Under the cold gaze of the Star Destroyer "Qin Shi Huang," an unprecedented "formatting" operation targeting a specific bloodline swept across the vast continent known as the "Great Qing" with a precision and ruthlessness akin to surgery.

The Empire's "Purification Legion" is like a tireless grim reaper, silently traversing every inch of land.

On their helmets, genetic scanners gleamed with a pale blue light. This light was harmless to the vast majority of people on this land, but for another group, it was the final judgment of the apocalypse.

Any creature identified as possessing the "money rat tail aristocrat" gene sequence, regardless of its finery, the size of its mansion, its age, or its gender, will be dealt with in only one way—on-site purification.

There were no screams, no wails, not even bloodshed. A beam of high-energy particles flashed by, and the living organism was completely decomposed at the molecular level, turning into a wisp of harmless smoke and the most basic carbon element, returning to the land where they once ravaged it.

The once invincible mansion of the Iron-Capped Prince was transformed into a huge, glassy crater by the targeted elimination of antimatter bombs, along with all the bloodlines identified as "sources of contamination."

Those so-called sons and grandsons of the dragon, those pampered princesses and consorts, didn't even have time to utter a cry of alarm before they, along with their gold, silver, jewels, pavilions, and towers, became dust in the annals of history.

Those Manchu bannermen who once rode on the backs of the people and acted arrogantly, those idle "masters" who carried caged birds and did nothing, were no different from their pet crickets and parrots in the face of the light of "purification," and all turned into nothingness.

This "formatting" lasted for a full month.

Once the last "source of pollution" identified by the genetic identification system was eliminated, the gloom that had shrouded this continent for hundreds of years was completely dispelled overnight. The sky became higher and bluer than ever before.

However, the hundreds of millions of ordinary people who survived were plunged into deeper confusion and fear.

They witnessed both miracles and divine punishment. They didn't know how the "heavenly soldiers and generals" who descended from the sky would deal with them after eliminating their "masters." Would they be wiped out like ants, or turned into new, even more miserable slaves?

In this deathly silence filled with fear and despair, Lin Feng's decree descended like the first ray of light at the beginning of creation.

Temporary holographic projection towers scattered across every corner of the continent were activated. Whether in bustling towns in Jiangnan or remote mountain villages, a clear, towering golden figure appeared before everyone.

That was Lin Feng's holographic projection.

"I, Lin Feng, Emperor of the Holy Star Empire."

His voice didn't reach the ears, but resonated directly in the depths of everyone's soul. It was an irresistible and unquestionable authority.

"This world has been cleansed of its filth."

"You all have Chinese blood, and are my kin. Although you have been ignorant for a long time, your roots have not been severed."

"From this day forward, I hereby bestow upon you this grace: all the remaining Chinese people on this continent shall shave their heads and change their clothes, restoring the attire of the Han people and abandoning their servile nature. You will no longer be lowly people at the mercy of others, no longer groveling slaves."

"I hereby grant you the status of first-class citizens of the Holy Star Empire!"

"The empire's territory is your homeland; the empire's glory is your glory! You will gain land, knowledge, power, and... all the dignity that a 'human being' deserves!"

This decree, like ten thousand thunderbolts, exploded simultaneously in the minds of hundreds of millions of people.

After a brief, deathly silence came an unbelievable, deafening roar!

"What? I...I'm not a servant anymore?"

"First-class citizen... What kind of official is that? Is he even higher than a county magistrate?"

"The immortal god said...we are his kin?!"

In a remote mountain village, an old farmer with gray hair, whose legs had been broken by a landlord for not being able to pay rent, stared blankly at the huge golden figure in the sky, and turbid tears flowed uncontrollably down his face.

His grandson, a seven or eight-year-old child, tugged at his clothes in confusion: "Grandpa, why are you crying?"

The old farmer suddenly hugged his grandson tightly and burst into tears. In his cries, there was the grievances he had suppressed for a lifetime, the uncertainty about the future, but more than anything, there was the intense joy of a person who had been pressed under a boulder and was almost suffocating, suddenly breathing in the first breath of fresh air!

