Three Years of Daily Summoning — Final Totals
⟡ Core Military ⟡
Divine Soldiers
125,000,000 / day × 1,095
→ 136,875,000,000
Ancestral Lords.
Hundreds of billions.
Elite Divine Soldiers
12,500,000 / day
→ 13,687,500,000
Divine Cavalry
15,000,000 / day
→ 16,425,000,000
Divine Captains
6,250,000 / day
→ 6,843,750,000
Divine Commanders
1,250,000 / day
→ 1,368,750,000
Divine Generals
125,000 / day
→ 136,875,000
Divine Marshals
20,000 / day
→ 21,900,000
1-Star Heavenly Generals
→ 2,500 total
1-Star Heavenly Marshals
500 / day
→ 547,500
Low-Level Heavenly Kings
7,500 / day
→ 8,212,500
Mid-Level Heavenly Kings
750 / day
→ 821,250
Imperial Guard ⟡
Dragon Guards
7,500 / day
→ 8,212,500
Dragon Guard Commanders
200 / day
→ 219,000
Elder Hall
Low-Level Elders
187,500 / day
→ 205,312,500
Mid-Level Elders
100,000 / day
→ 109,500,000
High-Level Elders
15,000 / day
→ 16,425,000
Supreme Elders
4,500 / day
→ 4,927,500
Core Elders
1,500 / day
→ 1,642,500
Sequence Elders
150 / day
→ 164,250
Ancient Elders
30 / day
→ 32,850
[National Power Increased]
[Current National power: 350,000,000 power+The final report hovered silently.
No alarms.
No celebration.
Just cold truth.
Three years.
One thousand ninety-five days.
And the result—
An empire whose numbers no longer fit inside common sense.
Hundreds of billions of Ancestral Lords.
Millions of Dao-level elders.
Ancient existences produced daily.
Three years of daily sign-ins.
No interruptions.
No missed cycles.
Now came the part he actually cared about.
The spoils.
Counting the Sign-In Rewards
Feng Hao waved his hand.
Space unfolded.
Treasure after treasure surfaced—not exploding outward, not glowing dramatically—just existing, heavy with authority.
He counted aloud, quietly, like a cultivator reviewing pills after alchemy.
Myth & Immortal Structures
The first layer appeared.
Massive shadows.
Buildings—not palaces—but laws shaped into architecture.
"…Two hundred Myth-Level buildings."
Each one radiated a presence that warped nearby Dao flow.
Even inactive, they felt like sleeping mountains.
Some were:
Dao Refinement Towers
Fate Stabilization Halls
Heavenly War Foundries
Ancestral Law Archives
Then came the next wave.
"…One thousand five hundred Immortal-Grade buildings."
These were quieter.
But their foundations were terrifyingly solid.
Placed correctly, a single one could support a Not Regions but domains indefinitely.
An Ancient Elder watching from afar sucked in a breath.
Cultivation & Infrastructure Resources
Next came the cards.
Thirty thin jade slips floated forward.
"Thirty cultivation improvement cards."
No description needed.
These weren't insights.
They were forced refinement, capable of polishing realms without damaging foundation.
He didn't smile.
He stored them.
Then—
Three hundred dark-gold stones clinked together midair.
"Barracks upgrade stones."
Feng Hao paused slightly.
"…These are dangerous."
An elder blinked.
"You're worried?"
"They'll scale the output," Feng Hao replied calmly.
"And I already have enough."
The elder laughed dryly.
"…That sentence alone is terrifying."
Spirit Veins & Formations
The chamber brightened.
Veins—actual veins—coiled in the air like living dragons.
Gold.
Azure.
Void-black.
Primal purple.
"…Five hundred Spirit Veins," Feng Hao counted, eyes steady.
"All types."
Any single one could make a mortal region holy ground.
He didn't react.
Next—
Three hundred formation cores manifested.
"Three hundred formations."
Defensive.
Offensive.
Territorial.
Annihilation-grade.
Feng Hao exhaled softly.
"…Placement alone will take years."
Divine Lifeforms
The air warmed.
Remembered heat.
Thirty eggs appeared.
Each one different.
Each one alive.
"…Thirty Divine Beast eggs."
Some pulsed slowly.
