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He then sold some of them and converted them into another Ultimate Star.

Then, a large number of Ultimate Stars were replicated.

As the number of Ultimate Stars increases, the replication rate grows exponentially.

The bottom of the basin was gradually filled with the Ultimate Star, piling up layer upon layer.

A few minutes later, Yang Yi stood at the edge of the basin and looked down. Before him was an ocean shimmering with strange light.

Ultimate Star filled the entire basin, and then Yang Yi sold a portion of them to the Conversion Table.

Yang Yi checked his EMC values, which had reached an absurd level and could only be displayed in nested scientific notation.

(Example: 10^10^10^10)

This is no longer a concept of wealth or riches, but a near-limitless control over resources.

"From now on, I don't care about money. Money is just a number to me. I don't have the concept of money. Anyway, no one is richer than me."

Then Yang Yi's clone continued to increase the EMC value, since no one ever thinks they have too much money.

------

Some say that the high lords of the empire are power-hungry, bloated, and incompetent good-for-nothings, and that they are the main reason for the empire's current corruption and fragmentation.

Indeed, they squandered vast resources on pleasure and ruled for centuries without changing the empire in the slightest, so it's normal that they were despised.

But it is precisely because of these high lords who are condemned by all that the Empire, this dilapidated ship, has been able to eke out a living in the galaxy for millennia.

According to unwritten statistics within the Empire, the average lifespan of high lords is much shorter than that of other Terran nobles, with about 90% of high lords eventually dying from overwork.

You can say they lack ability, but you can't say they don't try.

Although the technological level of the 40K Empire is hard to describe, most of its technology relies on archaeological excavations of the legacy of the Golden Age.

However, the life-extending technologies available to the Terra Highlords are no different from those of the Golden Age.

The empire spared no expense to extend their lives, and theoretically they could easily live for over a thousand years.

In reality, very few high lords live past three hundred years old.

Furthermore, the High Lords sitting at the pinnacle of imperial power already understood the nature of the Warp.

In their eyes, the Chaos Gods were nothing more than a few scumbags who wanted to destroy humanity, and the hallucinations brought about by the warp corruption even became a form of entertainment for them during their spare time.

The rarest foods and the most precious treasures in the world became commonplace in the eyes of the High Lord.

The High Lord is too busy; he's so busy he doesn't even have time to die.

There is a long-standing rumor in the Empire that the High Lords have completely seized power in the human Empire, and that even if the Emperor were to rise from the Golden Throne, he would have to wrest power back from the High Lords.

The truth is quite the opposite; they would voluntarily return power to the emperor.

This wasn't out of awe, but because I saw hope in retirement.

The high lords had long lost their reverence for the emperor.

They knew perfectly well that the skeleton that had sat on the golden toilet for ten thousand years was no different in essence from the warp god.

The only difference might be that the emperor was once on the side of humanity, but who knows what will happen in the future?

Guilliman is the most qualified to speak on just how complex the work of the High Lords really is.

This thirteenth Primarch, who awakened from the static force field, was the ruler of the five hundred worlds of the Empire. When he first emerged, he was still a young man.

“He will regret waking up,” a high lord said with certainty at the time.

As expected, just a century later, this majestic demigod regent had gray hair, his face was covered with wrinkles, and he looked incredibly weathered.

Today, Imperial Interior Minister Collins is enjoying a short nap; data from his sleep monitor shows he is only in light sleep.

Suddenly, a golden figure appeared in his mind.

Although he had only seen the emperor's appearance in ancient portraits and imperial propaganda posters, this deep-seated understanding made him certain without a doubt that the figure before him was the guardian of humanity—the emperor.

Collins realized he was dreaming, but it wasn't entirely a dream.

"What are your instructions, Your Majesty?" Collins asked in his mind, his voice calm as ever.

But he did not wake up, and his heart did not even race.

Unless it's a cataclysmic crisis like the Chaos army directly attacking Terra or the Martian Mechanicus suddenly rebelling, nothing else is considered urgent.

After all, given the Empire's current efficiency, even if they woke up immediately to review the documents, there would be no substantial progress.

The emperor's phantom remained silent, its golden radiance flickering as if it were contemplating something.

Collins waited, enjoying this moment of waiting, because he could rest.

Then the light suddenly intensified, and the emperor's image became clearer; Collins could almost see that majestic face.

He had expected some kind of divine revelation, some kind of command that would change the fate of the empire.

but.

Collins waited a few more minutes, but still received no instructions to land.

"Perhaps the Emperor is just here to see me?" he thought.

