On a desolate planet billions of light-years from the Spiral Starfield, in the mortal realm. This planet, roughly thirty thousand kilometers in diameter, experienced four distinct seasons, with oceans covering about seventy-three percent of its surface. Beneath the surface, spiritual meridians were abundant and powerful; the surface was steeped in incredibly rich spiritual energy, concealing vast deposits of spirit stones and rare spiritual herbs.

Primitive human populations inhabited this world, their civilization hovering between the late Neolithic and the early Bronze Age. These early humans possessed developed intellects, and thanks to the planet’s dense spiritual energy, they were physically robust, naturally gifted, and possessed constitutions ten times stronger than ordinary humans.

Moreover, because the world's spiritual energy was so abundant and prone to violent fluctuations, this planet endured natural disasters—lightning strikes, storms, tsunamis, and earthquakes—dozens of times more frequently than others. Consequently, the primitive humans developed an intensely vibrant culture centered on the worship of spirits. Priests and shamans, who claimed to commune with the divine, held absolute dominion over every aspect of the natives' lives.

On this particular day, on the largest continent of the planet, the nineteen most powerful tribes were conducting a grand ceremony to appease the Heavens. They were preparing for the imminent Tidal Gale Hurricane, sacrificing to the Celestial Gods to beseech them to mitigate the storm’s ferocity and reduce the number of tribesmen lost to the gales and floods. The ritual was held on a slope facing the sea, surrounded on all four sides by vibrant, blooming forests.

The chiefs and elders of the nineteen tribes each led nearly ten thousand warriors and senior members to the sacrificial hall. Hundreds of Great Shamans and High Priests from the nineteen tribes officiated the rites. They ignited roaring sacrificial fires, burning wood rich with aromatic oils and resins. A dense, fragrant smoke soared skyward, rapidly spreading in all directions under the push of the sea breeze.

The priests, adorned with feather crowns, clad in robes woven from cotton and linen, and decorated with countless jade pieces, danced and circled the sacrificial fire. Occasionally, they would open their mouths to spew forth jets of flame, or raise their hands to summon thin strands of lightning. These individuals had gleaned rudimentary minor sorceries from observing the fundamental operations of the Great Dao of Nature—secret arts they relied upon to control the various tribes.

Several of the most powerful priests even executed secret techniques, causing a gentle, radiant aura to emanate from their bodies. This light shielded an ethereal figure, identical to themselves but shimmering faintly as if condensed smoke, as it ascended toward the sky.

These priests had achieved a preliminary grasp of the soul's mysteries. They could use secret arts to transform a portion of their own souls into this hazy, detached form and spirit it outside their bodies. Protected by the secret method, these detached spirits rose into the heavens. To the tribespeople below, it appeared as if their priests were ascending to commune with the Celestial Gods, negotiating the affairs of the human world. "Oh~~ ~Oh~~~ Nnng~~~"

The chiefs, elders, and common folk of every tribe immediately fell to their knees, gazing frantically at the few priests who were trembling uncontrollably.

In their eyes, these priests were sending their very souls into the heavens to confer with the Celestial Gods. In reality, however, the secret method these men used for exiting their bodies was incomplete. It was an unauthorized projection of fractured souls, and their minds were currently experiencing a searing, intense pain, as if boiling over.

Furthermore, by forcibly projecting a part of their souls this way, they lacked the perfectly refined secret knowledge necessary to shield their spirits. The souls, buffeted by the severe winds at high altitude, felt a torment akin to a thousand cuts, leaving them no choice but to shake violently.

Suddenly, one priest staggered, coughed up a mouthful of blood toward the sky, and collapsed to the ground, his breath failing within moments.

The priests beside him exchanged glances, then simultaneously began to dance around wildly, acting deranged. They loudly proclaimed that the deceased priest had earned the favor of the Celestial Gods, who, unwilling to let him return to the mortal world, had kept him by their side as a servant. This was an immense honor, sufficient to bring glory to his ancestors. Hearing the priests' nonsense, the tribespeople erupted into a fresh wave of frenzied worship.

