I will make Qin Shi Huang immortal in the Great Qin Dynasty.

"The land beneath our feet is a giant sphere. Starting from one point, if you walk in one direction, you will return to the starting point after going around in a circle."

Ying Zheng's pupils contracted slightly.

This statement was beyond all his knowledge and imagination.

The earth ends at the sky, and the sky ends at the earth; the sky is round and the earth is square—this is a truth that everyone has believed since ancient times.

But Qin Tian said that the earth is a sphere.

Ying Zheng glanced at the slightly curved horizon again and remained silent for a long time.

His reason told him that this was too absurd, too absurd to believe.

But he glanced at the curved line again, then again, and then once more.

The facts speak for themselves.

No matter how absurd this fact may be, it is still a fact.

"Will the person on the other side of the ball fall down?"

Ying Zheng was indeed Ying Zheng; his thinking was extremely sharp, and he immediately grasped the core contradiction of this theory.

If the earth were a sphere, wouldn't the people underneath it be upside down?

Will they fall?

Qin Tian's lips curved slightly: "Brother Zheng, that's a good question. But it's a bit complicated to explain. You'll understand once you know more about it."

It wasn't that he was unwilling to explain, but rather that the issue involved a series of physics concepts such as universal gravitation and centripetal force, which were simply impossible to explain in this era.

He couldn't exactly lecture Ying Zheng on Newton's law of universal gravitation, could he? He'd have to start by explaining why apples fall to the ground.

Ying Zheng glanced at Qin Tian but did not ask any further questions.

He knew that the Imperial Advisor must have a reason for not explaining.

"Grand Preceptor, which direction should we go?" Ying Zheng turned his gaze from the horizon to Qin Tian.

"Southward."

Qin Tian raised his hand and pointed south, towards that vast area that, in Ying Zheng's perception, belonged to the Baiyue region.

"South of the Great Qin, there are vast tracts of land. No one has established a state in those places yet, only some primitive tribes. The climate there is hot and rainy, with lush vegetation, and there is a staple food that we in the Great Qin do not have, called rice."

"Rice?" Ying Zheng repeated the unfamiliar word.

"A type of grain, similar to millet and sorghum, but with a higher yield and suitable for cultivation in humid and hot regions. In areas south of Daqin (the Roman Empire), rice can be grown three times a year."

Ying Zheng's gaze suddenly sharpened.

Three harvests a year.

These four words were like a bolt of lightning, cleaving away all the distractions in his mind.

He was the emperor of the Qin Dynasty, and the issue of food was the most important thing he faced and thought about every day.

He knew better than anyone else the population of the Qin Dynasty, how much grain it needed each year, the harvest in different regions, the amount of grain stored in the granaries, and which areas needed grain relief.

Millet and sorghum are harvested once a year.

In years with favorable weather, the harvest is decent; but in years of disaster, grain production decreases, and grain must be transferred from other places.

To ensure food supply, he established the Ever-Normal Granary, storing grain in good years and distributing it in bad years, but this was ultimately a passive response rather than a fundamental solution.

If there is a type of crop that can be harvested three times a year.

Three seasons.

The same land, the same manpower, but the output is three times!

Ying Zheng's mind was already racing with calculations.

South of Daqin, those places he considered hot, humid, and malaria-ridden, unsuitable for habitation.

If, as the imperial advisor said, rice can be grown three times a year, then those places will no longer be considered useless, but rather treasures.

He could establish prefectures and counties in those places, resettle immigrants, turn those wastelands into fertile fields, and transform those "barbaric lands" into the granary of the Qin Dynasty.

More food means more people, stronger national power, more troops, and the ability to conquer more territories and build a larger empire.

"Such a wonderful place," Ying Zheng said firmly, "that belongs to me, to the Great Qin."

Looking at Ying Zheng's "I want them all" expression, Qin Tian thought of what netizens in later years said on the internet: "Oh my god, oh my god, they're all mine." His lips twitched, but he didn't say anything.

Indeed, regardless of the era or age, Ying Zheng was, at heart, the Qin Shi Huang who swept across the land and unified the world.

When I hear that a place has something good, my first reaction isn't "That place is really nice," but rather "That belongs to me."

The people, carried by Yuanli, were slowly flying south, passing through the clouds, crossing the mountains, and heading towards the land that Ying Zheng had never seen with his own eyes.

The group flew south, passing through the Southern Ridge and beyond what Ying Zheng considered a "barbaric land," entering a completely new world.

The scenery below gradually changed from hills and mountains to plains, and from sparse forests to dense tropical rainforests.

Lush vegetation covered the entire land, in shades of deep green, light green, emerald green, and dark green, layer upon layer, as if someone had splashed the most intense green paint across this land.

The area is crisscrossed by rivers and has a well-developed water system. The rivers, large and small, form a huge net that divides this land into countless sections of varying sizes.

From high above, the rivers shimmered with a silvery-white light under the sunlight, meandering and winding. In some places, they formed wide alluvial plains, the soil of which was much darker than the loess soil of the Qin Dynasty, clearly indicating extremely fertile land.

Ying Zheng's eyes widened.

He looked down at the vast land from the sky, his eyes growing brighter and brighter, like two burning flames.

Good land.

Great land!

He was the emperor, an emperor who had cultivated the five grains, cared about agriculture and sericulture, and reviewed the harvest reports of various counties every year.

He could tell at a glance what kind of land could grow what kind of crops, and what kind of soil was suitable for what kind of crops.

The land beneath our feet is abundant in water, dense in forest, thick in soil, and flat in terrain. The climate is warm and humid, and the vegetation is so lush that it seems impossible for humans to prune it.

Such land, let alone growing crops, even if you just scatter seeds on the ground, with a little rain and sunshine, they would probably grow all over the mountains and fields on their own.

It belongs to me, it all belongs to me.

These words echoed endlessly in Ying Zheng's mind, buzzing incessantly.

Qin Tian led everyone down slowly, choosing a flat area near the river.

The ground beneath my feet was soft mud; each step left a deep footprint, sinking slightly into the soil.

The air was humid and sticky, carrying a smell of fermenting soil and plants, making it hard to breathe.

Fortunately, the Yuanli protective shield isolated some of the heat and humidity; otherwise, these Qin soldiers, wearing thick armor, would probably have suffered heatstroke on the spot.

Not far away is an indigenous tribe.

It's called a tribe, but it's really just a few dozen thatched huts scattered haphazardly across an open space.

Those thatched huts were extremely rudimentary, with frames made of wooden sticks and bamboo, covered with large, unidentified leaves and thatch. They were low and damp, looking worse than pigsties.

Some indigenous people were active among the thatched huts.

They were short in stature, dark-skinned, and wore only minimal clothing to cover their bodies, with aprons woven from tree bark or grass around their waists. They were bare-chested and barefoot.

Their hair was messy and piled on top of their heads. Some people had a few feathers stuck in their hair as decoration, and some people had white paint on their faces, with simple lines and patterns drawn on them.