“Wahhh…!”
The sound of weeping came from below.
Ye Fan stood before the magnificent divine temple at the mountain summit, looking down. The Crusaders who had come from the East seemed to have lost their anchor — on the verge of total collapse — crying out at the top of their lungs.
God was dead. The entire world seemed to have caved in — dark and hopeless. The two exalted divine clan powerhouses had been shot dead one by one like targets, and they could not bear it.
In the eyes of these devout believers, the whole of heaven and earth had lost its color. The world had reached its end. This was an unbearable weight and pain — their faith had crumbled.
“Glory and faith are our lives — fight for God!”
The crowd wept, fearless of death, charging toward the highest sacred mountain in Jerusalem, launching a last desperate assault, unable to accept this brutal reality.
Ye Fan said not a single word. He extended his fingers and swept them downward. A series of muffled sounds rang out as blood flowers bloomed, and lives faded — seven or eight of the knight commanders were wiped out.
He made no further move. He sat in cross-legged meditation at the highest sacred mountain and began to recite the Scripture of Salvation. His voice filled the heavens, auspicious rosy mist cascaded down like strings of jade ornaments, a thousand colors of radiance and ten thousand rays of auspicious light pouring down, filling every corner.
This scripture was the foremost of all the texts in the Three Caverns of the Dao sect — above it could dispel heavenly disasters and protect and uphold emperors; below it could ward off poison and calamity to bring salvation to the multitudes. Men and women alike were sheltered and guided, leading mortal forms to salvation.
“Immortal Dao values life, bringing salvation to the boundless…” Ye Fan’s Dharma voice was thunderous, rolling like the deep rumble of thunder. On the sacred mountain he preached and recited the scripture, and phenomena of every kind manifested throughout heaven and earth.
Ye Fan wished to journey to the West’s other sacred dwelling, but if the Crusade army were not first purged of their violent spirit, they might cause chaos in the Central Plains. They blocked his path, every one of them consumed with grief. And Ye Fan had no wish to create a catastrophe of slaughter — to cut down this many people would truly run against the harmony of heaven. Far better to transform them in spirit.
Auspicious signs descended from the heavens, and sweet springs welled from the earth. Withered trees put out new leaves. The sick and disabled were healed. Ye Fan spoke with the eloquence of a lotus flower in bloom. Auspicious signs of every kind manifested — immortal light brilliant and vivid, entwined with holy energy — and he seemed like a divine being bringing salvation to all living things.
From his mouth, one ancient character after another emerged, condensing into scripture and branding themselves into the void, purifying every person’s heart and tempering their primordial spirit — a spiritual “marrow-cleansing and bone-refinement.”
Ye Fan bore not a trace of killing intent. His entire being was like a ten-thousand-year ancient immortal, an imperishable sage. Every character that left his mouth was crystalline and luminous, transforming into radiance to illuminate the sky, sinking into the sea of consciousness of all present.
The murderous energy that had filled Jerusalem vanished completely — purified and dissolved by him. Many knights had already surged to close range, yet all of them cast down their weapons and stood in a trance. These were the most powerful of the group.
At the foot of the sacred mountain, an entire formation of Crusaders sat in cross-legged meditation, with expressions of solemn reverence — as though they had achieved sudden enlightenment and the Dao, their faces serene, every person having entered a state of harmony and peace.
Old cultivators in the distance who had not been caught in the wave watched this scene and felt every hair on their bodies stand on end. What manner of supernaturally inverted ability was this? Comparable to the divine acts of the ancients — opening one’s mouth to preach the Dao, gathering believers, capable of founding a religion in a single day that all under heaven would revere, passed down for ten thousand ages.
“Jing Zheng Zuo Shi. Po Ni Sha Ling. Bei Zhao Jun Jiang. Ji Nan Chan Kui. Jing Yi Sun Guang. Hun Yuan Jue Yuan…”
Ye Fan intoned the Daoist scripture. All around, orchids and orchid-grass covered the ground. A golden palace floated into view. Clouds of steam and rosy mist rose. Dharma forms appeared in multitudes. An immortal king sat cross-legged in the nine heavens as primal chaos nourished a single lotus.
Recite once — the hearts of the devout believers grow clear. Recite twice — worries depart, eyes and ears sharpen. Recite three times — the assembled bow their heads, mind and spirit made pure. Recite four times — dark ailments depart, fetal bones become light. Recite five times — fallen teeth grow back anew.