Some beat like hearts.
One cracked space around it just by existing.
An elder murmured:
"These aren't mounts."
Feng Hao nodded.
"They're future disasters."
Luck, Authority, and Beasts of Rule
A single token drifted forward.
Unassuming.
No aura.
Yet every elder stiffened.
"…Luck boosting token."
Feng Hao stared at it for a long moment.
Then quietly said:
"…I'll use this last."
No one argued.
Then—
The chamber roared.
Nine colossal shadows descended from above, coiling through layers of space.
Golden scales.
Divine pupils.
Imperial pressure.
Nine Golden Divine Dragons.
All of them lowered their heads.
Not in submission.
In recognition.
"…They're linked," an elder whispered.
Feng Hao closed his eyes briefly.
"I know."
Their cultivation rose and fell with his breath.
If he advanced—
They advanced.
If he fell—
They would drag the world down with him.
Final Relic
Last—
The space split cleanly.
A chariot emerged.
Not large.
Not flashy.
But the moment it appeared—
The Dao made room.
White-gold frame.
Runes like moving stars.
Wheels forged from condensed authority.
"…The Heavenly Emperor's Chariot."
Silence
Nothing else appeared.
No hidden rewards.
No delayed triggers.
Feng Hao sat there, surrounded by enough resources to end eras.
He rested his elbows on his knees.
"…So that's the harvest."
An elder shook his head slowly.
"Junior."
"Yes?"
"…If word of this leaks—"
Feng Hao cut him off gently.
"It won't."
A pause.
"…And if it does?"
Feng Hao looked up.
His eyes were calm.
"Then they'll learn."
Outside — The World Still Hasn't Caught Up
Far beyond the Three Thousand Immortal Island—
Players argued.
Dynasties hesitated.
Heavens adjusted rules.
None of them knew—
That while they were reacting to power—
Feng Hao had just finished counting tools.
And for the first time since waking from seclusion—
He smiled faintly.
"…Alright."
"Now it's actually getting interesting."
The nine Golden Divine Dragons lowered their heads further.
Not to Feng Hao.
To the chariot.
A soft, ancient resonance echoed through the chamber as chains of condensed Dao-gold formed naturally, linking dragon to axle, scale to wheel.
The Heavenly Emperor's Chariot did not command them.
It recognized them.
Nine dragons.
One chariot.
The dragons coiled into position, massive bodies aligning with perfect symmetry. When they exhaled together, the space ahead of the chariot flattened—as if reality itself was being prepared for travel.
Feng Hao stepped forward.
The moment his foot touched the chariot's platform—
The Nine Dragons roared.
Not violently.
Joyfully.
The sound rolled outward, crossing the island, piercing formation layers, leaking into the heavens beyond.
The First Ripples
In the Nine God Dynasty's territories—
Divine Generals paused mid-command.
Divine Marshals halted battles that hadn't yet begun.
Even the Elder Hall went silent.
They felt it.
Not pressure.
Movement.
"He's… stepping out," a Supreme Elder said slowly.
Another elder laughed under his breath.
"Of course he is. He never stays still after counting gains."
Envoys Begin to Arrive
They came without summons.
Without schedules.
As if instinct itself had issued an order.
Spirit-Level Sub-Dynasties
The first envoys appeared kneeling at the borders of the capital region.
Spirit Tier 3 dynasties.
Former hegemonic forces.
Now vassals—willing ones.
"Envoy of the Azure Sun Spirit Dynasty," one announced, forehead touching the ground.
"We congratulate the Nine God Emperor on successful seclusion and Dao completion."
Behind him, gifts formed mountains:
Spirit cores older than eras
Refined law fragments
Entire sealed ruins offered without conditions
No bargaining.
Just offering.
Newly Elevated Mortal Dynasties
Next came the mortal-origin dynasties.
Once Tier 12.
Now Spirit-Level.
Their envoys were nervous. Awed.
Some were shaking.
"Your Majesty—no—Ancestor—"
The envoy swallowed.
"We offer loyalty renewed. The pills you granted… changed our fate."
Feng Hao did not look down on them.
He nodded once.
That single nod made the envoy cry.
Military Salutes
Across the dynasty—
Divine Soldiers knelt in unison.
