In the 37,671st year of the Divine Calendar, Linley led five thousand pirates to conquer the island of Banches, home to over two million people, destroyed the Sakatekaz Empire, and established his own kingdom.
At the same time, he himself had advanced to Demigod, stepping across the threshold into the upper echelons of the world of the gods.
Only then did people discover with astonishment that Linley, who had accomplished such earth-shattering feats, was merely a twenty-six-year-old youth—yet had already risen to a height that demanded one to look up in awe.
Near the new capital, named "Faolan," elite Devil Hunters and native cavalry escorted a procession of luxurious carriages on a tour of inspection.
On the banners of the convoy and cavalry flew the empire's great serpent insignia, symbolizing the authority of the imperial house.
"The plague has been eradicated, and the spring plowing is well underway—it looks like things are going quite well!"
Linley opened the carriage window and gazed out at the verdant furrows stretching across the fields, a hint of satisfaction surfacing on his face.
The other beautiful native handmaidens and the saintess
The empire must be ruled by those of divine blood—this was the doctrine proclaimed by Linley's Great Serpent Church.
To better consolidate his foundation, it was preferable for this Son of God himself to carry native blood. Therefore, almost immediately after the kingdom's founding, the entire island of Banches had selected twenty of its most pure, beautiful, and noble-hearted maidens to be sent into the royal palace—and this practice showed no signs of stopping.
As for this, Linley had never turned anyone away. After all, they were quite pleasing to his taste.
This tour, then, was an exercise in projecting imperial power and displaying might to the entire empire, while also serving as a measure of winning hearts and minds.
After touring the entirety of the island of Banches, Linley had gained a far deeper understanding of its actual conditions.
At the same time, the empire's strength and majesty had been deeply imprinted in the hearts of all the natives.
"The soil here is the most fertile, and it's right near the capital—such results are only to be expected..."
Barbara's eyes flashed as she chimed in from the side.
"To have that kind of insight is rather good. Especially that little scheme of yours..."
Linley saw through his follower's little stratagem as clearly as looking at his own palm, and hearing her words, he felt a mix of amusement and exasperation.
Yet this, too, was part and parcel of the path of faith—something that demanded Linley's careful deliberation.
"If this trend continues, this year's famine should pass without any major disaster..."
After inspecting the entire nation, Rayleigh's mood improved considerably. Although the earlier plague had dealt a severe blow to social order, various production activities were gradually recovering. Thanks to the accumulated resources of the former Sakatkazi Empire, the entire nascent empire was steadily developing in a better direction.
"To measure an empire's strength, it comes down to population, agriculture, economy, military power, and finally, faith..."
Rayleigh stroked his chin. "Militarily, the central government retains only fifty thousand standing troops. On Bankes Island, with a total population of barely nine hundred thousand, that already makes us the undisputed dominant force. Any more would only create financial headaches..."
"Agriculture and the economy are both in ruins—recovery won't happen overnight. But the most critical factor, above all else, is faith..."
At this point, the totem spirits and nature spirits across the entirety of Bankes Island had already suffered devastating blows at Rayleigh's hands. Any who refused to submit were directly annihilated, and the same fate befell their tribes.
Meanwhile, a portion of the nature spirits—led by the demigod Golden Scorpion—had pledged themselves to Rayleigh's service, claiming a share of the empire's faith.
Rayleigh was perfectly content with this arrangement. After all, his own faction held the lion's share—eighty percent of the empire's faith flowed to him directly. The remaining nature spirits who had bent the knee could only divide the leftover twenty percent among themselves.
Moreover, given his true nature as a demigod, the priests and divine arts at his disposal far surpassed anything those indigenous deities could muster. He held an overwhelming advantage in the competition and had no reason to fear measuring himself against them.
In all likelihood, by the time things settled, the faith of these defecting deities would be squeezed even further, until they had no choice but to cling tightly to his side.
"As for imperial governance, those original pirates have been rewarded handsomely—land, slaves, and noble titles. Yet compared to the indigenous chieftains and nobles who already inhabited Bankes Island, their numbers are still far too few..."
Rayleigh shook his head.
In terms of who actually held positions of authority, the indigenous population within the empire was staggering, while the true outsiders who had followed him as their leader numbered fewer than five thousand! It was a terrifying disparity, like a single drop of water against an entire lake.
Rayleigh had no doubt that if he did nothing, within thirty years the grassroots governance of the entire empire would inevitably fall into indigenous hands, and his people of foreign origin would be absorbed—willingly or not.
To truly change this, colonization and culling would need to go hand in hand: transplanting mainlanders from the Faolan Islands while eliminating indigenous populations to maintain the stability of their rule.
