Captain Ji Haozhe shifted uncomfortably on his horse, his hands gripping the reins as he stared at the tree line ahead.

The forest loomed before them like a wall of shadow.

Behind him, eight of the city's finest guards sat in their saddles with varying degrees of patience, their spiritual pressure carefully controlled to avoid interfering with whatever was happening deeper in the woods.

"Sir," Wei Ming said quietly, his voice carrying the particular note of someone trying very hard not to sound nervous. "How long do you think the City Lord will need to apprehend one Disbeliever?"

Ji Haozhe didn't answer immediately.

In three hundred years, he'd only encountered three Disbelievers, and each experience had left him feeling like he'd brushed against something fundamentally wrong with the world. The memory of their empty spiritual pressure, the way reality seemed to flinch away from their presence, still gave him nightmares.

"Patience, Wei Ming," he said finally. "Lord Feng is a World-Writ Sovereign. Even if Du Yanze has fully transitioned, he's still just a former Crowned Heart Realm cultivator. The power difference is insurmountable."

"If I may ask, Captain," said Guard Liu Xian, a younger man who'd joined their unit only two years ago, "what exactly makes Disbelievers so dangerous? I mean, if they've lost their faith in their own chosenness, wouldn't that make them weaker?"

Several of the older guards exchanged glances. Ji Haozhe sighed, recognizing the question for what it was, genuine curiosity from someone who'd never faced the existential horror of confronting a being who could simply deny the validity of your techniques.

"Tell me, Liu Xian," Ji Haozhe said, turning in his saddle to face the younger man. "What do you know about the Great Doubt Plague a millennia ago?"

Liu Xian's brow furrowed as he searched his memory. "I remember some mentions in the academy texts. Something about a period of spiritual instability?"

"Spiritual instability," Wei Ming snorted. "That's like calling a wildfire 'thermal irregularities.' The Great Doubt Plague nearly destroyed the entire Western Province."

Ji Haozhe nodded grimly. "A thousand years ago, Disbelievers weren't the rare aberrations we see today. They were everywhere. Entire cities fell when their spiritual foundations collapsed, when enough people stopped believing in the basic principles that held their cultivation systems together."

He paused, watching the tree line for any sign of movement. The air was too still, too quiet. Even the birds had stopped singing.

"It started in Jade River City," he continued. "A merchant cultivator named Huang Yaoshi suffered a Crisis of Doubt after losing his family and fortune in a business deal gone wrong. But instead of simply falling into despair, he began actively preaching that chosenness itself was a lie. That all cultivation was just elaborate self-deception."

"And people listened to him?" Liu Xian asked, clearly struggling to understand how such obviously heretical ideas could take root.

"People who were already suffering, yes," said Guard Chen Lao, an older man with gray streaks in his hair. "Those who'd lost loved ones, failed breakthrough attempts, been humiliated by their superiors. The merchant's words offered them something that their shattered faith couldn't, a reason for their failures that didn't require them to blame themselves."

Ji Haozhe watched the younger guards process this information. This was an era where Disbelievers were rare boogeyman stories, not a genuine existential threat to civilization itself.

"The plague spread like wildfire," Wei Ming added. "City after city fell as their spiritual foundations crumbled. Cultivation techniques stopped working when too many people stopped believing in them. Formation arrays collapsed when their operators lost faith in their effectiveness. Even spirit beasts began losing their natural abilities when the ambient Xuan Yi became too corrupted with doubt."

"How was it stopped?" asked Guard Zhang Feng, a middle-aged man who usually preferred action to conversation.

"The Purification Orders," Ji Haozhe replied, his voice taking on the reverent tone reserved for discussing heroes of legend. "Specialized organizations trained specifically to identify, contain, and if necessary, eliminate Disbelievers before their corruption could spread. The Order of Absolute Faith, the Sword Saints of Unwavering Conviction, the Celestial Tribunal of Divine Certainty."

He gestured toward the forest. "The methods they developed, the techniques for spiritual reconditioning, the containment protocols—all of it came from that dark period. By the time the plague was contained, entire regions had been reduced to spiritual wastelands where cultivation was impossible for generations."

"But that was a thousand years ago," Liu Xian protested. "Surely we've learned enough to prevent something like that from happening again."

"Have we?" Ji Haozhe's voice was quiet, thoughtful. "When was the last time any of you actually encountered a Disbeliever? When was the last time you had to use the containment techniques we drill with every month?"

The silence that followed was telling.

Most of the guards had never faced a real Disbeliever in combat. The techniques they practiced were theoretical, learned from manuals and demonstrated against willing volunteers who were still full of faith in their own abilities.

"The problem," Chen Lao said slowly, "is that in becoming rare, Disbelievers have also become less understood. A thousand years ago, we knew exactly how they operated, what to expect from them. Now..."

A distant rumble echoed through the air, causing all the horses to shift nervously. Ji Haozhe felt his own spiritual pressure fluctuate in response to whatever was happening deeper in the forest. The sensation was familiar; the aftershock of powerful techniques clashing against each other.

