One Trait Draw Per Year Even Simulations Count

While taking a break in a patch of woods, Liu Ying and the others gathered around you, asking what to do next and where to go.

You asked the crowd.

”Do you still want to go back to how things were? Being labeled a ’sinner’ from birth, your only purpose in life being to work for the church and feed those fat-headed, lazy bastards?”

Everyone’s answer was unanimous. Men and women alike raised their fists.

”NEVER! NEVER! NEVER!”

You motioned for them to keep their voices down, not to draw any attention.

You smiled.

”Are you all thinking I’m about to tell you to join me in overthrowing the church and establishing a kingdom of our own for the human race on Fortune Star?”

Everyone exchanged glances. That was exactly what they had in mind.

Even though their understanding of ”nation” was a bit vague, a simple explanation would clear it up for them.”My people, that’s not possible.”

From Locke, you had learned the true scale of the Winged God Church. It was far beyond what you, with just a bunch of mortals, could ever hope to challenge.

So, there was only one path left for you.

”Run! Get off Fortune Star! Not every planet crushes humans like Fortune Star does. We can find a place where you can live out your days in peace!”

”How do we run?”

”Seize resources, find a star vessel, and make for the spaceport!”

The tenth year. You were thirty-four years old.

After the White Porridge Uprising, the Winged God Church on Fortune Star issued a wanted order for you.

Your portrait was plastered all over Fortune Star.

Cultivators from the eight legions searched house to house, throwing the homes of every civilian race into chaos.

Because you were human, and the miners who rebelled with you were also human.

In this storm, humanity suffered yet another wave of persecution.

They were indiscriminately assumed to be your kin, to know your whereabouts. Humans were hunted down everywhere, tortured mercilessly.

Countless humans died or were wounded in the process.

Meanwhile, you led eight hundred miners along the toughest, most remote paths toward the coordinates Old Zhang had left behind-the location of the star vessel his master had once hidden.

If strength permitted, could you just seize a Winged God Church star vessel?

The answer was no.

Because there were none.

To prevent the people on third-class stars-from just humans; the oppressed weren’t only humans, but humans had it worst-from ever leaving a third-class star.

The Winged God Church had their own people shuttle between second-class and third-class stars. Their vessels docked at the port, loaded and unloaded, then immediately departed, never staying long.

So, if you wanted to escape this third-class star, the vessel left by Old Zhang’s master was your only chance.

Along the way, you raided every mine you came across.

You sent your four fearless clones charging in first, drawing their fire, while you secretly built up your strength amid the enemies.

By the time they saw a hundred-meter-tall version of you rampaging and trampling everything, Liu Ying and the other miners would charge in to mop up.

There were still casualties, but the rate had dropped significantly.

With every mine you conquered, the amount of Source Stones, weapons, armor, and humans willing to follow you increased.

Gradually, your force grew larger and larger.

Those original eight hundred souls spread like sparks, igniting flames of human rebellion across the land.

Some rebel forces were extinguished.

Others merged with yours.

You were hailed as the Grand Marshal by all the uprisings.

Your ability to conjure white porridge out of thin air was no longer a secret.

This skill, unheard of even among high-level cultivators, made you easily mythologized by the people.

Though you repeatedly insisted you weren’t a god, the rebel forces remained steadfast in their belief: even if you weren’t a god, you were the god’s messenger on earth, the savior of humanity.

The eleventh year. You were thirty-five years old.

Now, over ten thousand people directly followed your rebel army, and countless others rose up in response across the land.

Along the way, you used Unlimited White Porridge as emergency rations and empowered weapons seized from enemies with Divine Armament Revelation, arming your own people.

You weathered countless pursuits and crises.

Almost every day, new humans joined you, and fellow fighters who had stood by you in battle fell to the pursuers.

You were not only the commander of the troops-you were also their teacher.

Whenever there was no fighting, you taught a group of officers to read and write, instilling in them a philosophy of optimism, positivity, upliftment, struggle, and resilience.

Then, those officers passed that knowledge down to the ranks.

You told the suffering humans on Fortune Star how glorious their race had once been-a leader among all races, heirs to boundless legacies, before whom all realms bowed.

Of course, you didn’t mention the Void Realm. They couldn’t grasp concepts like the Void Realm or the Real Realm anyway.

You also taught cultivation techniques, allowing those with aptitude to begin their training.

With knowledge and culture, you armed their spirits; with techniques and cultivation, you armed their bodies.

In just a few short years, the entire mindset of the Fortune Star humans under your wing had changed dramatically.

The twelfth year. You were thirty-six years old.

Kedley was a White Priest.

Recently, he had received reports that traces of human rebel activity had appeared near the branch office under his jurisdiction, and it seemed to be the very unit commanded by the rebel Grand Marshal!

Kedley was ecstatic.

He had long dreamed of being promoted to Red Cardinal, but he had never found the right opportunity or opening.

And now, a golden opportunity was practically handed to him on a silver platter!

Kedley mobilized all the legions under his branch office, using Source Stones to hire many cultivators of the Qi Transformation and Core Formation realms from other races, and they joined forces to surround and eliminate your rebel unit.

The gap between the two sides was still far too wide.

In that battle, over half of the ten thousand directly led rebels were lost. Only three thousand managed to escape with vital supplies, and even they were scattered, reuniting only later at a designated rendezvous point.

The key to their escape was you, the Grand Marshal, personally covering the retreat.

”Go! Don’t worry about me!”

”GRAND MARSHAL!!”

”That’s an order!! Don’t let our efforts and sacrifices be in vain!”

This farewell, this brotherhood-in-arms, only amused Kedley’s side.

”Kedley! Let my people go! I’ll go back with you! If I go all out, a lot of people on your side are going to die!”

Kedley mulled it over. He had a point. You were the most important prize. The others were hardly a concern.

He agreed to your terms, and you were captured alive.

Then, in front of everyone at the branch office, he carried out your execution by hanging.

”Hahaha! I killed Chen Yi!! I’ve done a great deed!!”

One month later.

”Kedley! Let my people go! I’ll go back with you!”

Staring at another you standing before him, uttering similar words, Kedley rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

”Damn it, am I hallucinating? Wasn’t this guy already dead?!”

He didn’t care. Kedley captured you again and hanged you again.

”Hahaha! I killed Chen Yi again! I’ve done another great deed!!”