"Is this just a dream I had, or did a true Lord God really manifest? But which deity could it be—was it the Great Emperor of the Eastern Peak, or His Majesty Haotian...?"

The scholar murmured to himself for a while, then suddenly looked at the back of his hand, where the rune representing "eruption" among the four runes was faintly glowing, as if with a glassy radiance. For a moment, he was completely entranced.

Just then, the sound of hoofbeats arose. The scholar immediately stood up in alarm and saw, not far away, more than a dozen riders approaching. These knights were people Charles Harris could never forget, even in death—they were the very ones who had attacked his group.

In fact, there were only a little over a dozen knights, while their own group had nearly a hundred people, with more than fifty family guards among them. Yet... except for a very few, none dared to resist. Judging by their attire, these knights were all locals, and even if not, they were Xiongnu or other nomads, far beyond what the Jin people could handle. In the end, just a dozen or so of them slaughtered everyone, and only he managed to escape with his life. Now, there was nowhere left to hide.

"So be it. If I must die, then let it be death."

Just as the scholar was about to close his eyes and await death, he suddenly heard wails of agony. Looking closely, he saw that behind those knights, a dozen or so people were being dragged along—old and young, the youngest only four or five years old, their bodies already battered and torn, who knows how long they'd been dragged. Of those still alive, only two or three men remained, but judging by their condition, they wouldn't survive much longer.

The knights also saw the scholar. They howled and laughed strangely, and one of them took out a lasso, preparing to rope the scholar. As the scholar watched all this unfold, a surge of energy suddenly welled up in his chest.

"You are Chinese, you are Han. Stop calling yourself a Jin. And those who kill you—you may kill them. Do not close your eyes and await death..."

The scholar murmured, "Chinese, Han... Is that the Han who declared, 'Whoever offends the mighty Han, no matter how far, must be punished'?"

"Han..."

"I am Han!"

The nomad was already upon him. The scholar suddenly shouted, roaring as he thrust his palm forward, while the incantation of the Shangqing Immortal-Slaying Art echoed in his mind.

In an instant, a wave of energy swept out. The nomad on horseback, grinning savagely, was vaporized on the spot, along with at least seven or eight others behind him.

The scholar Charles Harris stood tall, while the remaining nomads stared in stunned silence. The entire scene was utterly still.

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Chapter 10: Choice

Henry Clark exited the Lord God Space, and before his eyes was still the grassland—he was still in the place where he had been hunting wind-mice. Everything that had just happened seemed like a dream.

"No, it wasn't a dream. That was real. The first-generation Lord God Space? Looks like my future holds great promise."

Ever since Henry Clark transmigrated from Earth to the world of Honghuang, he had always been extremely cautious. The world of Honghuang was simply too terrifying. In terms of technology, even if the Earth developed for another thousand years, it might not catch up. In terms of power, supernatural forces reigned supreme. As a transmigrator, he was nothing but an ant in Honghuang. If anyone discovered he was a transmigrator—especially one who came from a world without magic to the only world with super-magic—being dissected for research would be the least of his worries. The Honghuang Heavenly Court government had countless means involving the soul, karma, fate, and more. At that point, he would truly never be reborn.

Because of this, during the several months since he crossed into Honghuang, Henry Clark hadn't even dared to leave town. Every day, he just searched for all kinds of information online. The more he researched, the more terrified he became, but at the same time, a fire of ambition began to burn in his heart.

Even though there were no detailed records, only scattered words and phrases, the highest beings in the Honghuang Heavenly Court government—whether saints or immortals—could seize stars and pluck the moon, live forever, and even, according to legend, the highest among them could travel through time and space. All this made Henry Clark feel as if he were dreaming. If he could become a saint or immortal, wouldn't he be able to do the same? He might even be able to return to his original world.

But that was far, far too difficult.

From what Henry Clark learned online, the population report of the Honghuang Heavenly Court government for that year was 7,168 trillion... What kind of concept is that? Not ten thousand, not a hundred million, but trillion as the unit—and as many as 7,168 trillion!

With such a massive population, and who knows how many tens of thousands of years of accumulation, the number of saints in the Honghuang Heavenly Court government was estimated to be only in the tens of thousands, maybe even less, because Henry Clark didn't know the exact number, and there was no concrete data online. The reason he guessed there were tens of thousands of saints was because the number of parliamentarians in the Honghuang Heavenly Court Congress was over 18,000. Henry Clark didn't know if those parliamentarians were all saints, but there was a story circulating online: about two hundred years ago, someone became a saint and immediately became a member of parliament. So Henry Clark just assumed so—at most, there were only a bit over ten thousand saints.

There might be more immortals, but definitely not as many as a hundred thousand.

All this made Henry Clark realize just how slim the chances of becoming a saint or immortal were. To say it was like "a thousand troops crossing a single-log bridge" would be an understatement. He didn't think he had the talent to become a saint or immortal.

But now, with this first-generation Lord God Space, perhaps becoming a saint or immortal was no longer just a dream.