Chapter 190: Even if I die, I shall transform into a dragon soul!
The First Emperor who came from the Lostbelt had been sealed inside boundless Chaos.
Golden eyes moved through nameless mist that flowed in every direction, watching a world that resembled the scene before creation. Everything was fog. Everything hovered between form and formlessness.
And he was here, unable to leave.
Contact Holy Body, contact failed.
Send message failed.
Disorder. Disorder.
A constant buzzing gnawed at the edge of thought.
Rowe's voice carried no malice, only certainty.
"Do not bother trying to reach your main body. It is useless. Once you are in here, even if it came in person, it could not leave. Much less you."
The First Emperor before him was not the main body.
This First Emperor, from a pruned Lostbelt, had already reached sanctification while his timeline still existed. His main body was a machine. Epang Palace. A computational core with processing power near Primeval specifications. It had once sat at the apex of his world, dominating all things, and he used it as the foundation to unify the Earth of that history.
Even after Human Order pruned that world and the Lostbelt vanished, that main body did not collapse. It fell into Imaginary Number Space and remained. From there, it connected to the countless immortal clones that had been released, serving as a hub for manufacturing Singularities.
It was a method he had used again and again. Unify the scattered shadows. Act across worlds. Plant distortions. Gather experimental data. Correct the next iteration.
But now, in this place, the method failed.
"Interesting." The Lostbelt Emperor laughed, loud enough to make the mist shiver. "So I have fallen into your schemes? This worldline truly is fascinating."
His gaze sharpened.
"Will you erase me?"
"You are a threat to our world," Ying Zheng answered.
The massive dragon shadow of the Ancestral Dragon still lingered in the haze behind him, and from within that shadow the tall silhouette of an Emperor stepped forward.
A crown sat on his head. His imperial robe bore the Xuanbird spreading its wings. One hand rested at the hilt of his sword. Beneath the curtain of pearls, his brows drew tight, sharp and deliberate. Golden eyes held the stare of a hunting bird. A moustache curled faintly at the corners of his mouth, giving his solemn majesty a dangerous edge.
Compared to him, the Lostbelt Emperor, pale and beardless, looked like a refined young master. A hermit. A scholar alchemist.
Not an Emperor.
As the Lostbelt Emperor had said himself, he left shadows in every parallel Great Qin he could reach, each one capable of birthing a Lostbelt.
To him, it was repetition. Experiment after experiment.
His own world had been pruned, yet he still believed he carried responsibility for Human Order. He had to find a path that was definitely viable. He had to find a worldline that could extend forever.
Perhaps his intent began as something that sounded noble.
But he never considered the people of each worldline.
Never considered that those people were living beings.
That was what Ying Zheng and Rowe could not tolerate.
Ying Zheng could not tolerate anyone steering his will.
Rowe could not tolerate Lostbelts.
Of course, the Ying Zheng of this world had not known at first that the National Preceptor was another version of himself. It was only after he stepped onto the path of dragon transformation and fused his existence with the Divine Land that his identity became clear. With the weight of a vast nation and the continent of the Nine Provinces in his grasp, it was not difficult to recognize the truth.
So he began to plot.
The spread of demons served this.
His confrontation with Rowe served this.
Now he faced the intruder directly.
"You ruled your world for two thousand years," Ying Zheng said, "but you forgot the most important part of being an Emperor."
The Lostbelt Emperor's gaze narrowed.
"The most important thing about the throne is not ability. Not power." Ying Zheng's voice carried a quiet certainty, like a sword being drawn. "It is how you employ people."
Employing. Managing. Directing those beneath you.
The foundation of ruling a nation.
But did the Lostbelt Emperor need any of that?
He did not.
His computational reach covered the entire surface of the planet. Any problem could be solved instantly with enough data and enough calculation. After completing his sanctified body, he needed no one.
He alone became a world.
"You are a saint," Ying Zheng continued, and the faint curve of his mouth held no kindness. "A god that judges all things. But you are no longer an Emperor."
The Lostbelt Emperor paused.
