He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

He walked back to his desk, sat down, remained silent for a moment, then closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into the Bridge of Faith.

An invisible bridge spanned the void, one end in his sea of ​​consciousness and the other in his clone a thousand miles away.

The power of faith flowed slowly through the bridge, and golden light gathered from all directions to the main body's chest before flowing to the clones.

He sensed the location of his clone and then issued a command—come back.

The clone stood on a desolate mountain outside Yangzhou City in the Song Dynasty, holding a jade slip that had just been retrieved from the sea of ​​consciousness of a reincarnator.

Upon receiving the order, he did not hesitate at all, put the jade slip into his pocket, and turned to go down the mountain.

Her white robes fluttered in the night wind, and with a few leaps, she disappeared at the end of the mountain path.

A day later, the clone returned to Luozhou City.

When the door to the Yun family's villa was pushed open, Yun Yi was sitting under a locust tree drinking tea.

The locust tree's leaves were so dense that they could provide shade, and the afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering golden fragments across the bluestone ground.

The clone walked up to Yun Yi and placed the three jade slips on the tea table.

These three jade slips contain thirty-one complete cultivation techniques from different worlds.

"I was made prey, and had no choice but to use my last bit of faith to barely win."

The theory of clones.

Yunyi pointed to the stone bench opposite.

The clone sat down, and the two of them sat facing each other exactly as they had three months ago in the study—one main body and one clone, facing each other like a person looking in a mirror.

"You know about what happened at Yan Hui Valley, right?"

Yun Yi poured a cup of tea for his clone. "I called you here today because there's something very important."

He put down his teacup and looked directly at his clone:

"After the battle at Yan Hui Valley, I've been thinking about a question—although the power of faith is impervious to all evil, it is consumed too much in battles between high-level reincarnators, and every bit used is one less."

"You've already sensed it, haven't you?"

The clone nodded.

It's okay for dealing with ordinary reincarnators, but when it comes to someone like Xu Youlan, it can only barely kill her after using it all, and then it might face the problem of not having enough faith power to obtain the cultivation technique.

Moreover, the trouble will be even greater if there are more people involved.

"So I plan to give you a different kind of power."

Yun Yi condensed his own understanding of the rules into a sapling and handed it to his clone, saying, "This contains all my insights after breaking through to become a true god in the mortal realm."

"After absorbing it, you will have the combat power of a true god in the mortal realm."

"The power of faith is still reserved for you to use when filtering your memories, as a trump card to defend against powerful enemies."

"But from now on, use this as your standard combat method."

The clone placed the sapling on its forehead and put it down after a moment.

The pale golden light deep within his pupils brightened slightly, then slowly faded, replaced by a very faint, almost transparent sheen.

The luster was very faint, like a thin layer of ice on the surface of water, almost imperceptible unless you looked closely—it was a trace of the power of law.

"Understood."

The theory of clones.

"The source of the power of the true gods on earth is the law; as long as the law exists, the power will never cease."

Yun Yi leaned back in his chair, looking at the leaves of the locust tree above him—each leaf translucent in the sunlight, with distinct veins. "The power of faith comes from the human heart. Every bit used is a bit less, and once it's used up, you have to start saving again."

"But the power of laws is different—once you understand the laws, the universe itself will provide you with energy."

"Use this to kill those who are reincarnated, and leave the reading of cultivation techniques to the power of faith."

The clone nodded, accepting the new power system.

The power of faith serves as a filtering barrier and the ultimate trump card, while the power of the true god on earth is used as a regular means of combat; the division of labor is clear and efficient.

He picked up the cup of tea in front of him, which had gone cold, and took a sip.

The locust tree leaves rustled as a leaf swirled down, landing on the tea table between the two people.

Yunyi picked up the leaf, looked at it in his palm for a while, then let go and let the wind blow it away.

"How many are left on the list?"

The theory of clones.

"Three, but some were stolen."

Yun Yi nodded.

He raised his hand slightly.

The clone immediately understood the original's meaning—kill them all.

……

The Qin Dynasty, Xianyang

Xianyang was not the most prosperous city in the Qin Dynasty, but it was the most "important" city in the Qin Dynasty.