“Boundless, beyond measure. The ocean of the Dao gives rise to waves. The righteousness of the Dharma flows like a stream. It nourishes and grows the finest seedlings. Used to save those who are hungry and poor…”
Ye Fan’s phenomena gradually merged with his physical body. He sat exalted in the nine heavens, intoning the profound text of heaven and earth, and from all directions auspicious signs erupted and cascaded downward, wholly enveloping Jerusalem.
In the present age, such a great cultivator of supernatural power was almost never to be seen — and no one would pour their heart and Dao so completely into expounding the scriptures, bringing salvation to so many people. In ancient times, this would have been called a divine miracle made manifest!
This was not merely bringing salvation to believers — it gave them immense benefit as well. Whether one had a problem in one’s cultivation, or obstacles in one’s spiritual progress, all would be changed. One would receive immeasurable benefit.
In ancient times, this was a god walking the world — equivalent to opening a pure land in one corner of it. It was the supreme Dharma method for gathering belief. Once the recognition and reverence of all people under heaven was stirred, one could achieve Sainthood on the spot.
The hostile intent within the Sacred City of Jerusalem was completely gone, transformed into a land of peace and harmony. Ye Fan had dissolved all killing intent with his vast divine power, suppressing and settling this place.
And in this process, the young Heavenly Master Zhang Qingyang gained the most. Being a disciple of the Dao sect, he stood behind Ye Fan in the role of protector, and felt as though a window had opened before him — his cultivation advanced, and he broke through a minor sub-realm.
“Master, found a religion — even the ancient divine miracles are nothing compared to this. Everyone below has been transformed by you and has become a devout believer.” He said in a trembling voice.
“The Heavenly Court.” Ye Fan breathed these two words — rolling like thunder, filling the heavens — yet told Zhang Qingyang that in time he might spread the teaching, but not yet.
Zhang Qingyang nodded. This would become a grand and far-reaching goal he would strive toward. The renowned Zhang Zhenren thus set out upon a path of founding a Dao tradition.
In the end, Ye Fan ceased displaying his cultivation, ceased reciting the scripture. On the mountain below, people sat cross-legged covering the ground — every one bright-eyed and vital, all killing intent fully abandoned, having been purified in spirit.
He rose to his full height. Below, a multitude of people made a pilgrimage, their eyes filled with boundless devotion, all in prayer — willing to follow him and travel to the Vatican to demand the return of the Central Plains’ ancestral artifacts.
Zhang Qingyang took it upon himself to announce Ye Fan’s divine title in this moment — proclaiming him the Heavenly Emperor. At once, cries of acclaim rang out endlessly, filling heaven and earth.
Long Xiaoqi, Zhan Yifan, and the others exchanged glances. They felt that Zhang Qingyang truly had the makings of a divine charlatan — in a flash he had transformed a crowd of enemies into believers. It was a little hard to believe.
“Master, please transmit to me the complete and unabridged Scripture of Salvation.” Zhang Qingyang said with great sincerity.
Ye Fan extended a hand and touched a finger between his brows. A wash of clear radiance sank into Zhang Qingyang’s mind, imprinting within it an intricate and profound scripture — and along with it, the marks of Ye Fan’s own comprehension, including all the details and processes of his enlightenment as he had studied it. This would allow Zhang Qingyang to understand it quickly and thoroughly.
This was no longer a pure Scripture of Salvation. Within it were also mixed the wondrous essences of the Daoist Scripture, the Western Emperor Scripture, the Hengyu Scripture, and many other texts capable of saving the primordial spirit — forming a unique and singular ancient scripture.
“It is time to depart.” Ye Fan gazed into the distance, and set out upon the road.
“Heavenly Emperor!”
At the foot of the sacred mountain, a multitude of devout believers cried out in unison, filling the heavens. In the distance, within the divine halls of the other two religions, many elders watched in open-mouthed disbelief, while even the divine beings they revered remained silent, none daring to act.
Ye Fan descended the mountain. Many followed in his wake, a great procession streaming out of Jerusalem, heading into the distance.
“I will let the flower of the Heavenly Court Dao tradition bloom in every corner of the world. I hereby found this teaching for eternity.” Zhang Qingyang declared, deeply stirred.
