Chapter 048: Parallel World? (Please vote with flowers~)
In the very next second—just one frame after the previous scene—the height of the figure suddenly became 180 centimeters.
Because the clothing and styling remained identical, the change was almost imperceptible unless one looked very closely. Yet even the folds in the fabric revealed subtle differences. These weren't caused by movement, but by how the clothes were worn—like sleeves that were rolled up in one frame and let down in the next. The garments also appeared newer in the latter frame, whereas they had looked worn before.
And this wasn't an isolated case—it seemed to affect a whole crowd.
Wait, another anomaly: one of the assassins attacking someone had the exact same face as his target?
That's bizarre. Why would someone disguise themselves to look like an assassin?
Then came a widespread irregularity: in the previous frame, the crowd had varying heights—some taller, some shorter. But in the next frame, everyone was uniformly sized. Of course, children didn't suddenly grow into adults, but even among kids of similar age, their proportions were eerily identical—like mass-produced dolls from a modern assembly line, differing only in facial features and attire.
Even more unsettling.
Yet during this moment of fluctuation, some people remained unchanged—namely, the assassins and the guests who had traveled from afar to witness the ceremony.
"Big sister, what's going on?" asked Lantigris, unable to make sense of what she was seeing.
Her sister's faint smile hinted that she understood.
"You think the First Emperor forcibly made people abandon their bodies and imprisoned their souls in machines?"
"Wait—wasn't that what happened?"
Judging by her sister's tone, that wasn't the case.
Lantigris felt relieved. She didn't want to believe something so cruel had occurred—souls ripped from flesh and bound to machines like puppets.
"No," said Brunhild, shaking her head.
She had seen more clearly and understood the truth.
In that instant of fluctuation, the world had simply been replaced.
Just like when they had encountered Xiang Yu earlier—an eerie shift, as if yesterday had been the ancient era and today was suddenly the age of industrial revolution.
Brunhild suspected they had been pulled into an alternate space—a parallel realm mirroring the real world.
In other words, during that moment, the assassins and the distant guests had been transferred into a parallel space—one where the Qin Empire's technology far surpassed that of the other side.
And at the same location, the First Emperor had already arranged mechanical actors and replicated the scene, making it nearly impossible for the transferred individuals to notice the change.
But how had the Emperor identified the problematic individuals—those not native to Xianyang?
Perhaps they had been marked beforehand.
Brunhild had another theory: the Emperor had analyzed the crowd during the singing of the battle hymn. Those who sang sincerely remained, while those who didn't—or lacked genuine loyalty—were marked and transferred.
As for the method used to determine this, she didn't know.
Why had the Emperor done this?
To eliminate threats and protect the proud citizens of Qin?
That couldn't be the only reason. Surely he wouldn't kill outsiders who hadn't yet developed a sense of belonging to Qin.
No, it was likely a strategy to identify and isolate the assassins—waiting for them to act so he could capture them all at once.
Brunhild was stunned by the Emperor's unimaginable power and tactics.
How had he created a parallel space so perfectly aligned with the real world?
This wasn't a true parallel world, but rather a layered dimension—a small parallel plane stacked atop reality.
Such planes were typically the domains of gods.
And they required extraordinary resources to sustain—far beyond human reach.
"Big sister!!!"
Lantigris's voice rang out in shock.
Brunhild turned to see her sister staring not at the Emperor's platform, but at the capital city of Xianyang.
Her expression was one of utter disbelief.
What had she seen?
Brunhild followed her gaze, tracking the panicked assassins as they fled toward the city gates—blocked by the army ahead, they had no choice but to run toward Xianyang.
As they crossed the threshold, they froze in place, horror etched on their faces.
They stared into the city as if it were hell itself.
Brunhild looked too—and saw it.
"Just as I thought—!"
The city's interior was vastly different from the Qin era of two hundred years ago. It felt like a foreign realm—no, more like a city from another world.
Though it retained some ancient aesthetics, the differences were overwhelming.
Especially the palace—it was massive, built as if atop a colossal tree trunk.
And it was indeed a tree trunk—a World Tree.
That explained how this alternate space could exist.
Though smaller than the World Trees Brunhild had seen before, it was still astonishing.
Where had the First Emperor obtained such a thing?
Wait—something didn't add up.
How could this space block the Akasha system?
Spaces tied to reality typically relied on branches of the main World Tree. Severing that connection would be suicidal—the tree would wither, and the space collapse.
Yet this tree showed no signs of decay. It seemed truly independent.
Unless… this World Tree was equal in rank to the one outside—meaning this space was a complete universe.
But that was impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Then she remembered: Solomon had also created an alternate space. Did that space also contain a World Tree?
Did King Solomon and the First Emperor each possess their own worlds?
Solomon's realm was likely built using the framework of the demon king's domain.
"Big sister, that's… the World Tree, right?"
Lantigris finally spoke, her voice dazed.
Only gods had realms supported by World Trees—those were the divine homeworlds.
Yet this world belonged to a human?
And its technology far surpassed the outside world.
Had the First Emperor acquired alien technology from some advanced civilization?
That couldn't be. The gods knew this universe well—surely they would have noticed.
"Mm," Brunhild nodded, still puzzled.
Had the Eastern gods truly failed to notice the Emperor's actions?
Three thousand years ago, they had intervened heavily in the human world, sparking conflict with other pantheons. Eventually, the other gods withdrew, leaving the East untouched.
Since then, they hadn't attended the millennial meetings.
But this time, new Eastern gods had appeared—ones who readily agreed with the proposal to exterminate humanity.
Suddenly, Brunhild stiffened, cold sweat trickling down her face.
A gaze locked onto her—a gaze with weight, as if crushing her.