This importance is not reflected in the height of the city walls, the width of the streets, or the density of the population—in these respects alone, Jicheng of the Great Yan, Luozhou of the Great Wu, and Lin'an of the Great Song were no less than Xianyang.

The weight of Xianyang lies in its foundation.

The entire city was built on a complete dragon vein spine.

From palaces to residences, from highways to canals, the placement of every brick and stone subtly corresponds to the direction of the earth's veins.

Walking on the streets of Xianyang, your pace will unconsciously slow down, and your breathing will unconsciously become deeper.

It wasn't that some force was suppressing it; rather, the city itself was like a dozing giant beast, and everyone subconsciously didn't want to wake it.

The Emperor's Palace is located in the center of Xianyang, facing south.

The palace walls are nine feet nine inches high, representing the extreme number; the palace gates have nine doors, representing the number of heaven.

The imperial road outside the palace gate was thirty zhang wide and paved with the unique blue-black stone of the Qin Dynasty. The stone surface was polished smooth as a mirror, and the moonlight reflected the images of passersby.

But it was evening.

The setting sun was sinking behind the crenellations of the western palace wall, turning the bluestone into a dark, golden-red hue, like a solidified river of molten copper.

At the end of the imperial road, the palace gates stood wide open.

It wasn't a normal opening—all nine palace gates were wide open, from the outer gate to the inner gate, from the Meridian Gate to the Fengtian Gate, and from the Fengtian Gate to the last palace gate leading to the emperor's sleeping quarters, all the way open.

This was the etiquette used by the Qin emperor when receiving foreign monarchs, but at this moment there were no ceremonial guards, palace servants, or imperial guards with halberds on the imperial road.

Between the nine wide-open palace gates, only a draft could be seen, making the bronze bells at the corners of the hall tinkle.

There is a ginkgo tree in front of the emperor's sleeping quarters, which is said to have been planted by Emperor Taizu of Qin himself.

The tree is 2,400 years old, its trunk is so thick that five people cannot encircle it, and its canopy covers half of the sleeping quarters.

In autumn, the trees turn golden, and the fallen leaves can turn the steps in front of the palace into a golden sea.

It's late summer now, and the ginkgo leaves are still green, densely packed, rustling in the wind like countless little hands clapping.

Ying Ji sat under the tree.

In front of him was a low table, lacquered in black and gilded, with a pot of wine and two cups on it.

The cup is a bronze jue (a type of ancient Chinese wine vessel), with a tall foot and a wide mouth, and the inner wall is covered with a very thin layer of silver foil.

The wine was imperial wine, but the wine pot was an ordinary pottery pot—the spout had a small chip, and the glaze on the pot was worn and mottled.

It was the roughest kind of pottery pot from the common people, and it looked incongruous when placed next to a low table with gold decorations and a bronze wine cup.

Ying Ji himself was more conspicuous than that low table.

He was dressed in a dark black casual robe, without embroidered dragons or the twelve imperial symbols, only with a few water ripple patterns subtly embroidered on the cuffs with the same color silk thread.

He wore a jade belt with two dragons playing with a pearl around his waist, but the belt was not tied properly and hung crookedly on his waist, like a rich old man who just threw on a robe and went out.

He looked to be in his early twenties, with a straight, prominent nose and deep-set facial features.

But what's most striking are those eyes—so calm, as calm as a stagnant pool of water blocked by four high walls, without even a ripple.

He is pouring wine.

The earthenware pot was tilted, and the wine flowed down from the spout, falling into the bronze jue with a clear, melodious tinkling sound.

His movements were so steady that the distance between the spout and the cup remained unchanged from beginning to end.

They poured one goblet full, then poured another.

Then he put down the pottery pot, pushed one of the wine cups to the opposite side, and said towards the empty space:

"You're here, why aren't you coming in? Want me to pour you some wine?"

The copper bells on the eaves suddenly shook violently, their tinkling sounds becoming chaotic before abruptly ceasing.

There was one more person under the ginkgo tree.

Old Jiang was wearing a faded blue cloth Taoist robe, his hair was tied up in a messy bun and held in place by a withered twig he had picked up from somewhere.

He plopped down opposite Ying Ji, picked up the bronze wine cup, tilted his head back, and gulped it down—with a few loud gulps, without even taking a breath, he finished the entire cup of imperial wine.