Feng Zhaoyang had seen many strange things in his three centuries of life, but watching an ancient oak tree slowly turn its massive trunk to face him with what could only be described as indignation was definitely a new experience.

"How dare you threaten our benefactor!" the tree rumbled, its voice carrying the weight of centuries and the kind of righteous fury that made the ground itself tremble. "This human has shown us kindness, and you arrive here speaking of imprisonment and spiritual reconditioning?"

The City Lord's eyes widened as he took in the full scope of what was happening.

This wasn't just one corrupted tree; the entire forest was responding to his presence with open hostility. Branches creaked and swayed despite the absence of wind, and he could feel dozens of awakened consciousnesses focusing their attention on him with unmistakable disapproval.

"Papa!" a small, frightened voice piped up from behind the oak's massive trunk. "Papa, why is the bad man making the air hurt? Is he going to take the nice mister away?"

A tiny sapling, no more than three feet tall, peeked out from behind the ancient oak with wide, innocent eyes. Her leaves trembled with fear as she stared at Feng Zhaoyang, and despite everything, the City Lord felt a twinge of guilt.

The little tree couldn't be more than a few hours old, based on her spiritual signature, yet she was already displaying the kind of genuine concern and affection that took humans years to develop.

It made the City Lord sick seeing Du Yanze lead such an innocent creature astray.

"Don't worry, Little Bloom," the oak said gently, one of his lower branches reaching down to pat the sapling's delicate form. "Papa won't let the mean man hurt our friend."

"That's right!" called out another voice, this one coming from a boulder that had apparently decided to roll closer to the confrontation. "The Stone Emperor won't stand for injustice! Anyone who threatens him threatens us all!"

More voices began joining the chorus, and Feng Zhaoyang felt his blood run cold as he realized the true scope of what he was dealing with.

A patch of singing grass had formed what looked suspiciously like a choir formation, their harmonized voices declaring Du Yanze to be the "Melody of Truth."

Several smaller trees were calling him the "Awakener of Consciousness," while a family of rabbits that had apparently gained sentience were chanting "Great Liberator" over and over again.

This was far, far worse than the reports had indicated.

The City Lord's mind raced back to his youth, when his master had first explained the true danger of Disbelievers. He'd been barely into the Proclamation Realm then, accompanying Master Bohan on what should have been a routine arrest of a corrupted cultivator.

"Remember, Zhaoyang," Master Bohan had said as they approached the ramshackle hut where the Disbeliever had taken refuge. "These abominations don't just doubt their own destiny. They spread that doubt like a spiritual plague. The longer they remain free, the more damage they do to the very fabric of our realm."

The Disbeliever they'd arrested that day had been a broken thing, a former Crowned Heart Realm expert whose wife had left him for a greater man causing him to lose faith in his own chosenness.

And then in his corrupted state, he'd managed to gather what the texts called "Echoes of Emptiness", those who had begun to resonate with his nihilistic worldview.

Feng Zhaoyang remembered how the man's few followers had fought with desperate fury, not because they believed in the Disbeliever's greatness, but because they'd been convinced that everything they'd once thought meaningful was a lie. They'd attacked the arrest party with the fervor of people who had nothing left to lose, because they truly believed there was nothing worth preserving.

The more Echoes of Emptiness a Disbeliever gathered, the stronger their reality-denying abilities became. It was a feedback loop of destruction that could theoretically spiral out of control until entire regions fell into spiritual nihilism.

"Li Qiang," Feng Zhaoyang called out. "Step away from the corrupted individual. You're clearly under some form of spiritual influence."

The elderly servant moved protectively closer to Du Yanze instead of obeying. "With all due respect, City Lord, I think you're the one who's confused. Young Master Du isn't corrupted; he's finally become what he was always meant to be."

That settled it.

Whatever was happening here, it had to be stopped before it could spread any further.

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"This has gone on for long enough," Feng Zhaoyang said, letting his World-Writ Sovereign spiritual pressure explode outward like a crushing wave.

Little Bloom's scream cut through the air as she was pressed flat against the ground by the overwhelming force. The flowering bushes withered under the pressure, their petals falling like tears. Even the massive oak groaned as its branches bent toward the earth, though it somehow managed to remain upright.

"You are all under arrest for harboring a dangerous spiritual deviant," Feng Zhaoyang declared, his voice carrying the authority of absolute law. "Surrender now and your corruption may yet be cleansed."

Du Yanze remained standing in the face of the crushing aura, though Feng Zhaoyang noted with satisfaction that sweat was beading on the young man's forehead. Good. Even corrupted cultivators had their limits.

"I gave you a chance to come peacefully," Feng Zhaoyang continued, reaching into his robes for the scroll he'd prepared. "Since you refuse, I'll have to use force."

The scroll unfurled with a sound like thunder, revealing lines of golden calligraphy.

