Rick and Morty: My Grandfather is Rick?

"It's such a simple thing! Use your own pig brain to think about it!!!"

After receiving a vulgar insult that was practically an insult to pigs, Dream Jerry sat next to Morty and, like a blind man, began to grope around on the helmet.

The outer shell made of sheet metal trash can is easy to disassemble.

But the electronic components below, along with hundreds of wires of various colors, were clearly making things difficult for his dream, Jerry the Loser the Pig-Brain Smith.

"Hmm...this is his dream..."

"What should I do that won't hurt him?"

Faced with a complicated matter, Dream Jerry fully utilized his ability to simplify complex matters, using the simplest method to solve a problem that required holding a Dream Level 1 Engineer certificate.

Ok.

Cut the red thread!

Jerry in his dream world, who was trying to dispose of this thing as a bomb, didn't have any scissors with him and didn't want to walk back to the kitchen to get them, so he just bit it with his teeth.

There are seventeen red wires on the electronic component.

He chose a red line that included both diodes and electronic transformers.

After the insulation of the red wire was bitten through, Jerry's teeth bit into the exposed metal conductor, and he pulled his teeth and neck back.

The wire snapped immediately.

Without the stable current from the wire, the helmet immediately went out of control. Visible current surged from the wire, instantly electrifying Dream Jerry's hair.

Just as Rick from the Dream entered, he stormed out of the garage, brandishing a large machete, looking for a different escape route.

Less than three seconds after entering the room, I realized that the dream was collapsing.

How could he not know that it was that loser Jerry from Dreamland who was behind this!

"what have you been doing!!!"

"You want to take off the hat you're wearing on your head? Why don't you take it off? Go and take the hat off yourself!"

"You pig!!!"

In the second layer of the dream, Morty watched as the sky crumbled little by little, pieces of sky like pebbles falling to the ground, creating huge craters, kicking up dust, and making a loud noise.

I'm truly speechless...

Is there really no rest at all...?

[In the real world, there's the Mirror City and the Great Demon Stein, and in the dream, my grandfather even accompanied me in. How could such a dream team still crash and burn???]

When they were attacked and entered the second layer of the dream, Morty guessed that it was Rick from the dream who had done it, out of trust in his grandfather's abilities and a desire to rest.

Morty himself didn't bother to do anything.

After all, if even Grandpa can be killed by Rick in the dream world, then what's the point of me going out? I might as well just stay and be a good leg ornament for the big boss.

Just be a cute and innocent boy!

But now I see this second layer of the dream, like a collapsing house, slowly crumbling until everything is plunged into darkness.

He was getting restless.

Morty tossed aside his drink and began trying to control the dream.

But this approach is clearly useless.

This dream doesn't seem to be one that Morty can control.

As everything was about to turn to darkness.

A golden dragon statue appeared opposite Morty without any warning.

In the darkness, only its body emitted a faint golden light, and it maintained a normal breathing rhythm, constantly flickering between light and darkness.

Just as Morty was puzzled.

A wisp of white smoke began to rise from the surface of the golden dragon statue, and as the smoke grew thicker, the surrounding temperature began to rise as well.

[Wait... this smoke... this temperature is a bit off...]

Sensing something was amiss, Morty looked around but found he had nothing to borrow.

The only thing that seems to be usable is the world of lines.

But when the view shifted, facing the dragon statue in its linear form and the constantly drifting smoke, Morty stretched his hand forward a little, only to be burned back by the scorching heat!

Powerless, Morty could only watch helplessly as the thick smoke on the dragon statue eventually turned into red flames, until the flames covered the entire dragon statue.

It was at this time that...

Morty heard a noise behind him.

A fly-like person.

A fly-like man wearing a long golden robe and a crown shaped like a dragon.

He knelt before Morti with a devout expression, shouting in an excited voice, "Great Lord of the Golden Dragons, Morti, we have finally met!"

Morty: "Do I know you?"

Pope: "I was only elected pope by you a few hours ago..."

Morty: "Oh! You're that guy who's dealing with nonsense... cough cough! My Pope! Hello! Hello!"

pope:"..."