Something like nostalgia flickered in his eyes, as if an old room had been opened in a palace that no longer existed.
"The way an Emperor exists," he murmured.
"That is right." Ying Zheng nodded. "An Emperor should judge what the people cannot judge for themselves. An Emperor should lead them out of difficulties they cannot overcome."
"But the people must still have their own positions. Their own directions to move forward."
"As a king, what I must do is direct the strength of the many toward a single goal. Lead the Empire forward."
This was Ying Zheng of this world.
Similar to the Lostbelt Emperor, yet utterly different.
A debate between Emperors.
The young, idealistic Emperor.
And the perfected, aloof Emperor.
Before the Chaos core, infinite tendrils unfurled. Rowe reached out and plucked a golden dipper from one of them, using it as a cup. Fragrant wine spilled, and he drank without hurry.
His eyes narrowed.
He did not join the debate.
His position had been clear from the beginning.
Chaos had severed the Lostbelt Emperor's retreat. Cut the line back to Epang Palace in Imaginary Number Space. Left him without a route to escape.
Today, Rowe would join hands with Ying Zheng and pull him out of this world.
Sever him.
Let the world return to its proper course.
Let the people move toward their own fate.
"Interesting." The Lostbelt Emperor considered Ying Zheng's words, and the sound of his voice softened into something almost sincere. "Thoughts that make me nostalgic."
Then he looked at Ying Zheng.
"But your current form. Do you truly need anyone?"
"I do." Ying Zheng nodded, and he did not hesitate. "Because in this world, I am not the strongest."
"I still have equals."
"And more than that, I have seen the power of all beings."
The Lostbelt Emperor finally laughed again, and this time the laughter carried understanding.
"So that is it. Is this the root of the difference between you and me?"
The aloof Emperor stood on a height no one could reach. After completing his sanctified body, he rose into the ruler that judged all things.
But even after Ying Zheng here completed dragon transformation and unified the Divine Land, he was not invincible.
There were equals.
There was Heaven, standing across from him, able to speak to him.
Heaven believed that the destiny of the people belonged in their own hands.
So Ying Zheng did not believe he alone should judge everything. He did not believe he should decide the people's fate for them.
He was an Emperor.
An Emperor of the people.
And the Lostbelt Emperor, after the long erosion of time, had become an Emperor of himself.
That was the difference.
The divergence of the same existence across time and experience.
One difference. A world splitting twist.
So great they barely resembled one another.
The Lostbelt Emperor's smile sharpened again.
"You have sealed me. I cannot leave. But the change has already begun."
"The unification of the six states by Great Qin is a crucial point. If distorted, it will inevitably become a Lostbelt."
"Now the First Emperor has truly transformed into the Ancestral Dragon. Your body is fused with the Divine Land. Your existence shares an origin with the mountains and rivers of the Nine Provinces."
"Your existence is the greatest Lostbelt."
He tilted his head, almost amused.
"What will you do?"
Ying Zheng smiled as if the answer were obvious.
Then he looked at Rowe.
"Great Qin." His voice lowered. "I entrust it to you."
"The Heaven of my Great Qin. The Heaven of my Land."
The lord who unified the Nine Provinces bowed solemnly.
Rowe looked at him.
He already knew what Ying Zheng intended to do.
He said nothing more than two words.
"I will."
Ying Zheng laughed, and the laughter held relief.
"With your word, I am at ease."
"You ask what I should choose?" His head lifted. "Is my choice not the most natural one?"
A roar erupted.
A colossal dragon roar that raged through Chaos, pierced the Thirty Six Heavens, and descended into the vast human world.
On the Disk, the gathered immortals and gods lowered their gaze at once.
In the human world, countless beings felt it and looked up without understanding why.
In the great prison of Xianyang, someone coughed softly.
A young girl in white robes lifted her face, disbelief in her eyes.
"This is…"
"Do you understand now," someone before her murmured, "why the Emperor did not harm you after you tried to assassinate him?"
"This year, the Ancestral Dragon dies."
