The golden mist did not disperse.
Instead, it gathered together—heavy and dense—like molten gold pouring down from the heavens.
“Crash.”
Rain fell.
But it was not water.
It was liquefied destiny, condensed spiritual essence.
The droplets landed on the green stone slabs of the Imperial Garden without splashing. Instead, they sank straight in.
The stones turned into jade.
The originally dull gray bricks instantly became translucent, emitting a warm, gentle white glow.
“Ah!!”
A scream erupted from the crowd.
It was Wang Jian.
The veteran general, who had survived countless battles, was clutching his right arm, his face flushed red.
The surrounding generals were startled.
“Old General!”
“Summon the imperial physician!”
Meng Yi was about to rush over, but Wang Jian shoved him away with a single palm.
The force was terrifying.
Even a fierce warrior like Meng Yi was forced back three steps, the stone tiles under his feet cracking.
“Don’t come near me!”
Wang Jian roared.
He tore off his armor, revealing a scarred right arm.
That injury had been left from the conquest of Chu—painful on rainy days, so severe he couldn’t even lift it.
But now.
That arm was cracking.
“Crackle—pop!”
Like frying beans.
Like dry wood exploding in fire.
Everyone could hear it clearly.
The dark purple scar tissue on Wang Jian’s arm began peeling away at a visible speed.
Black dead skin fell to the ground.
New flesh emerged—pink, but full of explosive strength.
“Roar!”
Wang Jian let out a long howl.
He smashed a punch into the white jade railing beside him.
“Boom!”
A stone pillar as thick as a thigh shattered like tofu.
Stone dust filled the air.
Wang Jian stared blankly at his fist.
No damage.
Not even a red mark.
“…It’s healed?”
His lips trembled.
He tried punching again.
The air exploded with a piercing whistle.
“My hand… is healed?”
“Not just healed!”
“I feel like I’ve returned to twenty years old!”
“No—!”
He clenched his fists; his joints cracked like thunder.
“I’m stronger than I was at twenty!”
“Even ten oxen—I could kill them with one punch!”
Not just him.
Meng Yi, Wang Ben, Li Xin…
The Qin killing generals all roared in shock and exhilaration.
Old arrow wounds healed.
Ten-year bottlenecks in martial cultivation shattered.
They stood in the golden rain, their blood energy surging into the sky, scattering the rain clouds above the garden.
“This is divine power…”
The Dawan Prince lay in the mud, trembling all over.
The small joy he had felt from inhaling a bit of spiritual mist had now turned into despair.
He watched Wang Jian smash a stone pillar with one punch.
Was that even human?
If one of their warriors took that blow, would there even be a corpse left?
“How can we fight this?”
He grabbed his hair, tearing his scalp.
“How do we fight them?!”
“Qin generals have turned into monsters!”
“What do we use against them?”
“Our heads?!”
No one paid attention to him.
Because something even more terrifying had happened.
The golden rain did not stay within the palace.
It drifted outward with the wind, spreading across every corner of Xianyang.
On the west side of the city.
In a rundown alley.
An old Qin soldier missing one leg leaned against a wall, basking in the sun.
He had been an elite warrior in his youth, losing his leg in battle.
“Is it raining?”
He wiped his face.
Golden rainwater flowed down his neck and into his clothes.
Heat.
Like fire burning at the severed leg.
“It itches!”
He clawed at the scar violently.
The itch was unbearable—like it was drilling into his bones.
He rolled on the ground in pain, his broken bowl shattering beside him.
“Ah!!”
He roared.
Then suddenly.
He stood up.
Steady.
Firmly standing.
He looked down.
The empty trouser leg was filled with strength.
The leg hadn’t regrown—but a strange force supported him, allowing him to stand like a normal man.
Even stronger than before.
“…I stood up.”
Tears mixed with golden rainwater streamed down his face.
“I… I can stand again!”
“I can fight for His Majesty again!”
The same miracles were happening across Xianyang.
In clinics, dying patients coughed out black blood and recovered.
In schools, children suddenly gained perfect memory.
They only needed to glance at Qin laws once, and they were engraved into their minds.
“Teacher!”
A runny-nosed child raised a bamboo slip.
“I memorized it!”
“I memorized it too!”
The children cheered and rushed into the rain.
They didn’t know what had happened.
