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

East China Sea, an unnamed sea area.

Three hundred feet below the sea surface.

At this depth, the sunlight has been swallowed up by the sea, leaving only a thick, boundless darkness.

But the darkness is not dead—it flows, rising and falling at an extremely slow, heavy rhythm, like a giant beast breathing.

There is no sand on the seabed, only rocks.

The black basalt has been eroded by seawater for countless millennia, its surface covered with honeycomb-like holes. Occasionally, a few glowing shrimp emerge, flashing faintly before fading away.

At the end of the rocks was a deep trench, its bottom unseen; looking down from above, all one could see was a crack darker than darkness itself.

The sea god dwells deep in the ocean trench.

Its true form is a giant black serpent that is thousands of feet long, with scales as large as millstones, and at its thickest point, four carriages can run side by side.

The edges of each scale gleamed with a cold, eerie blue light, flickering like countless half-open, half-closed eyes.

At this moment, its scales are slowly opening and closing, and seawater is flowing in and out through the gaps, forming circles of undercurrents around its body.

The snake's head was buried in the center of its coiled body, and there was a very deep old scar seven inches away—the scales were broken, revealing the grayish-white snake skin underneath.

The scar is still bleeding.

A dark blue, luminous liquid seeped from the wound, and upon encountering seawater, it condensed into irregular, fist-sized particles that slowly drifted away with the ocean currents.

The sea god is molting.

Once a year, this is when it is at its weakest.

A person is suspended in front of the snake's head.

He looked like a boy of seventeen or eighteen, shirtless, his skin almost transparently pale from being soaked in seawater.

Kelp was wrapped around his arms, and seaweed hung in his hair.

His body swayed gently with the ocean current, like a seaweed growing on the edge of a trench.

But the eyes were open.

His pupils reflected the cold, blue light of the sea god's scales, quiet and focused.

He stretched out a hand and pressed it on the old scar on the sea god's body.

The scales at the edge of the wound tightened abruptly, and the sea god let out a low hiss.

The surrounding undercurrents suddenly intensified, and seawater surged in from all directions, crashing against the boy and knocking him backward.

He did not let go.

His palm rested firmly on the scar, his fingers sinking slightly into the cracks in the scales, and a faint wisp of blue light seeped from his fingertips.

The light threads, as fine as hair, burrowed deep into the scar, moving among the shattered scales.

Poseidon was quiet for a moment, then began to struggle violently.

The snake lashed its body violently, its tail lashing up from the depths of the trench and crashing onto the basalt seabed, smashing a millstone-sized rock into dust.

Silt rose from the seabed, spreading like ink, obscuring all view.

The boy remained motionless in the murky seawater.

A ring of cyan light appeared on the seabed beneath his feet—a hundred feet in diameter, filled with intricate and complex runes.

None of these runes are from this world; they are all soul-binding runes he brought from the world of beast taming.

Each one is a soul lock, and the sixteen soul locks are nested together, weaving a web of contracts that covers the entire bottom of the trench.

The center of the net is the sea god's Achilles' heel.

Three more steps are needed.

He thought to himself.

Eighteen years.

Eighteen years have passed since he opened his eyes and found himself lying in the water at the bottom of a fishing boat—his umbilical cord still uncut, and a group of people outside clamoring to sacrifice him to the sea god.

The baby's body was soaking in the stagnant, salty water.

The fishing boat rocked violently in the storm, the thunder and shouts of "Wrath of the Sea God" from outside the ship's side mingling together—the first sound he had ever heard in this world.

He was not sacrificed later.

The fishing boat capsized, everyone died, only he survived—a newborn baby who drifted on the sea for three days and three nights in a Category 10 storm, and was finally washed ashore on a rocky beach of a deserted island.

He ate shellfish from the crevices of the rocks to fill his stomach, pried open oyster shells with his baby fingers to drink the juice, and crawled on the beach for a month before finding fresh water.

After he was able to walk, he carved his first Soul Contract Mark on the highest rock on the island.

That was the supreme beast-taming technique he had painstakingly obtained in the worlds he had reincarnated in before.

He did not find the sea god.

The sea god found him.

When he was twelve years old, his soul contract patterns were engraved on every rock of the entire deserted island. The fluctuations of his soul power spread out with the ocean currents, awakening the giant beast that was sleeping deep in the trench.

On the day the sea god emerged from the sea, the seawater within a thousand miles was boiling, and all the fish, shrimp, crabs and shellfish leaped out of the water at the same time, spreading a silver carpet on the crest of the waves.

The soul contract patterns accumulated over twelve years were all activated at this moment.

Sixteen soul chains flew up from the rocks of the deserted island, transforming into sixteen burning cyan chains that shot into the sea god's vital point.

At that moment, a roar could be heard throughout half of the East China Sea.

Eighteen years, sixteen soul locks, only three more to go.

The sea god's struggle gradually subsided.

It was too tired.

Every year when they shed their skin, they are at their weakest, but the boy happens to choose this time to strengthen his soul lock.

For six years, he has come every year when he sheds his skin, and each time he adds an extra soul lock.

From its initial rage to its later resistance, and now its silence—the sea god no longer tries to kill this insignificant human, but it still struggles every time the Soul Chain pierces its vital spot.

The boy withdrew his hand, and the blue light between his fingers had dissipated.

Three new runes have appeared on the scar on Poseidon's seven-inch mark, intertwining with the previous sixteen and firmly locking the entire seven-inch mark in place.

He put his hands behind his back and looked into the vertical pupils of the giant serpent, which was thousands of feet long.

His pale face was reflected in his vertical pupils, as was the golden sea of ​​clouds that was forming above the sea.

East China Sea, an unnamed deserted island.

There was only one boy on the island, sitting on the highest rock.

The surface of the rock was covered with Soul Contract patterns, layer upon layer, densely packed, each one carved with fingertips.

He wore a dark green robe, had a handsome face with well-defined features, and a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth, carrying a faint smile.

A dozen or so reincarnators stood on the beach below the rocks—some barefoot, some wearing raincoats, and some carrying freshly caught fish.

They were all reincarnated beings from the islands of the East China Sea, with different identities, but at this moment they all looked up at the boy on the rock.

Of course, none of them were the real thing.

However, someone found their true form and summoned them over.

They had no choice but to come.

The boy pressed his hand down, and the noise gradually subsided.

"The Mandate of Heaven has been revealed."

He got straight to the point: "The Great Qin Dynasty has been upgraded, and Ying Ji is the destiny of this era."

"We know that."

Someone shouted.

"But there are some things you don't know."

The boy looked down at them, the smile on his lips suddenly vanishing. "The sea god told me that extraterrestrial demons had once visited this world."

The beach fell silent instantly, and even the sound of waves crashing against the rocks became exceptionally clear.

"Do you know what happened to those extraterrestrial demons afterward?"

He paused for a moment, then said, "Dead. All of them are dead."

"They were all killed by one person."

"That person was called the 'Child of Destiny' by the extraterrestrial demons of that time—that was Ying Ji."

A gaunt, tattooed reincarnator stepped forward, his brow furrowed.

"You're talking about things from so many years ago."

"Back then he was the chosen one, but now... he's just the emperor of an indigenous dynasty."

"Whether it is or not is not important."