Only the priests themselves knew the truth: their colleague and companion’s secret method had been torn apart by the gale winds, and his soul had been pulverized by the gale. He had died from the backlash of the secret art, not been invited to dine with the Celestial Gods.

Still, the art of deceiving the masses was just that—the art of deception. Sacrificing one companion to gain greater adoration and trust from the rest of the tribe was a worthwhile transaction!

The priests stoked the sacrificial fire until it burned fiercer. They spun around the flames in a frenzied dance, and in the void above, several hazy figures could be vaguely discerned flickering within the clouds. These figures were also gesticulating wildly, their mouths opening and closing as if engaged in lively conversation.

A few exceptionally bold chiefs and elders dared to secretly lift their heads, catching a glimpse of the contorting figures high above. Their hearts settled immediately—the priests were indeed conversing with the Celestial Gods. It seemed the ravages of the Tidal Gale Hurricane this year might be significantly lessened. Just as these priests were engaged in their charade, a blinding flash of intense light suddenly pierced the void.

A spacecraft of peculiar design, resembling a giant bird and gleaming with golden light, slowly breached the planet's atmosphere, spewing scorching plasma flames as it descended gracefully from the high altitude. The piercing shriek forced everyone on the ground to instinctively cover their ears. The violent winds whipped up by the plasma flames made it impossible for them to stand firm, causing them to collapse in terror onto the earth.

The unluckiest were the priests engaged in their act. Their souls were hovering high above, meddling. Suddenly, several jets of plasma flame shot downward. They didn't even have time to scream before their souls were incinerated into dust by the pale blue fire.

Several priests vomited blood and fell; meanwhile, the colossal battleship, tens of thousands of meters long, hung in the air like a massive mountain, still spitting flames.

After a moment, a hatch opened on the side of the warship. Stepping out were Xin Long'er, clad in golden armor, wielding a Fangtian Huaji (halberd), radiating brilliant golden light as if a god himself, accompanied by the six Blood Fang Brothers. Following them closely, a host of Angelic folk, fluttering pure white wings, floated down on clouds.

Brilliant divine light shot from Xin Long’er's eyes. The immense mental pressure pinned the chiefs, elders, and tribesmen to the ground, unable to move. He looked down upon these primitive humans, carefully projecting a wave of divine sense that would not harm them, injecting his voice directly into their minds.

"You sinners, ignorant of reverence for Heaven and respect for the Earth, are utterly wicked. You are born sinners and must submit to the disciples of the Sage, worship devoutly, only then can your sins be redeemed, and you may ascend to Heaven after death to enjoy eternal bliss."

Although they did not understand his language, the mighty spiritual sense of cultivators allowed this voice, injected directly into their minds, to convey meaning without the need for vocal cords.

The solemn and commanding voice echoed directly in the minds of these primitive humans. They stared at each other in utter horror, completely stunned. How could they be sinners? How were they disrespectful to Heaven and Earth? Were they not currently holding a grand sacrifice, offering tributes to all the gods above? If reverence for Heaven and Earth was the measure, none could be more reverent than they. One chief, the boldest among them, cautiously lifted his head and shouted toward the sky: "Are you the spirits? We are in the midst of a great sacrificial rite! We have always been utterly submissive to the Celestial Gods. Why are we guilty?"

Xin Long’er rolled his eyes. How would he know if these primitives were guilty? Regardless, those words were fed to him by the white-winged angels behind him. He snorted and beckoned to the missionary angel standing behind him.

These angels had been forcefully subdued by Gu Xichen using immense magical power and divine ability after he attained sainthood. All the angels slumbering within the stars had been awakened by Gu Xichen’s divine power and restored to their peak strength. Naturally, these angels swore allegiance to Gu Xichen, becoming his vanguard for propagating righteousness in the mortal realm.

Accompanying Xin Long'er on this journey was an elite force of tens of thousands of angels, led by the Seraphim Gabriel.