Chapter 139 Divine Bureau

Within the A-001 universe.

Hermuel, a star three times larger than the Sun of the Milky Way, is the center of the Galactic Empire, meticulously crafted bit by bit over two thousand years of expansion.

From the presidential palace to various administrative agencies, including the best colleges, and even the most elite families and ambitious lower-class individuals.

It can be said to have gathered the most essential part of the entire empire.

It would take almost five A4-sized sheets of paper, at least tens of thousands of pages, to write a brief list of imperial institutions.

The Divine Spirit Bureau was once a renowned place thousands of years ago, but now it has become a ghost town that even fly-spinning people don't want to go to.

Because when the last 'true god' was trampled underfoot by the Empire's military boots.

The Divine Bureau was once a glorious institution, capable of mobilizing the entire Imperial army at its peak and bypassing the Council to use any planet and force except for the Empire's biggest trump card.

It has completely lost its function.

Inevitably, it went from being a top-tier institution of the empire to a place that almost no one wanted to come to in ordinary times.

The Department of Divine Spirits, which usually maintains a laid-back lifestyle, has become extremely busy, or rather... chaotic, today!

The flies coming and going all around had worry written all over their faces.

An unsettling smell filled the air.

Because this divine agency, located in the fifth ring of the empire's central area, has always had a full-channel element detection instrument that occupies three acres and consumes nearly five million kilowatt-hours of electricity every second.

Unlike astronomical telescopes and other space-based detection devices, it only checks whether the periodic table is stable within a specific region.

For example, on a planet in a universe without Rick, on a planet inhabited by higher primates.

When a piece of charcoal is burned, it will inevitably produce water, but not carbon dioxide.

However, if one day, carbon dioxide is suddenly produced after the charcoal is burned, then the Department of Divine Religion must send someone to investigate the incident.

Because every universe has its own most basic way of transforming elements.

If even the slightest thing goes wrong...

It might just be the Second Coming of God!

So the atmosphere in the Divine Bureau suddenly became tense, naturally because the full-channel element detection instrument, a machine that the Imperial Power Supply Bureau routinely complained about for its excessive power consumption and lack of profit, emitted an extremely dangerous signal!

"This is a signal captured by the machine; the stability of elements in a certain universe is slowly changing!"

Holding a tablet computer, the fly-like man walked tremblingly to the 49-year-old director, looking at the old man who had dedicated his entire life to his post.

He felt both excited and afraid.

This is because the lifespan of the Fly People is only about fifty years. In order to ensure that successors will not arbitrarily change some very important policies, each imperial institution has its own internal history book.

This ensures that every newcomer understands the responsibilities of their position.

And as a member of the powerful Divine Bureau thousands of years ago.

Nothing is more frightening and exciting than a war between gods.

The director, whose brows and eyes were already filled with worry, looked up at the excited young man. Having spent his entire life in this position, he didn't say anything more.

Young people all want to write their own names in history books, create their own legends, and establish achievements that future generations can only look up to and dare not surpass.

He understands perfectly.

But once we have a job...

That's not something that can be solved by the death of one or two people.

At least thousands of universes would have to be destroyed, a large number of gods and their followers killed, and a new Great Purge would have to be launched until the last follower died before it would all end.

Think of all the directors before me, who sat in this chair from their youthful days until they passed away, never receiving a certain signal.

I encountered this just before I was about to fail.

The director just wanted to hug his own body, which was halfway to its coffin, with a heart full of heartache.

Then go find the head of the Imperial Power Supply Bureau, stomp that disgusting fly's head under your foot, and roar into his ear.

"What's wrong with using a little electricity!"

"Our Galactic Empire has already reached the point where it can build multi-dimensional customs, so what's a little bit of electricity from me!"

"It's just that we can't generate any profit!"

"Some jobs are never going to be profitable!"

"Because no profit is the greatest profit!"

Regarding this electricity issue, the Director of the Divine Bureau regularly engages in heated debates with those short-sighted, idiotic bureaucrats in the council.