I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

His slightly manic voice echoed in the empty basement:

"I laugh at that prime minister's lack of strategy, the academy's lack of wisdom, and the church's lack of courage!"

"Augustus thought he was playing a double agent game, the Academy thought the Forbidden Library was impregnable, and the Church thought the North was the battlefield. Little did they know that the real sacrifice had always been right under their noses."

He became more and more excited as he spoke, his voice echoing in the basement, and the distorted runes seemed to pulsate with his tone.

"A pawn should act like a pawn. While the apostles frolic in the academy and the three major powers lay their nets outside, I only need to sit here and wait for them to set the stage. At that time, the capital will become an altar, and tens of thousands of souls will forge my path to ascension..."

He became more and more excited as he spoke, stood up, and paced in front of the altar, the hem of his cloak sweeping shallow marks on the dusty ground.

"And those nobles, those wealthy merchants, those self-important big shots—once the sacrifice is complete and the capital is turned into a dead zone, I'll see who can stop my Order of Light from overthrowing this world!"

He opened his arms and looked up at the darkness above, as if embracing some kind of nihilistic faith.

"I—the 'Thousand-Faced Apostle'—am the sole player in this game!"

He lowered his head, preparing to put away the "Seven Pages Book - Fragment," his gaze inadvertently sweeping over the words written in blood on the pages.

The smile suddenly froze.

The crimson blood, which should have seeped into the paper after the last word was written, was now visibly converging towards a corner of the page.

That's the location of the passage where he wrote "The False Apostle of a Thousand Faces" as a student who came to the academy.

The blood condensed and swirled there, as if drawn by something from afar, or as if desperately trying to escape something.

The "Thousand-Faced Apostle" subconsciously reached out to touch it. The moment his fingertips touched the pages, a chilling sensation emanated from the paper and rushed straight to his brain.

He "saw" a person.

Clad in white, with black hair and a calm expression, he slowly raised his head from the direction of the academy, his gaze piercing through the void and landing directly on him.

Her gaze was devoid of any emotion; she simply smiled at him and mouthed something to him.

"I've found you."

The "Thousand-Faced Apostle" froze abruptly, looking as if he had seen a ghost. He forcefully flung his hand away from the pages of the book, staggered backward, and knocked over the candlestick behind him.

The candle went out, plunging the basement into darkness, with only his rapid breathing echoing in the distance.

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! How did he figure it out? My plan was flawless..."

No one answered him.

But he knew that the person had already located him.

……

Meanwhile, in the college dormitory area, Elena was sitting with him on a deserted bench, basking in the sun.

Ji Tian withdrew his divine sense, his brows furrowing slightly. Although he was quite pleased after scaring the "Thousand-Faced Apostle," he was still quite concerned about the source of power of the object the other party held.

They can see and even arrange other people's belongings, and arrange others through writing.

Why does it sound so familiar the more I listen to it?

No, I have to go and see what's going on.

Ji Tian turned his head to look at the girl beside him. Her drowsiness had mostly dissipated, replaced by a cautious concern.

Just as he was about to explain the situation, Elena seemed to notice something, raised her hand to rub her eyes, and yawned slightly. "I'm actually a little sleepy and want to go back to sleep. You go ahead and do your own thing. The library this afternoon... we'll go another day."

Elena knew that there were some things she couldn't get involved in right now, and the only thing she could do was not to distract the other person at such a crucial moment.

Ji Tian nodded and said nothing more.

He raised his head and looked towards the northern horizon.

The capital city has a spatial teleportation restriction, which takes time to break and may cause some trouble. It's faster to just fly here.

He used hand seals to conceal the commotion he had caused at the academy, lightly touched the ground with his toes, and his figure shot straight into the sky like a drawn sword.

His white robes fluttered in the air, the academy buildings below gradually shrank, and the outline of the entire capital city unfolded beneath his feet.

He locked onto that direction and accelerated.

The air tore through him with a sharp whistling sound as he pierced through the clouds, faster than any flight magic could achieve.

……

In the basement, the "Thousand-Faced Apostle" had already tidied everything up.

He tucked the "Seven-Page Book" into his robes, escaped through the hidden door, and ran wildly outwards along a pre-prepared secret passage.

His speed was astonishing; he used illusionary clones, concealed his presence, and set up more than ten misleading magical traces along the way.

He was confident that even a Grand Magister-level pursuer would be delayed by him for at least half a cup of tea's time.

This gave him enough time to escape to the safe house set up outside the capital and leave through a hidden teleportation array that had been prepared in advance.

He burst out of the secret passage and leaped onto the desolate plains north of the capital.

A gust of wind swept into the cloak, blowing the hood off to reveal a pale, thin face with sunken eyes, and dark red eyes filled with terror.

He had already fled dozens of miles away, and looked back: the city walls of the capital were getting further and further away.