Gabriel, holding a thick scripture forged from gold and floating calmly behind Xin Long’er, saw the signal and immediately soared forward, looking down upon all the primitives below.

He let out a cold laugh, and his massive spiritual fluctuations enveloped the entire continent. Amidst these fluctuations, he roared: "You worship the Heretic God, accepting followers of Wu God as priests, performing wicked ceremonies to feed the Evil God’s strength, causing Wu God’s power to constantly increase. This is your original sin! This is your guilt!"

Gabriel tilted his head back, proclaiming passionately to the heavens: "O sinners, your sins are truly unforgivable! Because you abandoned the righteous path, forsook the True God, and believed in evil deities, you have become enemies of the Celestial Gods! Therefore, you must be punished!"

The primitive humans screamed in panic, while the priests stared blankly at Xin Long’er and his entourage.

After a long silence, one particularly daring priest stepped forward, pointing at Xin Long’er and shouting furiously: "Nonsense! We venerate the teachings of the true Celestial Gods! You are the evil gods who sprang from nowhere, trying to invade..."

Gabriel did not allow the boldest priest to finish. With a casual point, a sword-qi of holy light shot out, instantly blasting a transparent hole the size of a washbasin through the priest’s chest. The intense qi almost melted half of the priest's body; the wound was charred black, all blood vessels sealed by the heat, not a single drop spilled.

Gabriel smiled softly at Xin Long’er. "Venerable Sir, when spreading the doctrine, there is no need to waste words on these base and backward creatures. Establish a few examples, strike them down and eliminate them with the swiftest means. The majority will then be converted into our devout followers!"

Xin Long’er nodded thoughtfully. "Is that so? That sounds easy enough."

Gabriel smiled faintly. "Indeed, it is simple, because these base creatures are entirely malleable to our control. With just a minor exertion of divine power, they will become our believers without resistance." He pointed again, unleashing dozens more beams of holy light, instantly killing several more priests below.

The priests sank to their knees in terror. Faced with the unbelievable divine powers of Gabriel, a Seraphim at the peak of the Golden Immortal realm, these priests who had only grasped minor spells dared not resist him, nor did they possess the strength to do so.

All the priests knelt. These priests were inherently sharper, more cunning, and more treacherous than their tribesmen. Without even needing prompting from Gabriel, they actively confessed their error in worshipping an evil god, shifting all the blame onto the unlucky priests whom Gabriel had just slain.

Seeing their own priests confess their transgressions, the chiefs and elders hesitated momentarily before concluding that the deities they had worshipped and trusted for so long were indeed evil gods. If they were truly Celestial Gods, why was the severity of the annual tidal gales and hurricanes always exactly the same, never lessening? Still, some remained doubtful—were these strange newcomers truly gods? Xin Long’er noticed their hesitation and shook his head with a cold smile.

The six Blood Fang Brothers shouted fiercely and shot out swiftly, transforming into six streaks of light. Everyone present quickly turned their heads, their gaze following the six rays of light. They saw the streaks rush toward a famous high mountain on the far edge of the continent. Then came an earth-shattering roar, and the ground began to convulse violently.

The mountain, over twenty thousand meters tall, suddenly snapped at its base. Its massive bulk slowly lifted, dragged by the six beams of light, soaring toward them. Though the mountain was still a thousand li from the coast, the Blood Fang Brothers brought it within the space of a single cup of tea.

The people on the ground were confused about the brothers' intent when the six dropped the mountain from the sky, smashing it heavily where the sea met the land. With the brute force and divine ability of the six brothers, the mountain sank thousands of meters deep into the earth.

The ground shuddered violently, and those on the slope lost their footing, tumbling over one another like rolling gourds.

Gabriel casually pointed, and a beam of intensely hot white light shot out, rapidly illuminating the colossal peak. The stone melted, dispersing as high-temperature steam. In the blink of an eye, a massive statue materialized on the seashore.

The Nine Dragon Throne stood majestically erect. Gu Xichen, clad in Daoist robes, his face solemn and imposing, was seated upon the throne, receiving the worship of billions of immortal and divine beings.

