The divine knight had lost. The dragon spear stood planted in the earth. He sat cross-legged upon the ground — unmoving, his life slowly fading.

The various Western churches could not accept it. It was a burden too heavy to bear. The demon walked through the West — who could stand against him?

“Why has this come to pass? He is the single greatest genius our Western lands have seen in tens of thousands of years — talent that shook all of antiquity. Even the sages who have already passed spoke in his praise. Why did he lose?”

The people could not accept it. The small number who knew the truth in particular could not bear it. The man who had bathed in the blood of a god — his body indestructible, at the absolute pinnacle — now bore cracks across his entire form, his life nearly extinguished.

Ye Fan stood in the center of the field, still and unmoving, his gaze fixed upon the Pope beneath the cross on the sacred mountain. Perhaps this was his final enemy in the Western lands.

Suddenly, divine horses trod through the sky. A group of young people gathered around a golden-haired young woman blazing with radiance like the sun itself, charging out from a primordial forest. All of them rode atop exotic beasts — only the young woman in the center rode upon a unicorn that seemed sculpted from white jade, radiating holy light.

Many of the knights came from various different families — the finest young talents of the present age. Together with the Vatican’s holy maiden, they formed a single formation, standing at different positions, chanting an ancient incantation together.

This was one of the Western lands’ most sacred forms of prayer. These young people all possessed the most devout faith — each one bearing a silver gleaming holy cross. They were deploying an ancient forbidden technique.

The holy maiden was tall and slender, draped in gauzy robes, her skin like polished jade, her magnificent face filled with an expression of sanctity. Golden light shimmered in her long hair as she rode the unicorn — like the daughter of a god.

Together, these people, with the most sincere hearts, channeled the sacred faith-power of the entire Western world — vast and boundless, a surging ocean of mental intent roaring across the heavens.

The scene was awe-inspiring. Sacred and enormous — as though heaven and earth were about to overturn!

Not only Zhang Qingyang, the Phoenix Celestial Woman, and the others went pale — even Ye Fan’s expression grew grave. This was the mental intent of all living beings in the West, drawn here by them — boundless and immeasurable. No single person could contend against it!

The heavens themselves were pressed downward under its weight — a silver ocean, pure as moonlight. The sky filled with mental intent, every thread winding and twining together, transforming into an ocean of life.

BOOM!

The holy maiden of the Vatican waved her slender jade hand, and in the sky a ten-thousand-foot bolt of lightning descended — seeking to strike down Ye Fan with the faith-power of all living beings.

Without question, this was the most pure and sacred of forces. For those who believed in the Vatican, being bathed in this radiance could cure a hundred ailments and dissolve ten thousand calamities.

Yet for a mortal enemy, one without a shred of faith, this would become the most terrible of poisons. To be touched by it was to burn ferociously — to be incinerated in that holy radiance and reduced to ashes.

This was precisely why dark beings that stood against the Vatican ultimately faced death by fire — to be dissolved in the eternal sacred light into the dust of catastrophe. Without faith, this was the most lethal wound.

Ye Fan could not possibly hold faith in the Vatican. The Pope commanded the holy maiden and the most devout of believers to act now — it was undoubtedly terrible and deadly.

All-encompassing holy light rained down — as though tens of thousands of divine moons hung above his head. This place had become an ocean formed by the Milky Way itself. He was completely enveloped.

“God is not all-powerful — but our teachings are without limit.” The Pope stood upon the sacred mountain, like a mountain range pressing down upon all, a vast star-sea within the depths of his eyes, looking down upon all living beings like a celestial deity.

Many of the faithful were singing hymns — heavenly music, each one of them bathed in a gentle, radiant light, each one otherworldly and transcendent, every one a divine envoy from the heavenly realm.

The holy maiden was the most vibrant of all — golden hair like a waterfall, her pale face an expression of purity, blue eyes like gems sparkling. She chanted the incantation, channeling the pure ocean of mental intent to refine and dissolve Ye Fan.

In this moment, every person held their breath. This was an absolute kill — deploying the accumulated power of the Vatican’s immeasurably long ages, using the ocean of mental intent to dissolve the demon from the Central Plains. It was perhaps the only remaining method.

Ye Fan truly was being subjected to a heavenly might. The vast and boundless sky pressed entirely down upon him, shaking bones and flesh alike to the point of breaking.

