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

He did not hesitate.

If the power of the right arm's laws is no longer usable, then use the left arm.

He raised his left arm, spread his five fingers, and the power of the law condensed in his palm into a new sword—shorter and thinner than before, but with denser golden patterns on its blade.

When he cleaved the tsunami in two with his sword, the fabric from his left sleeve to his elbow silently turned to powder, revealing his arm underneath—covered in fine cracks, like the crackling of porcelain, with golden fragments of law constantly escaping from between the cracks.

"How much was used up this time? At least 30%, if not 50%?"

One of the reincarnators grinned.

Ji Canghai did not answer, but simply raised another finger.

The sea god let out a deep hiss, and his serpentine tail slapped incessantly across the sea surface—one tsunami after another rushed southward, only to be cleaved in two by his clone's sword strikes.

The seventh, the eighth, and the ninth.

Each one was over a hundred feet long, each one was precisely aimed at the direction of the coastal town, and each one was blocked by the clones outside the southern coastline.

The sea surface was covered with shattered seawater fragments.

As the sunlight shone down, the foam refracted countless tiny rainbows.

Beneath the rainbow were floating fragments of sword marks, remnants of golden light from the power of laws, and the mottled patches on the clone's white robes that were beginning to be soaked with blood.

Ji Canghai then took action—not by himself, but by having other reincarnators use their clones to wear them down.

Although they are missing five strong ones, as reincarnators of their level, they never lack clones.

Besides, it's just a matter of expending some energy.

The clones were already being used up far more than they were replenished in order to block the tsunami, and with so many clones harassing them, they were clearly running out of options.

He was struck by a sword while killing the sixteenth clone of the Reincarnator.

The sword was thrust from behind, from a reincarnator in the East Sea Alliance who specialized in assassination techniques.

The blade was very thin, almost transparent, and coated with a special toxin that could erode the laws of nature.

Although the clone managed to dodge to the side in time, the blade still pierced his right rib, and the poison seeped into his body through the wound, slowly eroding the meridians of his Law-based body.

The reincarnator was pierced through the forehead by a finger pointing at him as he turned around, but the sword remained inside his body.

The clone pulled the sword from under his ribs and casually tossed it into the sea.

The poison on the blade has been purified by the power of the laws, with about 70-80% remaining, posing no fatal threat.

However, the wound remained, and the self-healing speed of the Law Body was greatly weakened due to insufficient faith power.

"He's injured."

Someone couldn't contain their excitement and shouted.

His voice was filled with an incredulous ecstasy.

A cheer suddenly erupted from the fleet.

The reincarnators, as if they had discovered a new continent, began to chatter amongst themselves:

"It seems even Level 1 privilege holders can get injured!"

"I thought God didn't shed blood."

"You worked so hard to stop so many tsunamis, how many ordinary people did you save? A bunch of ants, what's the difference between crushing one and crushing a whole bunch?"

"What's the point of saving these indigenous people?"

"How did someone like you even survive this long? Are all Level 1 Authority users saints like you? That's really disappointing—I've been stuck at the ninth rank for over fifty worlds, dreaming of climbing up."

This is a psychological tactic.

Although Ji Canghai didn't think it was of any use, he still used it.

He didn't even need to say much—the opportunity to mock a Level 1 Authority user was enough to give other reincarnators a great sense of satisfaction.

They don't need instructions; they'll do whatever they're told.

The clone responded with a single finger pointing out.

The mocking voices stopped abruptly.

The reincarnator who called himself an "ant" looked down at the golden hole that had appeared in his chest, let out a muffled whimper, and then fell off the fleet deck into the sea.

The rest of the people fell silent.

The clone didn't pay attention.

He simply swung his sword again and again—slaying the reincarnators, splitting the tsunami, and shielding the people who had been forced onto the hillside by the giant waves behind him.

He remembered the old man selling candied hawthorns by the fishing village pier, the little girl picking up seashells on the beach, and the fishermen rowing their small boats out to sea to fish.

Each person's face is imprinted deep within his consciousness, fragments of memory brought along when the power of faith flowed into his body.

These people didn't recognize him, didn't know the name of the man in white, and only knew that someone was shielding them from the waves.

This is enough.

From the moment of his birth, he did not need to be remembered or appreciated—he was the end of faith and did not need to receive any reward from those who believed in him.

The twenty-first tsunami.

The clone drew the last sword of law—the blade was as thin as paper, covered with countless cracks, each strike bringing it closer to the brink of collapse.

As he cleaved through the tsunami, he clearly felt the recoil from the hilt of his sword. His hand split open, and cracks in his Law Body spread from his fingertips to his forearm, from his forearm to his shoulder, and from his shoulder to his chest.

He glanced down at his chest—where a spiderweb-like crack had appeared on his once smooth, mirror-like golden skin, with a very fine gray mark in the center, the result of a fragment of the old man's lantern.

The 22nd tsunami.

The Sword of Laws shattered.

The blade broke in half, one half turning into golden specks of light and dissipating in the sea breeze. The remaining half struggled for a moment in his palm before shattering as well.

The clone remained silent for a moment, then stood straight in mid-air, arms crossed in front of its chest, using its body as a wall to withstand the core impact of the tsunami.

The moment the nearly thousand-foot-high wall of water struck his body, the seawater was smashed into a sky full of white mist. His white robes were completely shattered in the mist, and the light of his Law Body dimmed by more than half at a visible speed. Cracks spread from his chest to his waist and abdomen.

He coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Golden blood mist splattered on the back of my hand, but it was dispersed by the sea breeze.

"Almost there, almost there! He can't hold on much longer!"

"Keep it up!"

Ji Canghai's expression finally changed, but it wasn't excitement; rather, it was a very complex expression—like a hunter watching his prey take its last breath.

He kept calculating the consumption, estimating the power lost by each time his clone blocked a tsunami.

From the first tsunami until now, this Level 1 Authority user has consumed at least 60% of his power.

This is his lower limit of estimation, but the actual figure is likely to be higher.

The cheers on the sea grew louder and louder.

The reincarnators have gone from initial fear to unbridled mockery:

"A Level 1 privilege holder is nothing special!"

"Hahahaha! Look at you, looking so pathetic. You really think you're something special?"

"What a fool! He has the power to destroy everything, yet he chooses to use it to save a bunch of ants."

"How did someone like you even get Level 1 access? Did you just get incredibly lucky?"

The clone moved its lips.

The voice was very soft, as if talking to oneself, or as if answering a question from someone who had been dead for a long time.

He never considered them to be a bunch of ants.

From the day he was born, from the first time he heard the people who practiced the "Divine Body Refinement Technique" silently thanking the person who wrote the technique, he knew that they were living, breathing people.

I will feel hungry, cold, and in pain.

They would rub their hands and stomp their feet around a fire on a winter night, they would pray to the earth again and again on the day the seeds were sown in spring, and they would smile from ear to ear when their child passed the imperial examination.

Their lives are short and fragile; a single tsunami can drown tens of thousands.

But it was the faith of these people that brought him together; it was the desires of these people that condensed into the power that allowed him to wield his sword.

He could stop trying to stop the tsunami and abandon these people.

But he couldn't do it.

His vow is a collective wish of all sentient beings, so it is impossible for him to abandon them.