“Since there are no instructions, let’s talk about it tomorrow,” Collins had already decided. “We’ll discuss this at the High Lords’ meeting.”

He then lost consciousness and fell asleep again.

The Emperor's manifestation did indeed bring unexpected benefits; the constant whispers of chaos that raged day and night disappeared, and the murmurs of the warp vanished without a trace.

His mind was clearer than ever before.

The values ​​on the sleep monitor stabilized, and the EEG showed that he had entered deep sleep.

Collins smiled slightly; this was the most comfortable sleep he had had in years.

"Praise be to the Emperor! Praise be to mankind!" he murmured in his dream, "Even if it's just to let me have a good night's sleep."

Chapter 100 The Second Empire's First Conference

Heavy footsteps approached from afar, growing louder and louder, and then the heavy alloy door of the bedroom was slammed open with a "bang," the specially made door groaning under the weight.

Interior Minister Collins was jolted awake by the loud noise, just as he was about to fall asleep.

He then deduced from the sound and the way the person opened the door that it must be the Imperial Guard.

"These guys, I must bring this up at the High Lords' meeting next time..." Collins had just had this thought in his mind when he immediately suppressed it.

Forget it, we can't afford to offend them. Who told these people to only listen to the Emperor?

It seemed the emperor really had something urgent. He struggled to get up and gestured to the servant beside him to give him some injections so that his body, which was almost falling apart, could move again.

Years of overwork have taken a toll on Collins' health, leaving him only able to survive with the help of various medications and mechanical modifications.

But today the situation seemed a bit unusual; the Imperial Guards actually stopped the servant and signaled him to set off immediately.

The head of the Imperial Guard explained expressionlessly, "The situation is urgent; His Majesty has summoned us urgently."

After he finished speaking, two guards stepped forward and lifted Collins off the bed.

“Okay, okay,” Collins sighed inwardly.

"It seems I'll have to cancel tonight's banquet, but I need to figure out how to deal with those troublesome nobles and governors..."

As he pondered this, he allowed the Imperial Guards to help him walk outside.

Just then, a guard walked up to him and handed him a golden apple.

The apple radiated a soft glow, its surface flawless, as perfect as a work of art.

Collins was stunned.

As the Minister of the Interior of the Empire, what delicacies hasn't he seen?

They've even eaten exorbitantly priced fruits cultivated using the resources of an entire planet.

But he swore he had never seen an apple like this... no, such a perfect apple.

“This is…” Collins hesitated for a moment.

"Bestowed by His Majesty."

Minister of the Interior Collins accepted the apple from the guards; its golden peel shimmered with a faint glow, making it look incredibly appetizing.

He took a bite, completely unconcerned about whether there was anything wrong with the apple.

Are you kidding me? What kind of storms hasn't he weathered? Let alone an apple, even a plate of poison, if it's given to him by the Imperial Guards, he'd swallow it all without batting an eye.

He had no doubt that the Imperial Guard would harm him.

The Imperial Guard has no loyalty because it has no betrayal; when a coin only has heads, then naturally there are no tails.

If the food the Imperial Guards gave him was truly problematic, he would reflect on whether he had unintentionally been corrupted by chaos.

With one bite, the juice bursts forth, and the sweet taste instantly fills the entire mouth. Collins feels as if he has returned to that afternoon when he was young, with the sun shining brightly.

Immediately afterwards, a warm current rose from my lower abdomen and quickly spread to my limbs and bones.

Like rain after a long drought, every cell in the body is overjoyed.

Collins felt as if he had been thrown into a hot spring, every pore on his body opening up, an indescribable feeling of comfort.

He finished the apple in a few bites, but was a little disappointed to find that it had no core.

After eating the apple, Collins felt refreshed and full of energy.

Years of fatigue vanished, and I felt a hundred years younger, back to the age when I could work all night and still be full of energy the next day.

"This apple is really good!" Collins thought to himself in amazement.

He couldn't help but move his somewhat stiff body.

"If I could get one every day, even 007 would be a piece of cake!" Collins felt great and couldn't wait to get back to his office and finish off the mountain of documents.

He even began to fantasize that if these apples could be supplied in large quantities, wouldn't the empire's administrative efficiency increase several times over?

Thinking of this, Collins felt even better, and his steps became lighter.

He tentatively inquired of the imperial guard beside him about the origin of the apple: "Is this apple some newly discovered technology? Could it be...?"

The captain of the Imperial Guard remained expressionless, simply replying, "You'll understand once you see His Majesty."