"We...we're saved! We don't have to be slaves anymore!!"

In a brothel in Yangzhou, a thin woman who had just been forced to serve customers and was silently weeping suddenly raised her head upon hearing these words.

Looking at the golden deity, at that unquestionable gaze, she suddenly unleashed an unprecedented power, shoved aside the fat, gruff customer beside her, staggered to the window, and slammed her head heavily against the sky.

"This humble woman...this humble woman thanks the Heavenly Emperor!"

Ecstasy, like the most virulent plague, spread wildly across the continent.

When people realized this was not a dream, when they saw that the once high-ranking Manchu lords had truly vanished into thin air, and when the first batch of amiable imperial officials in silver-white uniforms began distributing brand-new identification cards and "citizen starter packs," the volcano that had been suppressed for hundreds of years finally erupted in the most insane and thorough way!

Countless people rushed into the streets, tearing off their rat-tail braids. Some used scissors, some used kitchen knives, and some even used their teeth to bite them!

On this day, the braid, once considered a symbol of "submission" and "servility," was completely abandoned by hundreds of millions of people with an almost ritualistic fervor.

The men took off their long robes and mandarin jackets, and the women burned their flowerpot-bottom shoes. They took out the Han Chinese clothes that had been passed down from generation to generation as "mementos" from the bottom of their trunks, and carefully put them on, even though they were already tattered.

The entire continent was in an uproar.

This was an unprecedented, bottom-up celebration. They rose from the lowest rungs of feudal society to become "first-class citizens" of a trans-planetary empire with godlike power.

The shock of this change in identity is enough to completely shatter the rationality of any normal person.

Happiness came too suddenly and too violently, plunging them directly into the abyss of "madness".

When these ordinary people walked into the science fiction-themed "Citizen Authentication Center," which was set up overnight by the Imperial Engineering Corps, and saw Imperial officials in silver-white uniforms actually processing identities for them, these "peasants," with an attitude that could even be described as gentle, they were deeply moved.

When they received that palm-sized metal plate called the "personal terminal," which could display countless amazing images, they were stunned.

When the terminal clearly displays the words "Citizen Name: xxx, Status: First-Class Citizen of the Holy Star Empire, Resource Quota: Standard Level"...

The entire continent was in an uproar.

It was an indescribable emotional explosion resulting from the complete release of humiliation and pain accumulated over generations in an instant.

Countless people, regardless of age or gender, knelt on the ground, weeping as they kowtowed before the magnificent propaganda towers that projected holographic images of the golden statue of Emperor Lin Feng.

"Your Majesty! No! It's His Majesty! It's the Heavenly Emperor!"

"A sage has descended from heaven! A sage has descended from heaven to save us from suffering!"

"Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!"

They didn't know what an "empire" or "technology" was. In their eyes, Lin Feng was a god who had descended to earth to save them.

An unprecedented, nationwide, and heartfelt fervor of worship is growing wildly on this land that has just been ravaged by blood.

What happened next pushed this fervor to its ultimate peak.

They leaped from a primitive, feudal agricultural society to an interstellar civilization with virtually limitless productivity. This abrupt leap brought about a revolutionary, dreamlike transformation in everyone's lives.

They went crazy. Every single one of them was ecstatic.

Wang Ergou, thirty-five years old, comes from a family that has been tenant farmers for landlords for eighteen generations.

His life consisted of working from dawn till dusk, using a hoe to toil in the barren land. His greatest dream was to have a full meal, a meal made purely of white rice, without chaff or sand.

During the Qing Dynasty's puppet regime, he had to hand over eight or nine tenths of his harvest to the government. He, his wife, and his children lived in a state of semi-starvation every day. His children, due to long-term malnutrition, were as thin as bean sprouts.

He didn't believe the Emancipation Decree when it was issued. It wasn't until the village head (now called a "temporary liaison officer") dragged him to the citizen certification center.

When he placed his calloused hand, hardened from years of wielding a hoe, on the identity verification device and received a personal terminal and a "resource card," he was still bewildered.

The staff told him that with this card, he could go to the large, silver-white building called the "Supplies Distribution Center" that had appeared overnight at the entrance of the village to collect his weekly food ration.

