a steady stream. A stable cash flow.

  Most importantly, this money meant he finally didn't have to worry about tomorrow's meal.

  [Clinic 2nd Floor · Bedroom]

  Margaret sat in her wheelchair, looking out the window at the bustling scene below. Her complexion was good, and she held a half-finished sweater in her hands, the stitches tight and warm.

  "Mom, time for medicine."

  John walked in carrying a bowl of hot soup.

  "John, look how lively it is downstairs." Margaret pointed outside. "Everyone says you're a Living Bodhisattva. But... why do I feel like... you're becoming less like yourself?"

  "Mom, that's just a show for the outsiders." John squatted beside her, resting his head on her knees. "In front of you, I'll always be your silly, hemophobic son."

  Margaret smiled and stroked his head.

  "Silly child. Mom doesn't need you to be a god, or to make a fortune. Mom just wants you to be safe."

  "I will be."

  John held his mother's hand.

  He knew that now, he finally had the power to protect her.

  That halo of the "Living Bodhisattva," while a trap, was also the best protective camouflage. The Guild dared not touch him in broad daylight, nor dared they touch his family. Because if the "God's" mother were harmed, the backlash from that collapsed faith was something even the Guild couldn't withstand.

  Fame became a talisman.

  The small shop became a treasure bowl.

  The "survival dead loop" that had once driven him to desperation had finally been breached.

  "Mom, when this blows over, I'll take you to the Upper Sector," John said softly. "I heard the Cloud Gardens there are beautiful. No smog. You can see real stars."

  "That sounds nice." A look of longing flashed in Margaret's eyes. "We'll go together. Take Bone, take that little girl, and the big turtle."

  [Above the Ruins · Sunrise]

  John left the clinic and climbed alone to the highest point of the 13th Street ruins—the clock tower that had been blown in half.

  He sat on a broken beam, watching the eastern sky.

  The sun was rising.

  Although obscured by heavy industrial smoke, making the light appear turbid, it was still light.

  It illuminated the houses being rebuilt, the busy goblins and humans, and this neighborhood that was once called a "Dead Zone."

  "We survived."

  John pulled out the black card from his chest pocket, then looked at the debt number on his iPad. It was still negative, but slowly decreasing.

  He felt neither ecstasy nor sorrow.

  Only the calm that comes after surviving death.

  "This is just the beginning."

  John stood up and dusted off his pants.

  He looked toward the distance, at the Eternal Tower, still soaring into the clouds, seemingly unshakable.

  Moriarty lived there. Mordred lived there. The gods who set the rules and toyed with human hearts lived there.

  They were still watching him.

  They were still waiting for him to make a mistake, waiting for him to fall from the altar.

  Want a show?

  A cold sneer curled at the corner of John's mouth.

  Then I'll give you a show.

  But next time, I won't be the only one performing on stage.

  I'm going to burn this fire all the way to your feet.

  It's just debt, right? If I kill the creditor (The Guild), the debt is cleared.

  John turned around, back to the sun, and strode down the ruins.

  His shadow stretched long against the rubble, looking like a sword about to be unsheathed.

  (Volume 2: Counterattack and Awakening — END)