"Helper, I can't get up…"
"Same here—it's like something's pressing down on my back."
"Me too…"
A group of Beggar Sect elders near Qiao Feng struggled to rise, their faces flushed from the effort. Yet no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't move even an inch.
They couldn't stand—
—but they could still crawl.
Qiao Feng's expression was grim. "Don't move carelessly," he warned them. "Something… something terrifying may really be coming."
He didn't dare speak the name God of Eternity—because he didn't believe in gods or spirits.
But the reality before him was hard to ignore.
A demon monk who had lived for hundreds of years…
A blood-soaked altar…
And countless strange phenomena unfolding before their eyes…
This was beyond his comprehension.
His knowledge of martial arts and the world was simply insufficient to explain what was happening.
At that moment, Bai Shijing whispered beside him, "I heard that even ancient sages never saw visions like this when ascending. At most, the scent of flowers might carry for ten li, or divine clouds might stretch for three…"
"But now… the entire sky is filled with multicolored divine light. Helper, I fear that a god may truly descend…"
They were not fools.
More than a thousand martial artists had come to witness the event,
—and all of them now lay prostrate on the ground.
The atmosphere was stifling, the pressure crushing.
They felt like ants facing the wrath of heaven, trembling in fear, each wondering if they would survive.
Many had pale faces and trembling teeth.
Some fainted outright.
Others lost control of their bowels.
Qiao Feng lifted his gaze toward the altar—
—and was stunned.
Those gathered at the altar remained completely unaffected.
Not a single one of them was suppressed by the invisible pressure.
Suddenly, a flower petal drifted down in front of his face.
A delicate fragrance entered his nose.
A flower?
Where had it come from?
He looked up—
—and his mouth slowly fell open.
He saw the outline of a face in the sky.
From that face, petals drifted downward like rain.
Was this… a god?
The storm continued to rage, and black flames swirled in the sky.
But all the faithful followers of Dali Kingdom immediately closed their eyes and began to pray.
"Forgive our lowliness, O Lord…"
Gradually, their minds entered a dreamlike state.
Though their eyes were shut, vivid images appeared within.
They saw a figure suspended high above, silently watching the world below.
The scenery was familiar—
—Dali, its capital city, and all its surrounding lands.
Their own homes, streets, temples…
Then they saw themselves.
And then, the heavenly vision froze in place.
Murong Fu looked at the figure descending from the sky, eyes wide with awe.
The god… had truly arrived.
A true descent of the divine.
Trembling with excitement, Murong Fu dropped to his knees. "We welcome the descent of the God of Eternity!"
"…Rise."
The voice was ethereal and majestic, unquestionable in its authority.
The will of a god was absolute.
Murong Fu stood, eyes lowered in reverence.
Bathed in holy light, the god's figure stood before him—yet he dared not look directly.
Instead, he fixed his gaze on the toes of Liu Che's feet.
It felt disrespectful to meet a god's eyes directly.
It also felt… wrong.
This posture—head bowed low—was correct.
Liu Che nodded with satisfaction.
Yes.
A believer should be like this—always pious, always humble.
Willing to give everything in devotion.
"This demon monk," Liu Che declared, "has slaughtered hundreds of my followers and tried to obstruct the divine descent. As punishment—his soul shall become a wick, and for three thousand years shall it burn!"
As he spoke, his divine will shaped reality.
Though none could lift their heads, a vivid scene played out in their minds.
A black flame ignited on Xiaoyaozi's body.
Within seconds, his flesh was reduced to ash—leaving only his pale soul behind.
The god pointed into the distance.
A mountain split apart.
Boulders rumbled and shifted, forming a three-meter-tall stone lantern.
Xiaoyaozi's soul was sealed inside it.
A black flame—no larger than a wick—floated in and ignited.
"AHHHHHH—!"
The agonized shriek shook everyone's hearts.
Having just witnessed the power of the divine flame, none doubted the torment that followed.
Xiaoyaozi's soul was reduced to a single screaming head—
—and just as it was about to collapse, golden light appeared within the lantern, restoring it.
Then the black flame returned.
And again… and again…
A cycle of endless torment.
Only now did the people truly understand what the God of Eternity had meant.
Three thousand years.
An eternal punishment.
Fear bloomed in every heart.
Then the god's voice returned:
"Those who believe in us shall live forever—free from the suffering of the mortal world. A blessed beginning, a noble end."
"Those who reject us shall perish—like pigs and dogs, ignorant and unworthy."
"To those slain by the demon monk, I recognize your sincerity. You died to protect my altar—without fear. You deserve to be rewarded!"
A golden light swept over the blood-stained ground.