Not ordered.
They just… did.
Divine Captains slammed fists to chests.
Divine Commanders lowered banners.
Divine Generals bowed with hands clasped.
Even the Heavenly Kings straightened, expressions solemn.
"This isn't celebration," a Marshal murmured.
"This is acknowledgment."
The Chariot Begins Its Circuit
The Heavenly Emperor's Chariot did not tear through space.
It traveled.
Nine Golden Divine Dragons pulled it forward at a measured pace, their bodies coiling through the heavens like living constellations. Wherever they passed, space flattened gently, allowing the chariot to move without resistance—as if the world itself had decided not to get in the way.
Feng Hao had not issued an order.
Yet the route formed naturally.
Two hundred regions.
One by one.
First Region — Former Core Spirit Domain
The chariot descended slowly.
Not into the capital.
Above it.
The sky dimmed—not darkened, but softened, as if reality lowered its voice.
Below, an entire Spirit-Level region froze.
Divine Generals stopped mid-sentence.
Sect Masters forgot how to speak.
Millions looked up at once.
They didn't feel pressure.
They felt recognition.
"That's… the Emperor's chariot."
"No—look at the dragons."
"Nine of them…"
Someone whispered, almost reverently:
"He's checking us."
Feng Hao stood, resting one hand on the rail.
He didn't release aura.
Didn't scan.
Didn't judge.
He simply looked.
And somehow, everyone felt seen.
Spirit veins hummed brighter.
Formations stabilized on their own.
Disordered Dao fields aligned without being touched.
A Divine General swallowed hard.
"…We're fine," he muttered.
"He's not here to correct us."
The chariot rose again.
Second Region — Newly Formed Sub-Dynasty
This region was young.
Too young to be confident.
Cities were still expanding.
Cultivators still argued over jurisdiction.
New Spirit Lords still hadn't learned when to stay quiet.
When the chariot appeared, panic nearly erupted.
Then—
One of the Golden Dragons lowered its head slightly.
Just slightly.
The region stabilized instantly.
Arguments ended.
Competing formations synchronized.
A Spirit Lord mid-breakthrough succeeded on the spot.
Someone laughed nervously.
"…So this is what backing feels like."
Feng Hao nodded once.
Not approval.
Encouragement.
Regions Three to Thirty
The pattern repeated.
Not destruction.
Not inspection.
Presence.
In an old battlefield region, lingering resentment dissolved.
In a trade-heavy domain, contracts sealed themselves.
In a cultivation region, bottlenecks loosened like knots undone by warm hands.
Divine Marshals riding escort formations began to realize something unsettling.
"He's not enforcing law," one murmured.
"He is the alignment point."
Midway — Region 100
This region had once been rebellious.
Not openly.
But quietly resistant.
When the chariot arrived, the regional lords knelt instantly.
No speeches.
No excuses.
Feng Hao finally spoke.
His voice carried, calm and unforced.
"If you're afraid, fix it."
That was all.
No threat.
No punishment.
The region exhaled.
Within days, internal restructuring began—voluntary, thorough, sincere.
The Mortal-Origin Regions
When the chariot passed over the former mortal dynasties—
The reaction was different.
Children pointed.
Mortals bowed clumsily.
Cultivators wept openly.
A city elder fell to his knees, voice shaking.
"He… didn't forget us."
Feng Hao looked down.
For the first time on the tour, he smiled faintly.
Final Regions — The Outer Edge
The last regions were quiet.
Strong.
Alert.
They had grown fast.
Too fast.
When the chariot arrived, they did not kneel immediately.
They watched.
Measured.
Then one by one—
They bowed.
Not because they had to.
Because now they understood who they belonged to.
End of the Tour
After the two-hundredth region, the chariot rose above the dynasty.
Nine dragons coiled, forming a celestial ring.
Feng Hao remained standing.
No proclamation.
No announcement.
Yet across two hundred regions—
Everyone felt the same thing.
We are seen.
We are connected.
We are… held.
An Elder spoke softly from afar.
"…He didn't conquer them."
Another answered.
"He adopted them."
The chariot turned slowly back toward the capital.
And somewhere far beyond the borders—
Other forces began to panic.
Because this wasn't expansion.
This was consolidation.