This year, the Ancestral Dragon dies.
Jing Ke, who had committed the unforgivable crime of attempting to kill the First Emperor and yet still lived, widened her eyes.
Would the Ancestral Dragon die?
Such an existence would not die unless he wished to.
Yes.
Unless he wished to.
At this moment, the hazy Chaos thinned, and Ying Zheng's colossal dragon shadow descended from the Thirty Six Heavens.
That massive shadow appeared in the present world. From far away, the dark clouds looked like endless scales rolling and surging.
The Ancestral Dragon was turning over.
And within those infinitely fine fragments, there was a broken corner.
A missing piece.
A gap.
The scar left by Jing Ke.
He had allowed her to injure him.
Because he meant to use her blade and the wound it carved to complete the final step of his dragon transformation.
From a visible dragon
to an invisible dragon.
From a tangible existence
to an intangible manifestation.
A voice spread from the Nine Heavens, vast enough to press against every heart.
"I unified the six states, brought all under one rule, and built the Great Wall to suppress the dragon veins of the Nine Provinces, to defend Great Qin and protect my nation."
"I stand here in the name of the First Emperor."
That was his will.
That was Ying Zheng.
This had always been the final step of his dragon transformation. The culmination of every thought that followed after he obtained the method from the Lostbelt Emperor.
He was the First Emperor.
The Emperor of the Ancestors.
If the concept of the Ancestor manifested through him, then the existence of the Ancestor must be lasting.
"While I live, I will defend the land and expand its borders, pacify the four barbarians, and establish the foundation of Great Qin for ten thousand generations."
"When I die, I will become a dragon soul and protect the land forever."
"This oath is witnessed by the sun and moon, attested by heaven and earth, and heard by immortals, demons, ghosts, and gods alike."
What he sought and what the Lostbelt Emperor sought were different from the beginning.
The Lostbelt Emperor pursued eternal rule. Eternal judgment.
Ying Zheng pursued eternal guardianship.
That even if his body died, his will would remain.
He was the First Emperor.
He sought unification under heaven, and after him, all future generations would be successors. Second generations. Third generations.
What he sought was that after him, every Emperor would be a dragon.
And he would be the Ancestral Dragon.
For the people.
For the world.
Radiant Qin. Radiant sun and moon.
"Farewell, First Emperor."
"Farewell, First Emperor."
"Farewell, First Emperor."
Across the lands that had once been Qin, Chu, Qi, Yan, Zhao, Wei, Han, now unified, a resonance rose.
Former enemies. Present rivals. Even immortals and gods in the heavens responded.
As Ying Zheng once imagined, an undertaking so grand that even the celestial immortals would acknowledge him.
In this moment, the people bowed as one.
In this moment, immortals and gods prostrated themselves.
In this moment, even the Lostbelt Emperor fell silent, solemn.
Today, the First Emperor dies.
And on this day, the vast Yan Huang returned to itself.
For though the First Emperor died, his soul could remain.
For unification had manifested as the Ancestral Dragon and merged into the consciousness of every person.
Ying Zheng became formless.
He became the concept of unification.
Rowe finally looked at the Lostbelt Emperor, whose silence had grown heavier with each word.
Admiration moved through him.
And something like envy, for the Ying Zheng who had chosen death in order to find a different kind of life.
The tendrils behind him coiled, unnecessary ones withdrawing. Distant drumbeats echoed in sequence, measured and slow, like a ritual done without needing witnesses.
Rowe spoke as if reciting a line from an old record, calm enough to be cruel.
"These people bow not because they are subdued."
"They bow because they choose to."
"These people are people. They are not your experiments."
"This land is Yan Huang, but it is our Yan Huang, not yours."
"You are called the First Emperor," Rowe continued, eyes steady. "But you have only a beginning and no continuation. One body and no successors."
"Therefore, in my eyes, you were never worthy of that title."
He let the words sit, then finished in a quieter voice, almost like a hymn.
"Today, the First Emperor is born."
"Today, the Ancestral Dragon dies."
.....
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