Fragments of flesh and broken limbs lifted into the sky.
Time reversed.
Before their very eyes, the fallen faithful were reassembled—
—flesh restored, breath returning.
Murong Fu, though he'd seen divine resurrection in visions before, was stunned to witness it with his own eyes.
It was just as the god said—those who believe shall never truly die.
Even the King of Hades must bow to the will of this deity!
It was true, then:
God's grace is vast as the ocean—
His might, terrifying as hell.
The resurrected followers knelt at once, eyes misty with gratitude.
"Behold the God of Eternity! We—your unworthy believers—have failed you."
They felt ashamed.
Because of their weakness, the god had been forced to expend divine power to resurrect them.
Had they been stronger, it wouldn't have come to this.
Liu Che's tone was calm:
"You need not kneel so. As my followers, you must stand and face the world. To defend the faith and die in its name is your honor."
"I shall never look down upon you.
You are my people. My children.
What parent would ever despise their own?"
Tears fell freely.
What kind of god was this?
Even now, he defended them—comforted them.
Even though it was their fault the demon monk wreaked havoc,
—even though their power had been lacking.
Still…
…He forgave them.
Liu Che raised a hand.
Countless beams of divine light descended upon the kneeling faithful.
"I grant you a thousand years of cultivation, and supreme techniques.
Henceforth, protect this faith from all humiliation and slander!"
Suddenly, every follower felt their strength surge.
They ascended rapidly—
—breaking through to the Golden Core (Jindan) realm.
In this world, the power levels were:
Third-rate, second-rate, first-rate masters…
…followed by Innate Realm, Land Immortals, and then Golden Core.
And now, hundreds had leapt straight to Jindan.
Their faces flushed red with emotion.
Their hearts surged with loyalty.
"We will serve our god without hesitation!"
"We will die in foreign lands if needed!"
"Even if our souls perish—we shall never retreat!"
Each follower received a divine vision—
—a choice of cultivation techniques:
Sword arts, fist styles, weapon skills…
The most chosen was the Tiangang Imperial Sword Technique.
After all, for any native of the East, who didn't dream of flying through the skies on a sword?
Liu Che's lips moved.
"Murong Fu."
"Your follower is here."
"You've done well, but remember: do not grow arrogant. Do not scorn others, or elevate yourself above the people."
"Yes, my lord."
Murong Fu accepted the rebuke humbly.
He knew the god was right.
As chief priest and divine emissary, he had no room for pride.
The divine loves all.
He must reflect that love.
Even his goal of restoring his nation had long since crumbled into ash.
"To prevent further incidents like this, I now promote you."
"From this day forward, you are a Three-Star Divine Envoy."
"Thank you, great god… for your grace…" Murong Fu choked on his words.
All his efforts had finally been acknowledged.
It was not easy to reach this point.
"Accept your gift," the god said.
"As a Three-Star Divine Envoy, you shall gain the strength and authority befitting your post."
In Murong Fu's mind, a golden lotus bloomed.
It separated into three glowing Dao Fruits.
[Sword Fairy]
[Martial Way]
[Alchemist]
The Sword Fairy cultivates their life-bound sword, slaying enemies through will alone—where the mind goes, the sword follows.
The Martial Artist tempers the body itself, opening the heavens with fists and splitting the earth with every step. This is the path of physical sanctification.
The Alchemist sacrifices and refines all things into pills, helping the world transcend suffering, gathering the essence of the sun and moon to produce powerful elixirs.
Three paths.
Three choices.
After careful thought, Murong Fu chose the path of the Sword Fairy.
How can a man live his whole life without once standing upon a flying sword?
More than just sword riding, the Sword Fairy cultivates life-bound sword qi.
Breaking a mountain or river with a single swing is but the beginning.
Mysteries without end lie within this path.
This was the fruit of effort.
This was divine grace.
With such a Dao Fruit, Murong Fu knew:
In this world, I am now invincible.
In the days to come, he would cultivate diligently, expanding territory in the name of his god.
Perhaps—just perhaps—he could ascend to the Divine Realm.
Who doesn't long for immortality?
The moment Murong Fu selected his Dao Fruit, a pure white sword embryo was born within his dantian.
From the heavens, divine clouds cascaded down in celebration of the sword's birth.
At the same time, a cultivation technique appeared in his mind:
Immortal Skill: [Four Imperial Swords of Heaven and Earth]
The technique's brilliance lay in one word—Imperial.
Fueled by qi and immortal essence, it controlled four profound sword paths:
Ghost-Commanding Sword – Harnesses the spirits of thousands of ghosts, slaying enemies with icy ghostly qi.