"At least Lord Feng seems to have engaged the target," Wei Ming observed. "That's got to be his World-Writ Sovereign spiritual pressure we're feeling."

Ji Haozhe nodded, but something felt wrong. The energy patterns were too chaotic, too unstable. World-Writ Sovereigns were known for their precise control, their ability to impose their will on reality with surgical precision. What he was sensing felt more like...

"Sir," Zhang Feng called out sharply. "Movement in the tree line."

Every guard immediately straightened in their saddles, hands moving to weapons as they watched figures emerge from the forest. Ji Haozhe squinted against the late afternoon light, trying to make out the details of the approaching group.

City Lord Feng Zhaoyang walked at the front, his ceremonial robes dirt-stained and his usually perfect hair disheveled. Behind him came the elderly servant Li Qiang, followed by Du Yanze himself. But what caused Ji Haozhe's blood to run cold wasn't the presence of the supposed Disbeliever.

It was what followed them.

An enormous oak tree was walking through the forest, its massive roots pulling free from the earth with each ponderous step. Smaller plants and even what appeared to be a boulder were moving alongside the group, creating a procession that looked like something out of a fever dream.

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"What in the nine heavens..." Wei Ming breathed.

"Sir," Liu Xian said excitedly, "it looks like Lord Feng successfully apprehended the Disbeliever! And he's managed to animate the forest itself as additional security. Truly, the power of a World-Writ Sovereign is—"

Ji Haozhe's hand shot out, gripping the younger guard's wrist with enough force to cut off circulation. "Stop talking," he hissed. "Something is very, very wrong here."

As the group drew closer, Ji Haozhe's worst fears were confirmed.

The spiritual pressure emanating from City Lord Feng was completely different from what it had been an hour ago. Gone was the golden certainty of a World-Writ Sovereign, replaced by something dark and corrosive that made Ji Haozhe's teeth ache just being in its presence.

Disbeliever aura.

Their own City Lord had fallen to a Crisis of Doubt.

"Captain?" Wei Ming's voice was tight with barely controlled panic. "That's... that can't be..."

"Everyone stay calm," Ji Haozhe said quietly, though his own heart was hammering against his ribs. "Form up. Combat formation X. Do not engage until I give the signal."

The guards' horses wheeled into position as they prepared for what might be the most important battle of their lives. Behind them, Ji Haozhe could hear Liu Xian muttering prayers under his breath.

"Lord Feng," Ji Haozhe called out as the group approached within speaking distance. "We were instructed to wait for your return with the prisoner."

The man who had been their City Lord for years looked up with eyes that held none of their familiar authority. Instead, there was a strange peace in his expression, as if he'd just woken from a long and troubled sleep.

"Captain Ji Haozhe," Feng Zhaoyang said. "There is no prisoner. There never was."

"My Lord," Wei Ming said carefully, "we can sense the spiritual corruption emanating from you. Please allow us to escort you back to the city for purification. The Tribunal can—"

"The Tribunal operates on the same fundamental delusions that I've spent my entire life embracing," Feng Zhaoyang interrupted. "Tell me, Captain, in your years of service, how many times have you seen those purification techniques actually work? How many Disbelievers have you watched willingly return to a life of self-deception?"

Ji Haozhe felt sweat beading on his forehead. This was exactly the kind of insidious corruption the training manuals warned about: the way Disbelievers could make their twisted philosophy sound reasonable, even appealing.

"Du Yanze," he called out, desperately trying to regain control of the situation. "You are under arrest for spiritual corruption and inciting a Crisis of Doubt in a city official. Surrender now and we may be able to arrange for reconditioning rather than execution."

Du Yanze looked at him with what appeared to be genuine sympathy. "Captain, would it help if I told you that Lord Feng came to the forest intending to arrest me, and left understanding that his entire worldview was built on contradictions he could no longer ignore?"

"The Divine Master speaks only truth," the massive tree added. "This humble servant witnessed the moment when the false ruler's delusions crumbled before perfect clarity."

"Divine Master?" Chen Lao repeated, confusion evident in his voice.

Du Yanze raised his hand, and to Ji Haozhe's absolute horror, spiritual energy began gathering around his palm. But this wasn't the chaotic, reality-denying force of a typical Disbeliever. The energy moved with purpose, with control, forming complex patterns that spoke of advanced cultivation.

"I asked Lord Feng the same question that I'll ask you," Du Yanze said, his voice carrying a strange authority. "If belief in personal chosenness is truly the foundation of strength, then why do most people who believe themselves chosen fail to accomplish anything significant? Why do the techniques that rely on conviction alone fail when confronted with practical knowledge and skill?"

"Because their belief isn't pure enough!" Liu Xian burst out, desperation making his voice crack. "Because they haven't fully embraced their destined—"

"So, failure is always the result of insufficient faith?" Du Yanze asked gently. "Never the result of attempting something that simply cannot be done?"

Ji Haozhe felt his own certainty beginning to waver and immediately began the breathing exercises designed to reinforce spiritual stability. Around him, his guards were doing the same, their faces tight with concentration as they fought against the insidious pull of doubt.

