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After struggling for most of the night, Ryan's attempts at the Three Yin Demon-Slaying Blade still ended in failure. Even after comparing countless notes and checking old sources, nothing worked.
He wasn't too disappointed. Instead, the failure revealed a new way to channel his divine power.
In his rented room, Ryan stretched out his hand. Threads of starlight wrapped themselves around a cheap toy sword he had once bought with fireworks. Under his control, the toy sword floated, weaving through the air like a flying blade.
"The external release of divine power has more flexibility than I thought," Ryan murmured. "Within ten meters, I can move it like my own arm. Twenty meters seems to be my limit. Its strength matches one of my arms too… Which means, as long as the weapon is sharp enough, I'd have an invincible flying sword within ten meters."
The failure of the Demon-Slaying Blade made sense now. His power wasn't strong enough yet. But he could feel it in his bones—one day, that technique would be possible.
And he already knew how to get stronger.
"The reason I became a god at all… is because of their belief in me. The more faith I gather in that world, the stronger I'll grow."
Whether it was selfish desire or the responsibility of guiding those primitive people, Ryan had already made his decision. He would expand his influence. He would conquer.
But first… there was the matter of money. A quick glance at his bank balance made him groan. Days of spending had left it empty.
"Looks like I need to earn my first bucket of gold… from the other world."
After practicing the flying sword until sleep finally caught up to him, Ryan drifted into rest.
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The next morning, he paid off his room for a few more days and used the last of his savings to buy supplies: sacks of rice, salt, sugar, stacks of iron pots, bowls, and plates. Cheap in modern society, but priceless treasures in the eyes of primitive tribes.
Through the gray vortex, he appeared and disappeared again and again, transporting goods. Bags of rice, heavy iron pots—each trip left him panting.
Finally, with sweat on his brow, Ryan pointed at the pile of supplies as tribespeople gathered, wide-eyed with awe.
"Move these into the cave. Carefully. These are from the Holy Kingdom. If you break them, I won't forgive you."
The words alone were enough. The primitive people's movements turned cautious, reverent.
Inside the cave, Ryan built a simple stone stove and lit a bonfire. He filled an iron pot with rice, water, and a pinch of salt and sugar. Porridge—simple, filling, and easy to make. In times of famine, even ancient emperors had relied on it to feed their people.
While the water boiled, Ryan called over the tribe's elder, Orun.
"Are there other humans nearby?" Ryan asked.
The elder nodded. "Yes. A dozen small tribes. But they live poorly. Too few young men. Sometimes they vanish overnight—eaten by beasts. Survival here is cruel."
His tone was calm, but the truth was grim. In this primeval forest, humanity lingered in the middle of the food chain, never at the top.
Ryan thought for a moment, then asked carefully, "What if I gather them together? What if I integrate them into our tribe?"
To his surprise, Orun's face went pale. He shook his head furiously.
"Great God, your kindness blinds you. If they join us, there will be problems. This cave cannot hold so many. The young cannot hunt enough food to feed others. And if too many gather… the God of Plague will surely come."
Ryan listened silently, but his thoughts were calm. The old man was right—space, food, and disease were real obstacles. For any ordinary traveler, they would have been fatal concerns.
But Ryan was not ordinary. He could walk freely between two worlds.
Which meant these problems weren't problems at all.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he looked at the elder.
"I can solve them. So if there are no other objections, let's begin expanding our tribe."
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Although the young hunters had gone out, the cave was still crowded. After all, in the entire tribe, the strong only made up a small portion.
Amid the sound of satisfied burps, Ryan enjoyed the respectful gazes of the tribesfolk. He walked over to the side of Elder Orun, sat down on the ground, and asked:
"Orun, what do you know about this forest?"
Seeing the divine figure sit beside him, the elder's eyes brightened. He hurriedly wiped porridge from his beard with the back of his hand, smearing it down his arm. Ryan frowned slightly.
Their hygiene must be improved soon.
Now that he noticed it, the faint smell of waste clung to the cave air. The tribesfolk might know enough to relieve themselves outside, but they did not know about cleansing afterward. The thought turned Ryan's stomach, but he forced himself to endure it for the sake of divine dignity.
"Great Lord of the Stars," Orun said nervously, "forgive my ignorance. I know little of the forest. But there is a great tribe, hundreds of miles away, that surely knows much more."
Ryan had expected as much. These people lived like frogs at the bottom of a well. Still, his interest stirred at Orun's mention of a larger tribe.
"Another tribe? Did you not say yours was the largest in this region?"
Orun shook his head quickly. "We are the largest nearby, yes. But compared to the Crimson Fire Tribe, we are nothing. They are strong, under the protection of a god. I once saw their warriors—every one of them could summon fire."
The elder's gaze fixed on Ryan, burning with passion. "O Lord of the Stars, we too are your most faithful believers. Will you not bestow upon us such divine power, to command the light of the heavens?"
Ryan froze for a moment. Another god? The idea unsettled him. Not only that—this rival was clearly ahead of him. Unlike Ryan, that god had already given their followers tangible powers.
So… there are levels even among gods.
As Ryan mused, Orun grew uneasy. "Great Lord… forgive me, my request was rash. Please do not be angered."
Ryan returned to himself, masking his thoughts with a calm, knowing smile. "In time," he said slowly, "I shall bestow upon you such power."
Orun's face lit up. From the moment he had witnessed Ryan's miracles, he had resolved that his people must cling to this god. Now, joy surged through him. Our tribe will finally have divine protection.
Just then, the hunters began returning, arms full of their spoils. They hurried to present their findings at Ryan's feet as though offering precious treasure.
Ryan's heart leapt. Finally! Maybe this will be enough to fund me back in the real world—
But when he saw the truth, his excitement soured. The hunters had not returned with gold, nor gems, but only ordinary stones.
"…Sigh."
His dream of quick wealth crumbled. Of course, it made sense—precious metals required rare conditions to form. These primitive people had neither the means nor the reason to seek such things.
Rubbing his temple, Ryan turned sharply to Orun. "There must be something of value in this Crimson Fire Tribe, yes?"
The elder's eyes widened, then he nodded eagerly. "Yes, Great One. Their land is flat and fertile, rich with abundance. Surely treasures must be found there. Do you mean to conquer them?"
Ryan forced a thin smile. Conquer? With what? Fireworks? If they truly wield divine fire, even an excavator couldn't win that fight.
But aloud he said with composure, "In time, yes. The forest will one day shine with the light of the Stars."
That was his long-term vision. But the present problem was more practical—money.
Minerals are useless. I'll have to think of trade instead. Something the Earth will buy.
In the dim cave, Ryan rested his chin in his hand. A sly thought came to him. There's nothing Earthlings won't buy if you call it a health product.
From gullible elders chasing miracle tonics, to youths spending fortunes on collagen and exotic supplements, there was always a market.
Leaning close to Orun—ignoring the elder's unwashed odor—Ryan whispered: "Tell me… do you know of anything, especially from beasts, that can make a man stronger when eaten?"
Orun blinked, startled. Then his expression shifted. Understanding dawned in his eyes.
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