A person’s strength has its limits. He was, after all, only a being of flesh and blood — not an immortal, never proven to exist.

This was the heavenly might!

At this moment, he alone was contending against the fundamental power source of the entire Western Dao tradition, enduring hardship that ordinary people could not imagine. The mental intent channeled by the holy maiden and the others was beyond all compare.

“Master!” Zhang Qingyang cried out, having thought he was witnessing a future of immovable immortality — yet this was the scene before him.

Ye Fan gritted his teeth. This was not only the power of faith — it was the Vatican’s destroying holy light — and it was this immense and vast, exceeding what he had anticipated.

An ordinary person may be very weak — in the eyes of a cultivator, no more than an ant. But thousands upon thousands — hundreds of thousands, millions, tens of millions, over a hundred million — became terrifying. Limitless mental intent bearing down was sufficient to destroy a sage.

Ye Fan’s entire body — golden blood — boiling. Boundless treasure-light blazed from every pore. He recited ancient sutras, his heart clear and empty. He endured the pain of flesh grinding to dust, resisting with all his might.

He tried to break outward — yet was as though mired deep in mud, unable to move. The Dao Sutra, the Unending Sutra, the Boundless Cosmos Sutra — all rang out, each of his body’s secret realms releasing the harmonizing sound of Dao.

“Vast as a starry sea — yet unable to concentrate to a single point. That way, you cannot pierce through me or dissolve me.”

Ye Fan calmed himself. Though besieged by great calamity, though the multitudes’ mental intent transformed into holy light was highly lethal — after all this time it still had not dissolved him into dust.

“If a force this vast were concentrated into a single holy sword, it would be sufficient to destroy a great sage. Coming at me thread by thread like this — it may grind me away in time, but it requires enough time!”

Ye Fan settled down completely, fear gone from his heart — treating it as a form of tempering. For he had thought of a legend, and now saw it manifested before him — karmic fire!

“Evil karma harms people, just as fire…” He reached sudden enlightenment. His heart became tranquil, and nothing stirred within it any further.

He held no faith in the Vatican. In the eyes of the Western Dao tradition, he was a heretic, a sinner, filled with karmic power.

Conversely — the pure, clean faith-power of the Vatican’s many believers was, to him, karmic fire — and at this moment it was inflicting upon him the pain of burning body and spirit alike.

Regarding karmic fire, Buddhist teachings held the most detailed and terrible of legends. It was called the supreme flame — the most terrifying of all!

It was the flame condensed from the karmic forces of all living beings. It was capable of burning ancient bodhisattvas and all the Buddhas to ash — extinguishing ancient divine beings — nothing whatsoever could stop it.

All the sins of the world gathered together became karmic fire. Ye Fan stood in opposition to the faith of the West — and was thus contending against the living beings of that side. Limitless will bearing down upon him was that karmic fire.

When Shakyamuni attained enlightenment, it was said he endured the burning of karmic fire — taking upon himself the sins of all the faithful, channeling the karmic fire of all living beings, using a single Bodhi tree to endure every form of karmic force. The fire burned but he was not destroyed — and he achieved the fruit of the Dao.

When Laozi passed westward through the Han Gu Pass, Yin Xi witnessed purple energy coming from the east — vast and magnificent for thirty thousand miles, blotting out the sky. Though passed down in legend as auspicious and noble energy, it was equally possible that it was the fire of the Dao drawn from all living beings to temper his body.

The so-called account of Laozi traveling west to instruct the foreign tribes may also have held another layer of meaning and purpose.

Ye Fan turned these thoughts over in his mind and naturally settled down. He treated all of this as a form of tempering. Predecessors close to reaching the quasi-Emperor level were only then given such an opportunity — only then did they dare use the fire of the hearts of all living beings to forge their bodies.

Yet here he was at his current cultivation level, already encountering such a circumstance. If he could break through, this was not without its own Dao fruit — using a single body’s divine arts and Dao foundations to contend against the most vast faith-power in the Western lands.

Fortunately, the silver ocean of pure mental intent had not condensed into a sword, had not condensed into a spear, had not concentrated to a single point. It only diffused outward — formless and spreading, filling every corner.

This left Ye Fan with the possibility of resistance. As time went on, he brought out the Ten Thousand Things’ Mother Qi Cauldron, to endure the limitless karmic fire together with him.