“Zhang Qingyang — could it be you were accidentally transformed by Master yourself?” The others muttered, half joking.
“You do not understand. To found a teaching for eternity… I vaguely feel as though I have sensed something — I cannot fully describe it yet.” Zhang Qingyang said, his expression distant and faraway.
The Vatican — in the words of ancient times, the Land of the Prophets — was the most celebrated sacred dwelling of the Western Dao lineage, the resting ground of ancient divine beings since time immemorial, clothed in endless myth and legend.
Ye Fan traveled west. Before long after departing Jerusalem, news of everything that had occurred spread through every available channel, sending the entire Western cultivation world into tremendous upheaval.
The last two divine clan members had been shot dead. All glory and radiance had gone dim. And the Crusade army had become his honor guard, his devout followers, and was now marching westward.
The Demon Travels the West!
Many ancient families could no longer sit still. The demon had emerged from the Central Plains and was moving with ferocious momentum — clearly here to overturn the Western Dao lineage.
On this Dark Day, every great Dao lineage was struck with dread. The demon from the Central Plains was on a western march to conquer all — no one had imagined events would develop to this point. The situation had become gravely serious.
Every divine clan member remaining in the world was dead. Now — was there anyone who could subdue this demon from the Central Plains?
“The Vatican is in peril. Its foundations may run deep, but in this end-of-the-law age it is simply not enough. No one can suppress this demon.”
“Incorrect — that is the Lord of the Heavenly Court. Mind yourself, or he will come to transform you.”
“What should we do? Should we go to their aid?”
“There is no need to worry. If I am not mistaken, there are Holy Knights who survived from the Dark Age, and they may still possess the ability to put up a fight.”
…
Debate erupted from every direction. The matter of Ye Fan transforming the Crusade army into believers left people overwhelmingly shaken — some could not accept this reality and were deeply rattled.
After circling the Vatican briefly, Ye Fan entered the ancient grand formation and stepped into a primordial land — where ancient trees twisted like dragons, old medicinal herbs perfumed the air. It was one of the rarest cultivation sanctuaries in existence, with a wild, untamed primordial aura pressing outward from every direction.
Since ancient times, this land had been a fertile ground that nurtured the extraordinary. Sages had stood guard here through every generation. With the passing of the ages that was no longer possible — yet it was still held in awe.
This was an ancient cultivation ground, distinct from the Vatican that outsiders and ordinary believers knew — but it could also draw upon the belief-power of the outside world.
Within the Vatican, a gathering of important figures wore expressions of anxiety and deeply furrowed brows. The demon from the Central Plains had arrived at their door, and they had no idea what to do.
Yet there were also some who burst out laughing — greatly relieved — saying: “Is it not wonderful that the divine clan members are dead? The Bible is the crystallization of wisdom; Christ is a venerable sage. But those foreign divine clan members — what were they?! When the time comes, let us go and welcome the demon from the Central Plains. Our doctrine is great. The existence of God gives the people of the world a spiritual foundation — it was never meant to supply belief-power for a few foreign divine clan members to cultivate with.”
In another great hall, a group of people were at a complete loss, all of them deeply apprehensive. The divine clan members were dead — how could the Vatican resist?
In the end, the Pope spoke. His expression was as tranquil as still water: “It is of no consequence. God may not be all-powerful, but our Church is all-capable.”
“Your Holiness the Pope — do you have a plan? The demon from the Central Plains has reached an absolute extreme of power.” Someone showed a look of shock and could not stop themselves from asking.
“Do you know why the divine clan powerhouses have always lived only in Jerusalem and have never dared come to this ancient cultivation ground? Because they feared something here. Within this place resides the most powerful being under the entire vault of the stars!” The Pope’s eyes were deep as the sea and unfathomable. He sat above, as still as a mountain.
“Then why did you watch while they were killed?” Someone asked with alarm.
“What were they? Merely a cooperative arrangement. In the past, their occasional displays of divine miracles were useful — but they were never a true God. They were simply gods that we established, disposable at any time.”
The Pope’s hair was thick and lustrous, glowing with light. His complexion was snow-white and crystalline. His eyes were as deep as the starry sky. Seated above, his every movement left traces of the Dao’s trajectory in its wake — like a god.