"Silence!" Wei Ming shouted, channeling his Xuan Yi into a technique he'd practiced ten thousand times. "Blazing Palm Strike!"

Golden fire erupted from his outstretched palm, racing toward Du Yanze with the speed of pure faith made manifest. It was a perfect execution of a Crowned Heart Realm technique, backed by years of unwavering belief in its effectiveness.

Du Yanze didn't move.

The fire struck something invisible a foot from his body and simply... stopped existing. Not blocked, not deflected, not absorbed. The technique ceased to be real, as if the universe itself had decided it had never been anything more than wishful thinking.

Wei Ming staggered in his saddle, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as the spiritual backlash tore through his meridians.

"Attack!" Ji Haozhe roared, knowing that hesitation now meant death for all of them.

Seven guards unleashed their most powerful techniques simultaneously. Lightning carved through the air, stone constructs erupted from the earth, wind blades sharp enough to cut steel screamed toward their targets. It was a coordinated assault that could have leveled a building, backed by the combined faith of eight devoted city guards.

Feng Zhaoyang raised his hand.

The world went silent.

Every technique, every manifestation of spiritual energy, every expression of Xuan Yi-backed will simply... stopped. The lightning froze in mid-air, the stone constructs crumbled back into ordinary dirt, the wind blades dissolved into gentle breezes.

Then the spiritual pressure hit them.

It wasn't the golden authority of a World-Writ Sovereign asserting his dominance. This was something far more terrifying; the weight of absolute certainty pressing down on their minds like a physical force. Not certainty in personal greatness or divine chosenness, but certainty in the fundamental nature of reality itself.

One by one, the guards were driven to their knees as their horses collapsed beneath them. Ji Haozhe felt his own spiritual foundation cracking under the pressure, decades of carefully maintained beliefs splintering like glass.

"You've spent your lives," Feng Zhaoyang said quietly, his voice somehow audible despite the crushing weight of his aura, "serving a system built on a single, fundamental lie. The lie that personal conviction can override natural law. That believing in your own importance strongly enough makes you actually important."

Ji Haozhe tried to speak, to argue, to maintain the faith that had sustained him throughout his years of service. But the words wouldn't come. Under the relentless pressure of the former City Lord's certainty, all his carefully constructed beliefs were crumbling.

"Look around you," Feng Zhaoyang continued, gesturing to the awakened plants and the content stone that had somehow acquired consciousness. "These beings have found purpose without needing to believe they're the center of the universe. They contribute, they grow, they help others—not because they think they're specially chosen, but because cooperation and mutual support are how healthy communities actually function."

The massive oak swayed gently, its voice filled with something that might have been compassion. "This one spent eight hundred years believing it was destined to rule an empire of stone and wood. Such arrogance. Such waste. Only when the Great Liberator showed me the truth could I find actual peace."

"Great Liberator?" Chen Lao gasped, the words torn from his throat by the crushing weight of revelation.

Du Yanze stepped forward, and Ji Haozhe saw not the calculated compassion of someone seeking to build followers, but the simple desire to help others understand something that had brought him peace.

"I'm not trying to destroy your faith," Du Yanze said gently. "I'm trying to show you the difference between faith based on evidence and experience, and faith based on wishful thinking. You can believe in your abilities because you've trained them. You can have confidence in your techniques because you understand how they work. You can trust in your worth as people because of the good you do for others."

He paused, his gaze taking in each of the kneeling guards. "But believing the universe revolves around your personal destiny, that your wants and needs matter more than everyone else's, that's not faith. That's delusion. And delusions make you weaker, not stronger."

The spiritual pressure began to ease, but instead of relief, Ji Haozhe felt something far more disturbing. The manic certainty that had driven him was gone, replaced by... clarity. For the first time in his life, his thoughts felt clear and uncluttered.

"We've been..." Wei Ming struggled to form words, his voice hoarse from spiritual strain. "Everything we believed... it was all..."

"Not all of it," Feng Zhaoyang said, kneeling down to bring himself to eye level with his former subordinates. "You believed in protecting the innocent. You believed in serving your community. You believed in standing up to danger even when you were afraid. Those beliefs were real, and they were worth something."

Ji Haozhe looked up into the eyes of the man he'd served faithfully, and saw none of the authority or arrogance he'd grown accustomed to. Instead, he saw someone who looked genuinely sorry for what they'd all been through.

"The corruption you feel from us," Du Yanze added, "isn't really corruption at all. It's just the absence of delusion. Your spiritual senses have been trained to recognize self-aggrandizing energy as 'pure' and rational thinking as 'corrupted.' But now that you can think clearly, how does it actually feel?"

Ji Haozhe paused, taking inventory of his internal state. The Disbeliever aura that had felt so nauseating and wrong an hour ago now seemed... peaceful. Like coming inside from a storm, or setting down a burden he hadn't realized he was carrying.

Around him, his guards were coming to the same realization. The madness was gone. The desperate need to prove their worth, to maintain their importance, to cling to beliefs that had never quite made sense—all of it had simply evaporated.

For the first time in their lives, they could think clearly.

And it felt wonderful.

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