Long stretches of time passed. The onlookers were dumbfounded. They watched one person and one cauldron rise and fall within the silver ocean of faith — though holy light burned upon them, he was not destroyed. Every person became afraid.

In the past, when the Vatican cast forth a single beam of sacred light, every dark enemy would be dissolved into ashes — none could withstand it at all. Yet now, the faith-power of the entire Western land had been drawn together, flowing in without end — and it could not dissolve the demon from the Central Plains. This was too terrifying.

Ye Fan’s heart grew ever clearer and more empty. Though he endured enormous suffering, this was beneficial — hammered and refined, tempering body and divine sense alike. Burned yet unable to die, his vitality would only grow more powerful.

“What is being burned away is not my body — but the various attachments within my heart. All sins add themselves to my person — let the fire burn away the past. Through the Dao, I shall live eternally.” Ye Fan murmured. His body sustained injury — yet it recovered continuously. His will was iron. He resisted without bending.

The cauldron steadily levitated an inch above him, enduring calamity at his side, shimmering before his brow — like an undying monument inscribed with the fragments of his past Dao enlightenment.

This was not enduring a tribulation. This was not severing the Dao. Yet it surpassed both these things. In a certain sense, he had already severed the Dao — reborn in the fire. But it had not received the acknowledgment of heaven and earth.

For his strength was already long at the necessary level. What was needed was only a Dao fruit — to step over the great Dao of heaven and earth, to sever his own path in the contrary direction.

Ye Fan and the cauldron rose and fell together, becoming an eternal light — more powerful than the blazing sacred fire formed by the boundless ocean of mental intent.

Two hours later, he brought out the black arrow and other objects, to receive the baptism together. He also brought out the seed of the Bodhi Sacred Tree, to refine it repeatedly.

In the past, when he was in the Northern Dipper star domain, he had given this object to Tong Tong and the others for their use — but later, after reclaiming it and using it within the fire domain, he had discovered anomalies. The imprint of Shakyamuni was upon it. He had eventually used immortal fire to erase it completely and pressed his own mark upon it — but still felt some unease and had not given it to his disciples again.

Now in this place, he used the limitless karmic fire to begin a final, extreme refinement — burning through it until it was completely transparent. He felt this object connected with his body and mind, bearing not a trace of anyone else’s imprint. He was completely at ease.

Thereafter, using his divine sense as the seal, he refined this object tens of thousands of times until the patterns upon it blended as though born naturally — reborn through fire. His form was resurrected within it — like a god, like a demon!

BOOM!

Ye Fan’s entire body blazed with boundless immortal light. The cauldron at his brow merged with him, inseparable. Around him the black arrow, the Bodhi seed, the Dao Sutra, the Origin Heaven Scroll, and other objects rose and fell — a magnificent spectacle, releasing an aura that could swallow heaven and expel earth.

Finally, he rose to his full height. The vast and pure faith-power like an ocean could not burn him away. He broke free — his entire body bathed in undying holy radiance.

HUM!

The cauldron at his brow trembled softly and flew into the distance, settling above Zhang Qingyang’s head. The Bodhi seed flew from his hand into the grasp of the Little Celestial Master.

“Before I enter the star domain, these two sacred objects shall be kept by you. They are the sacred instruments through which my teachings are transmitted — carry the Celestial Court’s inheritance forward and let it flourish.”

Ye Fan then spoke in a low voice, giving Zhang Qingyang specific instructions and warnings. The cauldron was inscribed with his Dao — it was the foremost sacred object. The Bodhi seed was merely its outward appearance — they must not be confused.

All the people of the West were dumbstruck. Even the vast faith-power and the boundless holy light could not incinerate Ye Fan into ashes. What was to be done now?

The Vatican’s holy maiden and the devout believers stared vacantly for a moment. The pure mental intent naturally began to dissipate of its own accord, no longer available for their use.

Ye Fan raised a hand and pressed a single finger forward. Brilliant holy radiance rained down from the sky, bathing all the people before him in its light. Upon the white-jade-like unicorn, the holy maiden snapped back to herself — the light in her beautiful eyes shifted and changed, and then along with all the other young people, she was converted. They chanted the name of the Celestial Emperor and walked toward him.

“Two thousand years. I have not raised my hand against anyone in two thousand years.” The Pope spoke to himself, like an ancient deity looking down upon everything below. Within his eyes, suns were destroyed and stars sank — visions that chilled all who beheld them.