Before entering the tent of Genghis Khan, Chen Rong had already prepared every word in his mind.
He understood clearly that this was not a simple conversation.
One careless statement, one contradiction, and everything he had built would collapse instantly.
The Mongol court was not lacking in scholars or advisers.
Among them was Yelü Chucai, a man of profound knowledge and keen judgment. If Chen Rong followed conventional myths and legends, he would inevitably reveal flaws.
If he spoke of Daoist immortal caves, heavenly paradises, rare beasts, and spiritual fruits, it would sound familiar—too familiar.
Scholars like Yelü Chucai would immediately begin questioning details.
Once that happened, Chen Rong's fabricated story would quickly unravel.
More importantly, Chen Rong knew the religious landscape of this era.
During this period, Daoism was flourishing and gradually becoming one of the most influential faiths in northern China.
Its most respected figure at the time was Qiu Chuji, also known as Master Changchun.
If Chen Rong claimed he had encountered Daoist immortals, the credit would inevitably fall to Qiu Chuji and the Daoist sect. In that case, Chen Rong himself would gain nothing.
He would merely become a messenger, making "wedding clothes for others," as the saying went.
Moreover, Daoist philosophy emphasized purity, non-action, and withdrawal from worldly affairs.
Such teachings were not particularly useful for a rising empire built on conquest and expansion.
Chen Rong knew that, historically, Daoism would later lose influence among the Mongols, while Tibetan Buddhism and Islam would rise.
So instead of describing Daoist immortals, Chen Rong chose something entirely different—beings from the heavens, far beyond the knowledge of this era.
Combined with the images stored on his phone, his story would become nearly impossible to refute.
"Really? You also brought paintings?" Genghis Khan asked, leaning forward with visible interest. "Show them to me at once."
Chen Rong bowed slightly.
"Great Khan, these are not ordinary paintings. They must be viewed in a special manner.
I request that a large white cloth be hung inside the tent. The surrounding torches must also be extinguished before the viewing."
Yelü Chucai raised his brows slightly.
"A special method of viewing?" he asked, glancing at the strange objects in Chen Rong's hands. "And this device you carry… is it used to display the images?"
"Yes," Chen Rong replied respectfully. "I request the Great Khan's permission."
Genghis Khan nodded without hesitation.
"Very well. Prepare a large white cloth. Hang it in the tent. Extinguish all torches."
Servants immediately moved to carry out the order.
Chen Rong stood quietly, maintaining his composure, though inwardly he felt a surge of anticipation.
These images—cached from countless hours browsing the internet—had once seemed useless clutter.
Now, they had become his greatest weapon.
These are completely different from some of the popular paintings of gods and Buddhas nowadays, and can give people of this era some extremely shocking visual impact, especially when played with something like a projector.
Soon, Mongol soldiers returned carrying a massive white cloth. They hung it across the center of the tent. One by one, the torches were extinguished.
The interior of the tent fell into darkness.
Only faint moonlight filtered through the gaps in the felt walls.
"Mr. Chen," Genghis Khan said quietly, "you may begin."
Chen Rong nodded.
"Great Khan, please wait a moment."
He moved to his supplies and carefully lifted out a portable power bank weighing several kilograms. He connected it to the projector, then linked his phone with practiced hands.
To Genghis Khan and Yelü Chucai, these movements appeared mysterious and incomprehensible.
Chen Rong adjusted the projector, aimed it at the white cloth, and pressed the power switch.
A beam of white light suddenly shot forward.
Moments later, an image appeared on the cloth.
It was a humanoid figure clad in sleek, seamless armor. The armor gleamed with metallic brilliance.
The figure held a strange, exaggerated bow. A mask covered its face, and its eyes glowed with red light.
The scene was incredibly detailed—far beyond any painting they had ever seen.
Genghis Khan froze.
Yelü Chucai's brush slipped slightly in his hand.
Neither man spoke.
They had seen paintings before—court paintings, religious murals, silk scrolls—but nothing like this.
The image before them appeared almost alive, as if the figure might step forward at any moment.
"The bow in this god's hands…" Genghis Khan murmured, stepping closer. "It is unlike any weapon I have seen. And this armor… seamless… without joints…"
Unable to restrain himself, he reached out toward the image.
His body blocked the projector's beam.
Suddenly, his shadow appeared on the cloth, obscuring the figure.
Genghis Khan paused, surprised.
"What is this?"
Chen Rong stepped forward respectfully.
"Great Khan, this is only an image projected by light. If the light is blocked, shadows will appear."
"I see…" Genghis Khan withdrew his hand, his gaze filled with fascination.
He returned to his seat slowly.
"Is this what the divine beings looked like?"
"Their armors varied," Chen Rong replied calmly. "But overall, they were similar. I have prepared more images for the Great Khan."
"There are more?" Genghis Khan's eyes brightened. "Show them."
Chen Rong nodded and began displaying the images one by one.
Sci-fi warships.
Massive floating cities.
Interstellar armor.
Planets viewed from space.
Strange alien landscapes.
Each image appeared more astonishing than the last.
The tent fell silent except for the faint hum of the projector.
Genghis Khan stared at each image with intense concentration.
His breathing grew heavier. Even Yelü Chucai, normally composed, leaned forward unconsciously.
These images shattered their understanding of the world.
After some time, Genghis Khan took a deep breath and lifted a cup of kumis, drinking slowly.
His face was slightly flushed—whether from excitement or the drink, even he could not tell.
"Mr. Chen," he said at last, "the armor worn by these divine beings… how do they put it on? I see no seams, no openings. It appears as though it is formed in one piece."
Chen Rong shook his head.
"I do not know, Great Khan. They never donned their armor before me. Only occasionally did they remove their helmets."
Genghis Khan nodded slowly.
"I, Temujin, have lived a life without regret," he said quietly. "To witness the appearance of divine beings from the heavens… this alone makes my life worthwhile."
He paused, then asked:
"Did these divine beings tell you where they dwell? Could we send riders to seek them?"
Chen Rong had anticipated this question.
He lowered his voice.
"Great Khan… they dwell among the stars."
Genghis Khan frowned slightly.
"Among the stars? You mean… the heavens?"
"Yes," Chen Rong said. "They live far beyond the sky. Even if we traveled for thousands of years, we could not reach them."
A trace of disappointment appeared in Genghis Khan's eyes.
"They live among the stars… so they cannot be found."
"Yes, Great Khan," Chen Rong replied calmly.