With a casual wave, Xin Long’er summoned vast swathes of dark clouds laced with dense electrical energy, gathering them from all directions. The clouds swirled rapidly around the massive statue, sending countless lightning bolts crashing down upon it. In an instant, a formidable 'Heavenly Gang Thunder Suppression Restriction' was established around the statue, covering an area spanning hundreds of li.

Within this restriction, any believer who sincerely called out Gu Xichen’s holy name and worshipped devoutly would remain unharmed.

However, any disrespectful being who accidentally entered the restricted zone would immediately be struck by heavenly lightning, the power of which equaled a full-force attack from an early-stage Celestial Immortal. Mortals were naturally powerless to resist; a single strike would result in immediate disintegration.

When the dark clouds dispersed and the lightning faded, a faint auspicious glow emanated around Gu Xichen’s immense statue. A great expanse of purple qi flowed out from the statue, rising upward to form a thick canopy above it.

Centering on the statue, the planet's underground spiritual meridians converged, instantly forming a stable and complete network beneath the surface. The statue effectively became the spiritual nexus of the planet, the master switch controlling all natural phenomena.

Control this statue, and one could summon wind or rain, cause tsunamis or earthquakes at will. Whoever mastered this statue possessed the truly omnipotent power to command nature on this planet. Wherever his will extended, a continent could yield four, five, or even six harvests in a year. Conversely, he could cause a small patch of land to yield nothing but withered weeds, or prolong the lives of people in one area while causing habitual miscarriages or early deaths in another.

Controlling this statue meant being undeniably the incarnation of a god on this world.

Xin Long’er walked to the front of the statue, standing with his back to it and facing the native humans. He roared: "The first one hundred to devoutly join the Sage’s disciples will receive immense blessings!"

The native humans fell silent; no one uttered a sound. Even though the priests had admitted worshipping an evil god, even though the priests had declared their allegiance to Gu Xichen, this was, after all, a faith held for thousands upon thousands of years! Even the most cunning priests could not manage such an immediate change of allegiance face-to-face, let alone these more simple, honest, and stubborn natives.

Gabriel showed a look of compassion. He floated down from the sky, looking upon the natives with profound pity. "Lost lambs, poor children! You are guilty, and only blood can wash away your sins!"

He extended his hand, launching thousands of white light beams. Nearly a thousand native humans screamed miserably as they fell to the ground.

Gabriel had inherited the consistent duplicity and ruthlessness characteristic of the Angelic race. These natives were cut clean in half, so they did not die instantly but thrashed and crawled on the ground, emitting piercing screams. Faced with Gabriel's terrifying methods, the natives recoiled, subdued.

Furthermore, the Celestial Gods they had worshipped for so long had never granted them a single tangible benefit. Yet, these newly arrived, strange figures were so powerful—truly more powerful than their gods. They could move mountains, summon wind, rain, thunder, and lightning, and casually shoot beams of light to kill. Their might seemed superior to that of the Celestial Gods?

Finally, a greedy, white-haired old native man strode forward and knelt with a thud at Xin Long’er’s feet. He shouted loudly: "Venerable God, your devout servant is willing to submit beneath your seat!"

A native chief leaped up suddenly, pointing at the old native and yelling fiercely: "Hantur, you damned old fool! The crime of colluding with enemy tribes and betraying your people has not even been fully investigated, and it was already generous to allow you to attend the sacrifice to the Celestial Gods! Yet you dare..."

A beam of white light pierced through the chief's head, exiting his forehead through a transparent, fist-sized hole.

Gabriel smiled gently at the assembled natives. "Whether you are guilty or not is not for you to judge. The sole criterion for guilt must be established by us! I, Gabriel, the most devout missionary angel serving under the great Sage, Lord Gu Xichen, decree that Hantur is the most pious believer of the divine spirit, and he shall become the king over all of you!"

