Solve noise problems!

After confirming his absurd situation, An Ran, or rather, Xilofei,

decided to assess his current circumstances.

He is now the sole designated legal representative and chief mascot of a company called "Aridolia Human Empire Faith Co., Ltd." The company's "registered capital" is the glorious history of the empire spanning over three thousand years, which amounts to roughly 1.4 billion. The company's "active users" or "daily active customers" also number 1.4 billion.

In his previous life, this was merely a distant and vast statistical figure—a string of cold zeros he had typed into a PowerPoint presentation while conducting market analysis.

Although An Ran could currently only receive clear information about this city due to the outdated receiver,

Other information is fragmented and completely inaccessible. 

However, the information from the city alone is already overwhelming him, 

what a terrifying experience! 

Imagine you are an online customer service representative, but your WeChat Work or DingTalk receives "Are you there?" messages from hundreds of thousands or even millions of different customers at the same time, with content as varied as can be.

Your brain is that poor server, 

with no off-hours, no weekends, and no public holidays. 

The work here is damn 7x24 hours a year, non-stop. 

These customers' needs are far more complex than "Dear, is shipping free?" 

Super slave!

"Holy Lady, please prevent Old Wang's wife from giving birth to a son!" a vengeful voice screamed, 

"Oh, merciful Holy Lady, please grant me a healthy heir!" another voice pleaded with anticipation almost simultaneously. 

"Damn drought! Hylophi, if you don't send rain soon, my wheat will all die!" An old farmer uttered a prayer that was almost a roar. 

"Please don't rain, Holy Maiden! Tomorrow is my daughter's wedding day; please grant us a sunny day!" A wealthy merchant in the city offered a gold coin in his lavish prayer room. 

Praises and curses flew together, blessings and resentments blended as one.

It turns out that people can smile when they are speechless. 

But he was no longer human and could no longer smile. 

Countless contradictory and opposing desires, like countless intertwined venomous snakes, created a mental cacophony in his consciousness. This was no longer simply "work-related stress." 

It was a continuous, high-intensity mental torture.

Anran's once-proud, socially hardened ability to withstand pressure crumbles like a potato chip exposed to a tsunami under the "saturation attack" of these believers.

He felt his consciousness, like a piece of gum being stretched endlessly, gradually losing its elasticity and becoming thinner and thinner. Even Xuanmai couldn't withstand this! By then, perhaps the "Saintess Hylophia Celestia" would still exist, but his own soul, which had traveled through time and was independent, would be completely erased, leaving no trace. No. 

Absolutely not!

A fierce will to survive, like a beast cornered at the edge of a cliff, roared its final cry deep within his consciousness. In his previous life, he had already "died" once for work.

In this life, he absolutely could not let himself be consumed by this forced "slave labor"!

He must find a way. 

He must build himself a "safe house," a mental "soundproof room," in this vast ocean of spiritual noise. Soon, Anran began to resist. 

At first, he tried to use his meager willpower to "block out" all the sounds.

Anran imagined his consciousness as an indestructible soundproof box, blocking out all sounds. 

However, this idea was naively absurd. 

His willpower was minuscule compared to the flood of faith gathered by the believers within the city. 

It felt like trying to block a Category 12 hurricane with a sheet of window paper.

Almost the moment he raised the thought of "blocking," that fragile "lead box" was shattered into pieces. What was even more terrifying was that this head-on confrontation triggered an even stronger backlash, making him feel as though his consciousness was about to be directly torn apart. Blocking it head-on was not feasible.

Anran quickly reached this conclusion.

Then, change the approach.

Since he couldn't stop the influx of information, could he "process" it instead? He recalled how his IT department colleagues in his previous life handled spam emails. 

They didn't block every incoming email but instead established a complex filtering system based on rules like "keywords," "sender level," and "task priority." 

Most useless spam emails were automatically sent to the recycle bin. 

Ordinary information was archived.

Only those marked as "urgent" and "important" were pushed to the top of the user's inbox. 

Yes, that's it! 

Filtering! 

He didn't need to hear every single prayer from everyone, 

he just needed to build a mental "firewall" and "information filter" for himself! 

This idea struck him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating his dark prison. 

He immediately began to act.

This was undoubtedly a massive undertaking, no less challenging than writing an operating system from scratch in his own mind. He contracted his core consciousness. 

Then he attempted to separate different "data streams" from the chaotic noise. The first step was to set "priorities." 

These were the voices that were most intense, most sincere, and most resonant with him.

For example, the mother praying for her daughter—her despair and maternal love were like an "S-level emergency" in the system, automatically jumping to the forefront. 

Then came the lowest-priority information! 

For instance, the ritualized prayers recited by certain priests in the temple thousands of times a day, which had become muscle memory. These sounds accounted for the vast majority of the noise but were the least "nutritious." They should be marked as "junk information" and directly blocked. 

It sounds easy, but it's as difficult as climbing a mountain. 

Every attempt requires him to expend immense mental energy. 

He is like a novice programmer, clumsily typing line after line of "code" in his consciousness, starting with "Hello, World."

"Rule One: Any repetitive prayers containing honorifics like 'Holy Maiden' or 'Hirofi' but with meaningless content afterward should be filed under 'Read.' 

"Rule Two: Create a keyword list, such as 'war,' 'disaster,' 'death,' or 'plague,' to prioritize related prayers. 

He doesn't know how many times he's failed.

Sometimes, the rules were too strict, plunging him into "absolute silence," as if the world had abandoned him. Other times, the rules were too lenient, and the noise merely took on a different form, still causing him "excruciating headaches." But Anran did not give up. 

He drew on the spirit of pulling all-nighters to meet deadlines from his previous life, repeatedly fine-tuning his "filtering system" for an unknown duration.

Finally, after one exhausting attempt, he succeeded. 

Home 

A faint humming sound emanated from the depths of his consciousness. 

He felt his chaotic mental world had been thoroughly cleaned by some antivirus software.

The loudest, most meaningless background noises receded like a tide, their volume suppressed to an acceptable level. The sounds he had set as high priority became clear and controllable, no longer overwhelming him but flowing past him like organized streams of information. 

"Finally, it's quiet!"

The world was quiet.

Anran's consciousness curled up in the small "soundproof room" he had built with his own hands, experiencing for the first time a long-lost, almost luxurious sense of peace.