"I can't catch up..." He panted, a relieved smile playing on his lips. "My escape methods, 'The Thousand-Faced Apostle,' are nothing..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

A white figure descended from the sky, landing precisely ten steps in front of him, and walked towards him step by step.

His robes fluttered gracefully, spotless.

The "Thousand-Faced Apostle's" heart skipped a beat, and he abruptly stopped, his shoes carving two shallow furrows in the weeds.

"You...how could you—!"

The "Thousand-Faced Apostle's" pupils contracted violently. He pulled out a fragment of the "Seven-Page Book" from his robes, bit his tongue, and spat a mouthful of blood onto the page. His fingers flew across the paper as he wrote.

"My magic achieved a breakthrough in battle, and each of the shadow clones that were created is exactly the same as the original! This makes perfect sense."

In fact, with Ji Tian's current cultivation level, he could have easily interrupted the other party while they were writing, but he did not do so for the sake of caution.

On one hand, although Ji Tian could tell at a glance that the magic weapon in the other party's hand was incomplete and posed no threat to him (otherwise he wouldn't have been able to track it back), similar items he had seen in online novels in his previous life were too insidious. Making a rash move would likely put him at a disadvantage. It would be better to remain unchanged and be ready to use [Domain·Expand] at any time to rewind everything within the domain.

On the other hand, Ji Tian also wanted to see what kind of big tricks this enemy, whom he had tracked down via the internet, could pull off.

The pages of the book lit up with a dark red light, and in an instant, dozens of figures exactly like him surged out of the void and rushed in all directions.

Each clone carried real magical energy fluctuations, and each one resembled the original body.

Ji Tian did not stop.

His divine sense spread out like an invisible net in an instant, covering the entire wasteland.

Those clones were nowhere to be hidden in his consciousness; they had no soul or life, they were nothing more than empty shells driven by magic.

He raised his hand and released a powerful directional spiritual pressure, causing dozens of clones to explode simultaneously, turning into countless blood-red light spots that dissipated in the wind.

The true form of the "Thousand-Faced Apostle" had already run a hundred paces away. He bit his tongue again and wrote furiously on the pages of the book.

"I will pour all the memories I have devoured into the enemy's mind, causing his thinking to become confused and rendering him unable to pursue me! This makes perfect sense."

After writing it down, he used an unknown magic to flood Ji Tian's mind with a massive amount of useless information: noise, images, and confused memories... This was one of his trump cards, specifically designed to counter opponents with weaker mental strength.

The pages lit up.

Ji Tian didn't pause for even a moment.

The nascent soul sat upright in the Purple Mansion, and the flood of information flowed in like a stream into the sea, without even causing a ripple.

The "Thousand-Faced Apostle" turned completely pale.

He ripped the page off the page and clutched it in his hand, his blood rushing wildly to the page—this was his last and most desperate measure: to use his most powerful body as a sacrifice to write words that would rewrite reality on the page.

After he bleeds out and dies, his soul will be resurrected in his other incarnations.

It's just a pity about this best body and this fragment of the "Seven Pages Book".

Forget it, saving my life is the priority.

His bitten tongue tip had dried up, his lips were pale, his skin was starting to crack, and fine beads of blood were seeping from under his fingernails.

With his last ounce of strength, he wrote on the page:

"The person I was fighting suddenly died! This doesn't make sense, but it will happen any minute now!"

The handwriting was crooked and distorted, carrying the final madness of a dying man.

The pages lit up with an unprecedentedly dazzling red light, and then it went out.

Nothing happened.

Ji Tian walked up to him unharmed, looked down at the dying man, and spoke in a chilling tone:

"Are you trying to revive yourself through other clones?"

The "Thousand-Faced Apostle" had bled to death. His body was like an empty sack, shriveled and withered. His dark red eyes stared intently at Ji Tian, ​​his pupils filled with disbelief.

"How did you know?!"

Ji Tian reached out and placed his hand on the top of his head.

"Nonsense! You're called the 'Thousand-Faced Apostle,' how could you live up to your name without creating clones to resurrect yourself?"

Having said that, he used his divine sense to pierce into the other person's sea of ​​consciousness and directly searched their soul.

In an instant, fragments of his memories unfolded before Ji Tian.

He saw several functional bodies, each hidden in a different secret underground chamber. As soon as the current physical body died, the soul would instantly transfer to that body, completing the "resurrection".

Sure enough.

The "Thousand-Faced Apostle" moved his lips, as if he wanted to say something more.

Ji Tian raised his other hand, and the power of time surged from his palm, freezing the other person's physical state at this moment, along with their consciousness.

The final expression on the "Thousand-Faced Apostle's" face froze—fear, resentment, and a hint of realization.

In the moment before his consciousness was frozen, only one thought remained in his mind:

"You are... a demigod?!"