Xin Long’er smiled strangely. He casually placed his hand on Hantur's forehead and spoke in a deep, powerful voice: "You are the first believer of the God, and you shall become the King of this star. When you die, you will ascend to the Heavenly Realm and become a servant of the divine. Your descendants will be the sole rulers of this land for generations to come—as long as they remain devout!"

A dazzling purple light suddenly flashed from Gu Xichen’s statue and flowed into Xin Long’er’s body, passing through his hand into Hantur.

Hantur, who looked every bit his hundred years, let out a massive roar toward the sky. His hair rapidly turned black, and his withered, aging body swiftly transformed, becoming young and vigorous. In the blink of an eye, he appeared as a youth of seventeen or eighteen, his physique incredibly robust and muscular, covered in bulging knots of solid strength.

Using the Great Method of Essence Infusion, Xin Long’er had not only restored Hantur’s youth but also elevated his physical body to a toughness equivalent to that of a Golden Core stage body cultivator. At Xin Long’er’s current cultivation level, this was merely the effort of a raised hand. But for Hantur and the other natives, this was an undeniable divine miracle!

When Hantur, beside himself with excitement, lifted a massive stone weighing over ten thousand jin and shattered it with a single punch, the natives went completely mad.

A god who could restore youth, a god who could grant the divine power only spoken of in legends—no matter the origin of such a god, they were worthy of worship!

Besides, hadn't these gods just said that they were the true deities, and the gods worshipped by the priests were evil? What error could there be in abandoning the evil gods and submitting to the true ones?

Three months later, hundreds of statues of Gu Xichen had been erected across the planet, and billions of natives worshipped and sacrificed beneath them with piety. Gu Xichen’s statues indeed ensured that the natives enjoyed favorable weather and rain, and the terrifying natural disasters of the past vanished completely, as if they were merely a nightmare from the previous night. Hurricanes, tsunamis, earthquakes, and volcanoes were gone without a trace.

The natives’ faith was unwavering and stubborn; as soon as they began to worship Gu Wuchen, a colossal wave of devotional power immediately converged through the statue, piercing the void and surging toward the Thirty-Three Heavens Palace suspended far above.

The faith of one or two natives was insignificant, but when the devotional power of trillions coalesced, it transformed into a veritable torrent of faith, pouring endlessly into Gu Xiechen’s body, where it was transmuted by the devoted Wheel of Faith within him.

An ineffable convergence, invisible to the eye and undetectable by divine sense or magical art, radiated outward from Gu Xiechen. The core disciples of the Nine Nether Path suddenly felt a profound lightness in their bodies; their minds seemed to have cleared considerably, and their state of heart grew lucid and solid, like a luminous jade orb emitting a brilliant radiance that enveloped and protected them entirely.

The transformation occurred subtly, almost imperceptibly, with few of the Nine Nether Path’s core disciples noticing the change. Occasionally, one or two with profound cultivation detected a difference in themselves, but they merely attributed it to the massive advancement in their own power.

Across the myriad planets of the mortal realm, the beings of the Angel Race, distinguished by their white wings, continually flew across the landscape. Wherever they passed, rivers of blood flowed and mountains of bones piled high, yet it was amidst this carnage and gore that their devotion to Gu Xiechen was forged, establishing itself with absolute, unshakeable solidity.

Through the efforts of the Nine Nether Path disciples and the Angel Race, one planet after another was brought under the umbrella of Gu Xiechen’s faith system.

A century later, nearly every planet in the mortal realm had become a domain of devotion to Gu Wuchen, and immense streams of faith power flowed into his body every single moment.

This unprecedented unification of the mortal realm—the grand endeavor of turning nearly all sentient beings into his adherents—was realized under Gu Wuchen’s hand. Yet, the transformations brought about by Gu Xiechen’s ascension to sainthood did not end there.

In a foul mood, I once again went out yesterday wearing only light trousers while a heavy snow fell in Shanghai. Pig Head caught a chill, and Saint is currently in the early stages of a severe cold.

Therefore, today I can only guarantee an update of ten thousand characters. I ask for everyone’s understanding. F