Chapter 268: Power of Belief

The “Discourse on Nations” was near completion, yet the brush pen in Old Master Fan’s hand had rotted away.

The immense power gathered from the doctrines filling the sky had surged to its peak. Just as this grand composition was about to fully form and bring everything under its command, the vanishing of the final stroke caused it to plummet downward, like a great wave that had aspired to challenge the heavens above only to lose its force and crash down disastrously before ever reaching the sky, its momentum hard to halt.

“How could this happen?”

“Who could be scheming against me?”

The wild and crazy expression still lingered on Old Master Fan’s face when it was swiftly replaced by sheer panic. Furious, he screamed and yelled. He watched helplessly as the glowing doctrines filling half the sky before him began to dim. He even stretched out his hand uselessly, as if trying to grasp them back…

“No one is scheming against you…”

The Mountain River Seal in his grasp suddenly emitted a dark, murky light. Within that light was a shadow only visible to Old Master Fan himself. This shadow was of a young man—his mortal enemy, the young Prefect of Wuhe County. It was this very person who had dug the big trap (the crater meant for the Demon Hound) he’d fallen into earlier. And now, invisible to others, the young man was smiling coldly at Old Master Fan: “At this point, will you still cling to using the Mountain River Seal granted by the Divine Kings to chase fame for yourself?”

“Old Master, your deeds are exposed!”

“The Divine Kings have learned of your connection to the Path of Heaven assassins and your collusion in the attempted murder of Second Young Master Fang. How could they possibly let you keep wielding this Mountain River Seal?

“Hah! So-called Old Scholar, living saint for generations—truly, you seem less and less aware of reality with each passing day. Second Young Master Fang is the brother of Immortal Master Fang Chi, and you dared plot his death? And to cover up the Demon Hound incident, you went over the heads of Yuan Nation, seeking a powerful backer in Zhaoge? This humble Yun Xiao would like to ask you, on behalf of our Divine Kings of Yuan Nation: just how much trouble do you intend to bring upon my Yuan Nation before you stop?”

“…”

While these shadows and words invaded Old Master Fan’s mind, the Mountain River Seal he had been clutching desperately seemed to come to life. It struggled violently, then suddenly wrenched itself free from his grasp. Transforming into a brilliant light, it shot towards the sky to escape.

Countless spectators felt their hearts leap into their throats witnessing this.

The Mountain River Seal was the symbol of authority bestowed upon Old Master Fan by Yuan Nation. Its removal signified the stripping away of his power and position.

“Yun Xiao, you insolent brat! You dare harm me?!?”

Shock and rage surged through Old Master Fan, and he lunged after the fleeing seal. But he possessed no magical skill in movement; how could he ever hope to catch it?

Stumbling a few steps, he dejectedly turned. Then he saw it — countless eyes fixed upon him, both above and below: eyes filled with sympathy, pity, and simmering hatred.

This pierced his heart like a knife. For the first time in his life, overwhelming shame flooded his being, a burning heat rushing to his head.

“You all wish to harm me…”

“All of you hide malicious intentions… unable to tolerate my pure, unsullied reputation…”

“Kill… every last one of you deserves death!”

Amidst his maniacal roar, he suddenly slapped his own forehead forcefully. A strange shift occurred in his aura. Strands of golden light rose from the crown of his head, coalescing into a shadowy projection of himself — a figure clad in a scholarly blue robe, holding a vermillion brush. He looked imposing and stern, naturally awe-inspiring without needing anger, enveloped in an aura of noble righteousness… like an ancient, venerable Confucian scholar standing firm against the world, bearing the weight of fate itself, holding the brush that inscribes the ultimate truths of the Great Dao…

“Nascent Soul Radiance…?”

Someone gasped in utter astonishment. “Could Old Master Fan be nearing Nascent Soul Formation?”

That shadow was Old Master Fan’s projection onto the world — the mark he intended to leave upon the mortal realm.

If this mark could receive sufficient nourishment, it would allow him to transcend his mortal form, approaching godhood, pushing past the boundaries of a Nascent Soul Great Cultivator.

“For decades, I guarded the purity of Qingjiang enduring poverty, cherishing my name. I maintained this noble reputation day after day for eons. You think harming me is so simple? So you took my authority? So you ruined my sacred brush? So you tarnished my fame? So what?”

Old Master Fan’s voice rolled like muffled thunder.

“As long as I… slay the Ghost Official… seal the Spirit Well… I will still remain… far beyond the reach of your petty slanders!”

As his thunderous voice reverberated throughout Qingjiang’s districts, he strode forward, his powerful grasp aimed at Young Sect Master Xu suspended in the air.

Behind him now, the immense phantom projection drew upon limitless power flowing from the vast Qingjiang River, the entire Yuan Nation, even the whole of Great Xia itself. This unleashed power became almost visible as it coalesced. The phantom expanded with terrifying speed, becoming increasingly solid as endless force swirled around it. Shrouded in boundless divine might, it reached out towards Young Sect Master Xu.

…

“What is that?”

Inside the small building, Yu Qingli frowned, asking the question.

“His reputation.”

Fang Cun answered slowly. “The credibility and respect he nurtured over decades will not shatter easily. Those who believe in him are numerous and still faithful. Using the method from the Classic of Spirits, he seeks to ascend toward godhood through self-deification… using it to annihilate all his enemies…”

Hearing this, He Zhenzhang’s face turned deathly pale. “Your sect leader is finished…”

Fang Cun merely smiled faintly and shook his head. “He won’t be.”