Sun-Yang Sword – Absorbs sunlight, unleashing pure Yang energy to incinerate foes.
Divine-Guarding Sword – Shields the mind and soul, slaying without form.
Elemental Sword – Commands the raw elements of the world, conjuring devastating elemental attacks.
These four forms encompassed the great Dao of Heaven and Earth.
The sword embryo solidified, and the cultivation art activated on its own.
Murong Fu's old true qi was completely replaced with a new, divine energy.
His power, already that of a Land Immortal, continued to skyrocket:
Jindan → Nascent Soul → Soul Formation → Great Perfection
He broke through five realms in an instant.
His sword qi pierced the clouds, forming a long black-and-white blade of divine radiance in the sky.
Murong Fu rose into the air, black smoke evaporating from his body as his flesh transformed into flawless jade.
No flaws.
No blemishes.
This was his transformation.
He now stood only one step away from true immortality.
But… this world was lacking.
There was no spiritual energy, no destiny for transcendence.
To become a true immortal here, Liu Che would need to intervene again.
Without divine action, this was Murong Fu's limit.
It was a gentle reminder—
—to drive him toward further diligence.
In that moment, Murong Fu opened his eyes.
Feeling the vast strength flowing within, he was filled with awe.
So powerful…
Even without drawing his sword, he could traverse space.
He knew—with a single strike, he could level mountains.
Even Li Shimin would pale in comparison.
Yet with the god standing before him, he dared not act.
He feared offending the divine.
He also understood that he now stood far above the other believers, even those blessed with a thousand years of cultivation.
If he so desired…
He could kill with a single thought.
The power was intoxicating.
Too intoxicating.
Murong Fu landed softly, bowed deeply, and said with reverence, "Thank you, my God, for this gift."
Liu Che nodded.
"Hold your heart steady. I am pleased with this state sacrifice. Next time, spread the faith even further."
"Yes," Murong Fu replied without hesitation.
The divine radiance faded, the mist lifting like morning fog.
Only when the pressure fully vanished did everyone realize—
The god had left.
And with him, the four maidens vanished too.
Though the god was gone, he had left behind his gospel.
Murong Fu looked up at the heavenly palace that had once hovered above, a hint of envy in his eyes.
"High Priest… has the god departed?" one of the kneeling believers asked nervously.
Murong Fu, now no longer restraining his presence, emitted a terrifying sword intent.
So overwhelming…
…no one dared approach him.
Even a glance made the heart tremble.
He nodded slightly, then turned to the crowd. "The god has returned to the heavens. But there is still much for us to do."
Qiao Feng and the other martial artists turned pale.
Thousands of eyes, filled with divine light, bore down on them.
Their knees buckled once again.
Pride?
Dignity?
In the face of the Eternal Faith…
They meant nothing.
Murong Fu turned to Qiao Feng. "You are Qiao Feng. Will you bring the Beggar Sect to join our Eternal Faith? The divine loves all—your birth will not be judged."
Qiao Feng's expression shifted, finally softening into a long sigh.
"…I greet the High Priest. I am willing to lead the Beggar Sect to join the Eternal Faith."
His tone held deep reluctance and helplessness.
Once, the world spoke of "South Murong, North Qiao."
Even Qiao Feng himself had looked forward to one day exchanging blows with Murong Fu.
But now…
North Qiao Feng was kneeling, begging for mercy.
Not from a man—
But from a faith.
Bai Shijing and the other elders exchanged looks, then scrambled forward like dogs, bowing repeatedly.
"We surrender! Please don't kill us!"
"Yes, we're willing to serve—willing to help you conquer the Song Kingdom! We have men and resources!"
After witnessing the god's descent, who would dare resist?
A single wave of the hand—hundreds resurrected.
A moment later—thousands empowered.
Their decades of cultivation weren't worth a fart.
A divine sneeze could erase them from the earth.
If not now, when would they surrender?
Everyone had heard—
The Eternal Faith needed more hands.
They didn't dare dream of becoming great cultivators,
—but if they could just survive longer…
—wasn't that enough?
As the Beggar Sect fell to its knees, the other martial factions followed suit.
Even Tianshan Child Grandma, bleeding and broken on the ground, chose to submit.
Her ancestors were practically howling from beyond the grave.
Refuse to submit?
Then just wait to die.
"High Priest," she said, struggling to rise. "My Lingjiu Palace commands thirty-six cave lords and seventy-two island masters. From this moment on, they are yours."
Murong Fu glanced at her, then gently shook his head.
"No. They are not mine. I am only the High Priest. Remember—God has no subordinates.
Only… believers."