Unfortunately, Rayleigh's role was not that of a mere ruler. Or rather, his identity as a deity took absolute precedence in his considerations!
Therefore, large-scale slaughter aimed at reducing the native population would only diminish the faith he received—a direct contradiction of his own interests.
During the conquest, these people had been enemies, and naturally reducing their numbers made sense. But now they had become part of his own potential power source; mass killing had largely lost its purpose.
For a deity, so long as the faith flowed in equally, it mattered not the slightest whether the empire was ruled by natives or outsiders.
With the Church's support behind him, his descendants would never be reduced to mere figureheads or puppets. That was more than sufficient!
"There are no eternal empires, but there are gods who live forever!"
Lin Ray murmured the words to himself. Compared to the impossibly long lifespan of gods, even the most glorious and resplendent empires in history seemed desperately brief—a flower that blooms and withers in a single night.
[Ding! Today's prayer response complete! A total of 348,761 prayers processed! 13,286 divine spell slots granted!]
Right on cue, a Chip notification window popped up in his vision, drawing a faint smile to the corner of Lin Ray's lips.
Processing the daily prayers of his believers and bestowing divine spells upon his priests was a deity's essential routine. While his current divine soul and consciousness could handle it on their own, it would be an enormous burden—and he certainly wouldn't be able to travel about so leisurely.
This was especially true given that his believers numbered over nine hundred thousand, nearly rivaling some true gods. The workload generated was staggeringly vast and tedious.
But the Chip had taken that cumbersome burden off his hands entirely, saving Lin Ray an immense amount of effort.
True gods, to handle their heavy workload, found that even a main body and incarnations weren't enough—they were forced to establish lesser deities and subservient gods within their divine realms. The Chip now performed precisely that role, and it did so better than most gods' own subordinates. It also earned far more of Lin Ray's trust, since there was simply no possibility of it ever turning traitor.
"Your Majesty!"
The moment he returned to the imperial palace, a crowd of youthful and beautiful maids rushed to greet him. Most of them bared their arms and midriffs, showing off smooth, vibrant skin, their eyes filled with eager warmth.
Beyond the young women offered as tribute from various tribes, the maids serving in Lin Ray's palace were clearly exceptional in their own right—some even carried minor noble or chieftain bloodlines.
Under ordinary circumstances, Lin Ray wouldn't have minded enjoying a few passionate and friendly exchanges with them, but today he clearly had more important matters to attend to.
At the original highest peak of the imperial capital, where Akban's temple had once stood, the structure had already been converted into the headquarters of the Great Serpent Church that worshipped Lin Ray.
Now, Lin Ray stood at the very spot where the old altar had been, gazing down at a massive black rock set into the pedestal.
Its surface carried a metallic sheen, resembling nothing so much as a black brick, but Lin Ray's sharp senses detected something entirely different about it.
In truth, had he not destroyed the statue of Akban that sat atop it, this object would never have revealed itself.
"So I've finally found it… Akban's stored wealth?"
Lin Ray pressed his fingers against the surface of the black stone, and immediately his divine consciousness connected with a vast space. The air within was laced with divine power that was already beginning to dissipate, and countless translucent souls lay blanketed across the ground like sleepers in slumber, some still slowly fading away.
"The souls of Akban's former believers… I didn't expect Him to have been so fortunate as to find a demi-plane to house them all. The demi-plane isn't much in terms of volume, but it's still far better than any ordinary divine artifact…"
Receiving and sheltering the souls of believers was a god's sacred duty. Devout souls, whether transformed into divine servants, heroes, or holy spirits, were invaluable helpers and a god's deep reserves of power—naturally, they were not something to be discarded lightly.
Demigods did not possess their own divine kingdoms, so many of them simply constructed a divine-grade artifact or similar container to store the souls of their believers. Akban had been luckier—he had found a demi-plane.
"There are at least a million souls…"
After estimating the exact number, Lin Ray was once again astonished by the depth of Akban's reserves.
A demi-plane was no divine kingdom. No matter how well it was protected, the souls of believers would continue to dissipate over time. Moreover, only the most devout believers had been guided here by Akban, which excluded a great number of natives with only vague faith. The fall of Akban had also caused a large portion of souls to perish outright. The ones that remained were the elite among the elite—the essence of tens of millions of native souls that had perished over the five hundred years of the empire!
"This is the true foundation of a god. Compared to this, I am far too weak…"
Lin Ray sighed, then turned his gaze to the demi-plane before him.
These believer souls clearly worshipped Akban alone and held little practical use for Lin Ray, unless he annihilated them all to extract their spiritual essence—but that would be far too wasteful.
In truth, his greatest gain from this expedition was none other than this demi-plane itself.