He went there with some skepticism. When he swiped his card on the machine at the door, a metal door slid open, and he saw a sight he could never have imagined in his life.

It was a huge warehouse, with shelves piled high with neatly arranged, beautifully packaged food. There was snow-white rice, golden millet, finely ground white flour, and all sorts of canned meats and vegetable packets he had never seen before, emitting an enticing aroma.

A soft electronic voice announced: "Citizen Wang Ergou, your standard family weekly food ration has been confirmed. Please collect: 50 kg of Grade A refined rice, 20 kg of high-protein synthetic meat, and 20 kg of a comprehensive nutritional vegetable pack..."

Wang Ergou's mind went completely blank.

Fifty kilograms? A week? His whole family used to eat more pure grains than they could in a year!

He's gone mad.

Like a mad beast, he pounced on the mountain of rice sacks, tearing open the packaging with his teeth, then burying his head in them and swallowing large mouthfuls of raw rice. He swallowed, cried, and laughed incoherently.

He used all his strength to drag fifty kilograms of rice, twenty kilograms of meat, and twenty kilograms of vegetables back home.

That night, instead of using a pot, he built a fire in the yard and roasted all the meat. He, his wife, and children sat around the fire, ignoring the scalding heat, and wolfed down the meat.

They ate and vomited, then ate again. Until all three of them were so full they lay on the ground, unable to move, yet their faces still wore foolish, blissful smiles.

From that day on, Wang Ergou contracted a "disease." His most important task every day was to go to the supply distribution center, collect a massive amount of food, and then watch the food pile up in his house. His house was so full of food that only the sleeping area remained.

He no longer goes to the fields. His personal terminal says that agriculture in the entire region has been taken over by "agricultural robots."

Those robots, operating enormous machines he couldn't understand, could cultivate in a single day what the entire village couldn't cultivate in a year before. The yield was frighteningly high.

Wang Ergou was completely liberated. His daily life consisted of eating and watching his family eat.

He watched his child grow up to be chubby and healthy in just a few months, his face regaining color. He would grin and smile foolishly for a long time.

He cleared out the best room in his house, not to store food, but to enshrine a portrait of Emperor Lin Feng that he had downloaded and printed from the terminal.

Every morning, noon, and evening, he would lead his whole family to kneel and kowtow three times and nine times before the portrait, praying devoutly: "Thank you, Your Majesty the Heavenly Emperor, for allowing us to have enough to eat..."

For him, a god who can feed people is the only true god worth believing in.

Old Zhang was an ordinary farmer living by the Yellow River. His only son, Zhang Tieniu, was bitten by an unknown poisonous insect while fishing in the river a few days ago. He contracted a plague, his body was covered in sores, and he had a persistent high fever. He was on the verge of death.

In the old days, this meant death. Old Zhang had already prepared the coffin, and his wife was crying her heart out beside him.

Just then, a silver-white, teardrop-shaped Imperial medical shuttle silently landed on the threshing ground at the village entrance.

Two imperial citizens dressed in white medical gowns descended from above. Through the global vital sign monitoring system of the AI ​​"Pangu," they learned that there was a dying patient in the village.

The villagers stared in horror at these "visitors from outer space." Old Zhang, however, grasped at this last straw and knelt on the ground like a madman, kowtowing repeatedly: "Gods! Gods! Please save my son! I'll do anything for you!"

A medical officer merely glanced at him calmly and said, “Citizen, please rise. Providing medical care to every citizen of the Empire is a fundamental principle of the Empire. We are not gods, we are doctors.”

They entered Old Zhang's dilapidated thatched hut and scanned Zhang Tieniu with a handheld scanner. Three seconds later, the cause of the illness, the structure of the virus, and the treatment plan all appeared on their terminal.

"High-intensity variant bacillus infection with residual neurotoxins. Simple."

A medical officer took a syringe no bigger than a finger from a medical kit and injected Zhang Tieniu's arm. Inside the syringe were hundreds of millions of programmed medical nanorobots.

A miracle occurred before the eyes of all the villagers.