But they knew one thing—they had become smarter, stronger.
The entire city of Xianyang was boiling.
This was not a festival.
This was rebirth.
A million citizens knelt in the muddy streets, letting the golden rain wash over their bodies.
Some couldn’t even bear to wipe the water from their faces.
Some opened their mouths, desperately drinking the falling rain.
Some used basins to catch it, buckets to store it.
“Long live!!”
No one knew who shouted it first.
Then—
The sound surged like a tsunami.
“Long live Great Qin!!”
“Long live His Majesty!!”
The roar shook the city walls.
In the Imperial Garden.
The Western Regions envoys, hearing the overwhelming chants outside, all turned ashen.
It was over.
Completely over.
If Qin had once been strong because of its armies, then now—
Everyone had ascended.
Even beggars on the roadside might be hidden experts.
What alliance of the remnants of the Six States?
A joke.
If news of this spread back to the Western Regions, the thirty-six kingdoms would probably send surrender letters overnight.
“I’m taking some back!”
The Kucha envoy suddenly went mad.
He pulled out a golden silk pouch from his robes.
Crawling on the ground, he frantically scooped up mud and stuffed it inside.
Mud soaked by the golden rain.
That was sacred earth.
“My mine!”
The Dawan Prince finally reacted too.
He kicked the Kucha envoy away and threw himself forward, grabbing a handful of black mud and shoving it straight into his mouth.
“Mine!”
“Eat it and I’ll become a god!”
“I am a god!”
His mouth was full of mud, chewing wildly, laughing like a madman.
All royal dignity was gone.
He looked like a rabid dog fighting over scraps.
Ying Ziye stood nearby, still holding a handful of sunflower seeds.
“Tch.”
He shook his head and spat shells onto the ground.
“No ambition.”
“Fighting over bathwater like this.”
“If you saw what’s coming next, you’d probably dig your own eyes out.”
At that moment, the golden dragon in the sky moved.
It had completed its mission.
Its massive body rolled once through the clouds, releasing a satisfied low roar.
Then—
It turned into countless strands of golden light and slowly dispersed.
No.
It did not disperse.
It merged.
It merged into the mountains, rivers, and land of Great Qin itself.
Ying Zheng slowly descended from the sky.
The moment his feet touched the ground—
“Crack!”
Within a radius of ten zhang, the green stone tiles instantly turned to dust.
A terrifying pressure spread outward from him.
Even the air became heavy and viscous.
Li Si was closest and was forced straight onto the ground, unable to lift his head.
“Your Majesty…”
His voice trembled.
This was fear from the depths of the soul.
At this moment, Ying Zheng was no longer merely a mortal emperor.
He carried the true aura of a Human Sovereign.
Ying Zheng restrained his aura and clenched his fist, feeling the surging power within him like a great river.
That sensation—of absolute control—was intoxicating.
He turned and looked at Fusu.
Fusu stood in the rain.
The bloodlust that once clung to him had vanished.
His eyes, once unstable from too much killing, were now clear like a deep still lake.
But the sword in his hand had become even colder.
That was a sharpened edge after purification.
“Father.”
Fusu bowed slightly.
His voice was no longer hoarse, but carried the clarity of metal.
“I understand now.”
“Killing is not the goal.”
“Killing exists to protect this golden rain.”
Ying Zheng nodded in satisfaction.
This was the heir of Great Qin.
This was his son.
“Good.”
He spoke one word.
Then he looked beyond the palace walls, toward the boiling city of Xianyang.
“Ziye.”
Ying Ziye patted the dust from his hands and walked over lazily.
“What?”
“Is this your gift to me?”
Ying Zheng gestured toward the cheering city and the transformed land.
Ziye shrugged.
He pulled out a handkerchief and casually wiped the rain from his face like it was sweat.
“This doesn’t even count as a gift.”
He tossed the handkerchief away.
It landed perfectly over the Dawan prince’s face, covering his mud-filled mouth.
“Father.”
He turned and walked toward the palace hall with small steps, hands behind his back.
Without looking back, he said casually:
“This is just the beginning.”
“First we lay the foundation.”
“In a couple of days, we’ll go flatten that so-called Roman Empire and the Lizard Kingdom.”
“We’ll take their heads and use them as decorations for our new house.”
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