Chapter 463: Power of Faith

The shockwave swept across the heavens, engulfing everything in its path.

Countless beings watched the scene blankly as the terrifying explosion continued to expand, its golden radiance illuminating the blood red skies.

The surrounding mountains had already been reduced to nothingness, and the ground beneath the battlefield had sunk several hundred feet.

Even the void itself seemed to have been torn apart, leaving behind countless spatial cracks that slowly devoured the surrounding Spirit Qi.

Within the very center of this destruction, a figure staggered backwards in a disheveled manner.

The woman in pale golden robes was forced to retreat hundreds of steps before she finally managed to stabilize her body.

Her sleeves had been torn apart, her long hair had become disheveled, and the jade ornament that once held them in place had disappeared without a trace.

A thin trail of blood trickled down the corner of her mouth.

She slowly raised her head, her beautiful face having become incomparably gloomy.

Although the explosion did not inflict any serious injuries upon her, the humiliation it brought was far more difficult to accept.

She was a Perfect Half Immortal of the Upper Realm!

Even among the countless cultivators who had descended to participate in the Cleansing, she possessed sufficient strength to stand above the vast majority of her peers.

Yet, she had actually been forced backwards by the self-detonation of an Immortal Ascension cultivator!

A mere insect from the Lower Realm!

"Good, very good!"

Her voice was quiet, but anyone who heard it could sense the monstrous killing intent concealed beneath those words.

She had initially regarded the Lower Realm cultivators as little more than insignificant stepping stones.

But now, she had changed her mind.

She would make sure that every remaining cultivator who dared to resist the Cleansing paid the price!

Meanwhile, the surrounding Upper Realm cultivators remained silent.

Some looked at the woman with astonishment, while others turned their gazes towards the place where the Unrivaled Fist God had disappeared.

They had never expected an Immortal Ascension cultivator to possess such terrifying resolve, nor had they expected him to unleash such a powerful attack through self-destruction.

For a brief moment, even the Upper Realm cultivators who had treated the Lower Realm as a hunting ground felt a strange sensation in their hearts.

However, it disappeared almost immediately.

After all, the Unrivaled Fist God was already dead, and the Cleansing was far from over.

...

In an unknown corner of the Central Continent, there was a small mortal village.

The village was surrounded by a crude defensive formation that flickered faintly beneath the blood red sky.

It had originally been established by a Rogue Cultivator many years ago, intended to protect the inhabitants from Demon Beasts and occasional calamities.

Now, however, it was the only thing standing between the villagers and the catastrophe sweeping across the Lower Realm.

The formation’s light had grown increasingly dim.

Cracks spread across its surface, and every so often, a faint tremor would pass through the barrier, causing the villagers to cry out in fear.

No one knew how much longer it could last.

The village chief had already gathered everyone in the largest courtyard, while the adults desperately tried to comfort their children.

Some knelt on the ground, silently praying to the heavens. Others clutched the hands of their loved ones, unwilling to let go even for a moment.

They had heard the rumors, that the Immortals had descended from the heavens, a prophecy from fifty years ago having come true.

The great sects and Immortal families that had protected the world for countless generations were being destroyed, and even those legendary cultivators capable of moving mountains and overturning rivers were dying one after another.

The world they had known was ending, yet there was nothing they could do.

They were merely mortals; what could ordinary people like them possibly accomplish in the face of such a catastrophe?

At that moment, a little girl standing beside her mother suddenly raised her head.

She was perhaps five or six years old, with a small face and a pair of bright eyes.

Her clothes were old, and her hair had been tied into two simple braids.

She had been trembling in fear moments ago, but when she noticed the distant sky suddenly illuminating with a brilliant golden radiance accompanied by a streak of light, her eyes widened.

"Mom, look!"

She tugged at the hem of her mother’s clothes and pointed towards the heavens.

"A shooting star!"

Her mother instinctively looked up.

Through the distant clouds, she could vaguely see a golden streak of light disappearing into the horizon.

It was far too distant for an ordinary mortal to discern what had truly happened.

To her, it was merely a flash of light in the sky, but to the little girl, it was something wonderful.

She had once heard a traveling storyteller speak of shooting stars.

According to the stories, whenever a shooting star crossed the heavens, anyone who made a wish upon it might have their wish granted.

At the time, she had listened with wide eyes, imagining that somewhere beyond the clouds, there existed a world filled with miracles.

Now, seeing that brilliant light, she immediately clasped her little hands together.

Her mother watched her in a daze as the little girl closed her eyes, her lips moving as she whispered her wish.

"I hope everyone will be safe."

Her voice was very soft.

"I hope mom and dad will be safe, and grandpa and grandma will be safe too."

She paused for a moment before adding another sentence.

"And I hope all the people in the world will be safe."

After a brief silence, the little girl opened her eyes and looked towards the heavens once more.

"Mom, the Immortals of our world will definitely save us, right?"

The woman froze at these seemingly innocent words, her hand subconsciously covering her mouth as her eyes brimmed with tears.

She looked at her daughter’s innocent face, unable to find the words to answer.

How was she supposed to respond?

Should she tell her daughter that the Immortals were dying?

That the legendary figures who had once protected their world were powerless before the enemies descending from the heavens?

Or should she simply smile and tell her that everything would be fine?

In the end, the woman lowered her head and gently embraced the little girl.

"Yes."

Her voice trembled faintly as she spoke.

"The Immortals will save us."

The little girl smiled.

It was a bright, innocent smile, completely untouched by the despair that had begun to spread throughout the world.

To her, Immortal Cultivators were beings who belonged to another world.

They could fly through the heavens, command wind and rain, and wield powers beyond the imagination of ordinary mortals.

Ever since the Righteous-Demonic War, the concept of Immortal Cultivation had spread throughout the Mortal World.

Stories of cultivators had become commonplace, and even the most remote villages knew that beyond the mortal realm existed a vast world of sects, Immortal families, and supreme powerhouses.

Yet, for ordinary mortals, there was no distinction between an Immortal Ascension cultivator, a Half Immortal, or a genuine Immortal.

They were all Immortal Gods, untouchable beings who stood above the heavens and earth, the legendary figures who could pluck stars from the sky and grasp the moon in their palms.

They were the ones who could save the world when ordinary people had nowhere else to turn.

And so, the little girl believed in them, just as countless other mortals believed in them.

...

Throughout every corner of the Mortal World, countless beings knelt down and prayed.

In a ruined city, an elderly man with trembling legs prostrated himself before a shattered shrine, repeatedly calling upon the Immortals to protect his grandchildren.

In a remote mountain village, a group of children huddled together while their parents bowed towards the heavens.

In the ruins of a once prosperous dynasty, a dying emperor abandoned his crown and prayed alongside his subjects.

Some prayed to the ancient ancestors of their bloodlines, some prayed to the great sects that had protected their lands for generations, and some prayed to the nameless deities worshipped by their ancestors, beseeching them to descend from the heavens and save them from this calamity.

Humans were just so ridiculous.

They did not know if their prayers would be answered, but they prayed anyways.

They prayed because they were afraid, because they had nowhere else to go, and because, even when everything seemed hopeless, the human heart still yearned for a miracle.

Perhaps the shooting star crossing the blood red sky would carry their wishes to someone capable of hearing them.

Countless prayers continued to rise with each passing instant.

They crossed ruined cities and devastated mountains, passing through villages where the last flames of civilization still flickered.

They rose from the lips of the elderly and the young, the dying and the desperate, the strong and the weak.

All ultimately converging upon the sky, transforming into the purest power of Faith.