This was one of his most powerful techniques, "Chains of Absolute Binding", written in the reality-altering script that only World-Writ Sovereigns and above could master.

Feng Zhaoyang began to channel his Xuan Yi into the characters, watching as they lifted off the scroll and began to expand into three-dimensional constructs.

The golden chains materialized in the air around Du Yanze, fully ready to bind him completely.

"Let absolute authority crush all defiance," Feng Zhaoyang chanted, pouring more power into the technique. "Let the will of heaven—"

"Stop," Du Yanze said calmly.

It seems while Feng Zhaoyang had been busy preparing his own technique, Du Yanze had already produced his own scroll and brush, and wrote his own character – "Stop".

The blue calligraphy shot forward like a guided arrow, colliding directly with Feng Zhaoyang's golden chains. The impact sent shockwaves through the air as the two techniques clashed, blue light wrestling against gold in a spectacular display of conflicting spiritual energies.

Feng Zhaoyang's chains didn't just halt; they began to unravel, their golden radiance dimming as the blue light consumed them from within. The written character seemed to devour his technique, growing brighter with each link it dissolved. In seconds, his carefully crafted "Chains of Absolute Binding" dissolved into harmless motes of spiritual energy.

The City Lord stared at Du Yanze in complete bewilderment. "That's... that's impossible. How can a Disbeliever use calligraphy? That's a World-Writ Sovereign technique!"

Du Yanze tucked the brush away casually, though Feng Zhaoyang could see the effort the counter-technique had cost him. "I told you I wasn't what you think I am."

"But..." Feng Zhaoyang's mind reeled as he tried to process what he'd just witnessed. "Disbelievers can't use belief-based techniques! It's fundamentally incompatible with their nature!"

Calligraphy wasn't just writing; it was the direct inscription of one's will onto reality itself.

It required absolute faith in one's authority to command the world through written word.

A true Disbeliever would be incapable of such techniques, because doubt corroded the very foundation the art required.

Which meant either Du Yanze wasn't actually a Disbeliever, or he was something far more dangerous than anything Feng Zhaoyang had encountered before.

"What…what are you?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Du Yanze considered the question for a moment, absently reaching down to pat Little Bloom's trembling leaves as she cowered near his feet. "I'm someone who believes in what I've seen and experienced, rather than what I've been told I should believe."

The distinction sent chills down Feng Zhaoyang's spine. This wasn't a Disbeliever in the traditional sense - someone who'd lost all faith in their own destiny. This was something far more complex and potentially catastrophic.

A hybrid. Someone who could use the techniques of a believer while maintaining the reality-denying abilities of a Disbeliever. Someone who could inspire loyalty while undermining the fundamental assumptions that held their entire cultivation system together.

Feng Zhaoyang's hands trembled as he realized the full scope of what he was facing. Du Yanze wasn't just a threat to public order; he was a threat to the very nature of their realm.

Which meant there was only one way to deal with him.

"Du Yanze," Feng Zhaoyang said, his voice taking on the formal cadence required for what he was about to propose. "I challenge you to a Clash of Convictions."

The forest fell silent.

Even the awakened spirits seemed to understand the gravity of what had just been proposed.

A Clash of Convictions was the most dangerous type of spiritual combat known to the Realm of the Chosen. It wasn't a battle of techniques or power; it was a direct confrontation between opposing worldviews, where two cultivators would expose their fundamental beliefs to each other and attempt to prove which perspective reflected true reality.

The process was terrifying because it was absolute.

When believers and disbelievers engaged in such a clash, they would literally attempt to convert each other through pure spiritual pressure and logical argument.

The loser wouldn't just be defeated; they would have their entire worldview shattered and replaced by their opponent's perspective.

A believer who lost would become a disbeliever, their faith in destiny permanently destroyed.

A disbeliever who lost would regain their clarity, once again becoming a believer in their destiny and the destiny of others.

It was the only known method for truly converting someone from one path to the other, but it came with enormous risks for both parties.

Even the winner often emerged psychologically scarred from the experience of having their deepest beliefs challenged so directly.

Many cultivators who survived such clashes never fully recovered their original confidence, haunted by the memory of how close they had come to losing everything they believed in.

For Feng Zhaoyang, it represented both his greatest fear and his only hope.

If he won, Du Yanze would become a proper believer again, his dangerous delusion replaced by belief of destiny. The threat to the cultivation system would be eliminated, and order would be restored.

If he lost... Feng Zhaoyang would become the very thing he sought to destroy, stripped of his certainties and forced to see the world through the unclear terrible lens of delusion.

Du Yanze studied the City Lord for a long moment, his expression thoughtful rather than afraid.

Around them, the forest spirits watched with something approaching reverence, as if they understood they were witnessing a moment that would reshape the spiritual landscape of the entire region.

"Very well, City Lord," Du Yanze said finally, "I accept your challenge."

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