The horrific festering sores on Zhang Tieniu's body began to heal, scab over, and peel off at a visible speed, revealing new, healthy skin underneath. His burning forehead quickly returned to normal temperature. In less than five minutes, the young man who had been on the verge of death just a moment ago suddenly sat up, looking around blankly.

"Father? Mother? Where...where am I? Am I going to die?"

The entire thatched hut, inside and out, was deathly silent.

All the villagers who witnessed this scene were left speechless.

The next second, Old Zhang burst into a deafening wail. It wasn't out of grief, but out of overwhelming excitement! He rushed forward, not to embrace his son, but to kneel heavily before the two medical officers, his forehead slamming into the muddy ground with a loud "thud."

"Living gods! You are living gods!"

His kneeling seemed to send a signal. A vast, dark mass of villagers who had gathered outside knelt down. Their eyes, fixed on the two medical officers, were filled with the most primal, fervent religious devotion.

They don't believe in "doctors," they only believe in "gods." What is this method of bringing the dead back to life if not a miracle?

Old Zhang's "madness" lay in the fact that from that day on, he treated the used syringe casing, which had been carelessly discarded by the medical officer, as a "sacred object," setting up an altar at home to worship it and burning incense day and night.

He told everyone he met that he had seen a living deity and received divine gifts. His home quickly became a "holy site" known for miles around, with countless people coming to worship, hoping to absorb some of the "divine energy." This fanatical faith, a mixture of extreme gratitude and ignorance, became the first microcosm of the new era.

Wang Xiucai was a down-on-his-luck scholar who had spent half his life studying Confucian classics but never even passed the imperial examinations. His greatest pride in life was that he knew several thousand characters.

When the empire implemented its "universal education plan," he initially dismissed it with disdain. In his view, how could the "strange skills and tricks" of those "extraterrestrial visitors" compare to the profound wisdom of the sages?

Until an imperial instructor found him and handed him a helmet-like device.

"Mr. Wang, this is a neuro-inductive learning device. It can directly write the Imperial Citizen Basic Knowledge Base into your memory brain area within one hour. It is painless and has no side effects."

Scholar Wang scoffed, "Nonsense! How can the hardships of ten years of studying be replaced by your clever tricks?"

The education officer didn't argue, but simply smiled and made a "please" gesture.

With the intention of "exposing the scam," Wang Xiucai put on the helmet with some skepticism.

The next second, his world was turned upside down.

An endless torrent of information, like a bursting dam, flooded his brain. But strangely, he felt no pain; instead, he experienced an intense, exhilarating feeling, as if he had been enlightened.

Astronomy, geography, physics, chemistry, biology, mathematics, history, art...

The origin of the universe, the birth and death of stars, the structure of atoms, the mysteries of genes...

Those worldviews, each more grand than the last, which he had never imagined, rapidly constructed in his mind like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, forming a completely new and incomparably magnificent cosmological model. His theoretical system of "a round heaven and a square earth" and "divine right of kings" was shattered in the face of this great and real universe, leaving not a single fragment.

The learning device automatically shut down after one hour.

Wang Xiucai sat there blankly, his eyes glazed over, muttering to himself, "So...so this is what the world is like...So, we...are so insignificant, yet so...great..."

Suddenly, he stood up abruptly, rushed to his precious bookshelf, grabbed all the books he once regarded as the ultimate guide, including the Four Books and Five Classics and the Zizhi Tongjian, ran into the yard, and burned them to the ground.

"It's ruined me! It's ruined half my life!" He pointed at the raging flames, tears streaming down his face. "These... they're all lies! They're all shackles that bind my mind!"

Wang Xiucai's madness stemmed from a fanatical thirst for truth. He burned his past and, like a newborn infant, greedily absorbed all the knowledge in the Empire's online database.

He applied for a personal terminal, then locked himself in his room, refusing to eat, drink, or sleep, immersing himself day and night in the ocean of knowledge. Sometimes he would dance with joy at a beautiful mathematical formula, and other times he would sigh with regret at a magnificent interstellar war. He went mad, becoming a pure "knowledge fanatic" who lived for knowledge.