Speaking of which, he was currently playing the role of Xiang Yu, right?
Then why was the Fusang Tree part of the rewards?
Xiang Yu didn't seem to have any connection to the Fusang Tree.
If the Fusang Tree had been a reward for role-playing as the First Emperor, that would've made sense.
After all, in Fate, the First Emperor's character had interacted with the Fusang Tree, analyzing it to obtain the method of ascension and ultimately creating artificial immortals.
But in reality, while Xiang Yu was one of the roles being played, the rewards didn't include the Fusang Tree.
There were two rewards: the Kuaiji Zero-type Blueprint and the skill Future Precognition.
The Fusang Tree had actually been a reward from the previous role-play before entering Xiang Yu's character—that role being the First Emperor.
So, didn't this raise a problem?
Weren't the First Emperor and Xiang Yu figures from the same era?
Historically, the First Emperor was recorded as living between 259–210 BCE, while Xiang Yu's lifespan was 232–202 BCE.
Their timelines overlapped by over two decades—they coexisted in the same period. So what was going on here?
Could it be that in this world's true history, the two never actually lived in the same era? That there was no overlapping time?
Did Xiang Yu not even exist in this world before the First Emperor's death?
No—the truth was, they were contemporaries.
The reason? This time, he was controlling two roles simultaneously.
Before the First Emperor's role had concluded, the system assigned him a second character, meaning he had to manipulate two bodies at once—dividing his attention. It was quite the test of skill.
While acting as the First Emperor, he had consolidated power shortly after formally inheriting the throne.
In truth, he could've launched the conquests of Han, Zhao, Wei, Chu, Yan, and Qi much earlier—there was no need to wait until 230 BCE.
And he believed it shouldn't have taken nearly ten years.
He could've accomplished all of it ahead of schedule.
The reason he didn't? Because moving too fast might disrupt the role-play progress bar.
Though he suspected that even if he did, the bar wouldn't regress.
The real reason he somewhat adhered to history was to buy time.
And why did he need to stall? Because he had unexpectedly discovered the entrance to the celestial realm and obtained the Fusang Tree as a reward.
Then, he created the World Tree seed, using the celestial realm as fertilizer to accelerate its growth—giving birth to an entirely new space, one beyond the reach of this universe's Akashic Records. It was, in essence, the birth of a new cosmos.
But this newborn universe was pitifully small—just a single sun and a single Earth.
But this new Earth was actually quite similar to the main universe's Earth in terms of environment—all the expected animals were present, except for humans.
This change occurred because he had adjusted it through his own Akashic Records.
Furthermore, the relationship between the two universes, large and small, was somewhat akin to microorganisms parasitizing a human body.
Just as humans know microorganisms exist on their bodies but can't immediately identify specific new ones, the main universe likely hadn't noticed either—unless the disturbance became too great.
Thus, with this nearly parallel version of Earth, he could afford to stall for time.
Following the example of the celestial beings who had relocated before, he used a war as cover to quietly move a portion of humanity, conducting a large-scale migration.
But now that the gods of the celestial realm had already fled, was there still a need for such secrecy?
Absolutely. While the celestial gods were gone, the deities of other mythologies hadn't vanished. He had to ensure they didn't detect any anomalies here.
Back during the Shang Dynasty, when the celestial gods intervened, they had alarmed the gods of other pantheons.
But any external deities who crossed the boundary were ruthlessly slaughtered by the celestial beings, who issued a stern warning: any god who overstepped would be reduced to cosmic dust without mercy.
Terrified by these fanatical celestial gods, the deities of other mythologies had heeded the warning ever since, never again setting foot in the human territories under celestial jurisdiction.
But now, would they still honor that agreement? Could some be unable to resist sneaking across the border?
This was Renji's greatest concern.
Even after unifying the six states under Qin, no issues arose. The migration involved roughly three million people.
Following the unification, the Qin Dynasty was officially established. By the time he declared himself emperor, the progress had reached the threshold for the second reward.
This second reward was somewhat similar to Solomon's development of magecraft—it granted him the knowledge to advance electronic technology through celestial arts.
Thus, after first developing certain innovations based on celestial techniques, he accelerated the Qin Dynasty's industrial revolution, pushing it toward the machine age.
Of course, he had no intention of truly industrializing this universe's Qin—that would undoubtedly alert the other mythologies.
Instead, he would carry out these advancements in his own small parallel world.
However, there was a problem: initially, the productivity of the small parallel world lagged far behind this one. So, he would first develop things here to a certain extent before gradually transferring them over.
Later, the so-called fall of the Qin Dynasty was actually part of a plan orchestrated by one of his identities—Xiang Yu.
On the surface, it was the collapse of Qin, but in truth, it was about erasing traces that didn't belong in this era.
Throughout the Qin Dynasty's rise and fall, Renji's biggest headache remained the possibility of gods from other mythologies crossing the boundary.
One or two deities he could handle—if they stepped into Xianyang, he wouldn't give them a chance. Instantly, the branches of the World Tree from the small parallel world would pierce through, drag them in, and consume them as nourishment.
However, having too many gods would be troublesome, and if too many gods mysteriously disappeared, it might alert the others. If they still couldn't find them, they might resort to using the Akashic Records to investigate.
This was another headache for him—the Akashic Records of this world.
Couldn't he just ask the Seventy-Two Demon Gods for help? To avoid unnecessary complications, he dismissed the idea.
Moreover, he didn't want the Seventy-Two Demon Gods—or even Belial—to learn certain secrets. He didn't want those secrets exposed.
If they were accidentally revealed, the entire human history might be placed under strict surveillance just to root him out.
Thus, the two problems troubling him were resolved once Brunhilde came to him.
And he was certain she would come!
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