…

Young Sect Master Xu was now free. The sea of doctrines filling the sky, lacking its final defining stroke, had completely dissipated. As for those who had trapped him earlier—the Qi Refiners of the Seven Clans and the county mansion’s Chief Wardens—they had already scrambled back in panic the moment Old Master Fan’s Mountain River Seal was taken. Now they stood bewildered and cowed, staring only at this raving old master…

The freed Young Sect Master Xu, however, faced Old Master Fan’s descending spectral palm boldly, not attempting any evasion.

He simply raised his hand, thrusting it straight up to meet the attack.

Within his own body, a radiant divine light surged unexpectedly. It seemed to transform the very Demonic Qi swirling around him into potent divine will.

Its nature felt diametrically opposed to the power Old Master Fan wielded.

Old Master Fan’s Nascent Soul Radiance empowered him, making him appear imposing yet intrinsically hollow. In contrast, Young Sect Master Xu’s hidden divine essence signified inner solidity masking outward vulnerability. These two entirely distinct forces collided violently in mid-air as their wills clashed…

Crackle…

Young Sect Master Xu was slammed downward relentlessly by the sheer force.

The chasm between his own power and the vast force Old Master Fan could command was just too large.

In this clash of divine powers, he stood virtually no chance of defense.

This downward trajectory, however, lasted only a split second. When his body dropped to about ten meters above the ground, it abruptly halted. Then, streaks of divine light erupted from him, forcibly propelling him skyward. His upward ascent carried an indescribably monumental force. It instantly shattered and vaporized the magical power Old Master Fan had manifested as a giant spectral hand. With his robes snapping fiercely in the wind, Young Sect Master Xu surged directly to the apex of his ascent.

He now hovered high above Old Master Fan.

And Old Master Fan… seemed to age decades in that moment. He felt the borrowed power draining from him at a terrifying speed—melting away like snow struck by scalding water. This dissipation surged right into his physical body. Terror seized him.

“What happened… What trick have you used against me now?!” He shrieked, his voice raw with panic.

“We did nothing to you!”

Young Sect Master Xu looked down upon him, shaking his head slowly from his elevated position. “You have done this to yourself.”

As he spoke, a look of disgust even crossed his face. “You blame others endlessly, claiming they wish to harm you. Yet you wield the power of the people’s belief! Why not trace its flow, follow its current? See for yourself why it has led here?”

He coolly clasped his hands behind his back. “Watch. I will not attack you now.”

Filled with desperate confusion, Old Master Fan indeed looked. At this moment, comprehension utterly eluded him.

This path of power stemmed from the “Nascent Soul Formation” chapter within the Classic of Spirits. Its foundation was the unwavering trust and reverence the Qingjiang people held for him—his final, ultimate reserve of strength. Because this trust and reverence did not derive from his official position as Prefect, but stemmed directly from the populace, from the multitudes who believed in him. Logically, from every angle, this bedrock of belief should not crumble so rapidly…

Even if the citizens of Qingjiang City now believed he was the Ghost Official, a sizable portion remained confused, slow to fully renounce him. And for the wider expanse of Qingjiang Region, far too many people remained unaware of the city’s turmoil, still likely placing faith in their Prefect.

So how… did this collapse occur?

…

Old Master Fan quickly traced the source, seeking the answer.

He saw a group of commoners, all cursing him, denouncing him with great hatred. Their combined will felt like potent poison entering his system.

It was precisely because he had recklessly drawn upon every available ounce of belief power to face the immediate crisis that this concentrated venom had also flowed into his Nascent Soul Radiance. It had polluted his power, once as strong and dependable as a unified current. Like mixing poison into powerful medicine. That was why he had lost that crucial exchange. Just as Young Sect Master Xu said—he hadn’t truly been defeated by Young Sect Master Xu, but by his own frantic grasping.

But… how did such concentrated venom, such focused curses, come into being?

Why were so many pouring their desire forearly for his painful death into this reservoir?

…

“The people.”

Young Sect Master Xu gazed down at Old Master Fan’s terrified expression and spoke softly: “The surviving people… from around Crow Mountain.”

His gaze toward Old Master Fan suddenly turned searingly fierce. His voice dropped to a threatening growl: “You may fool the world. But how could you ever fool them? They know the truth! They know that you, as their Prefect, abandoned them for months to be oppressed and devoured by the Demon Race!”

“More! They witnessed it firsthand—when sect master Qin’s forces were closing in to slay the rampaging Demon Hound, how you projected an avatar, desperately scrambling to stop them from finishing the beast off…”

As Young Sect Master Xu’s words reached him, Old Master Fan’s face drained of all color. It was the pallor of a man who had just seen a ghost.

Young Sect Master Xu closed the distance, step by deliberate step. His voice was detached, cold, yet each syllable drove like bitter ice into Old Master Fan’s soul: “Therefore… from that very instant… they began praying. Night and day. Down to every last child. Their prayer? A singular, desperate curse: for you to die. For you to perish horribly. To suffer torment for ten thousand ages.”

Old Master Fan’s face instantly turned an ashen, corpse-like grey, utterly bloodless. Truly, he looked as if he had just seen death itself.