Unlike some religious believers I encountered during my travels across the country long ago, Jiaoshu, this God believer, revealed a hint of objectivity based on knowledge when analyzing the relationship between Gods and believers.

However, knowledge does not always alleviate fanaticism. In fact, there are cases where knowing more results in increased fear and worship. If Mazao's father had more understanding of the world of the demon hunters, he might not have dared to threaten me in that way; meanwhile, believers in the God from Luo Mountain know a lot about Impermanence, yet it does not affect their reverence for Impermanence in the slightest.

Gods actually do not need believers—at least, this is what Jiaoshu claims, and it aligns with everything I have come across.

While the believer community undoubtedly serves as an anchor for the Gods, preventing Impermanence from becoming lost, it was this motivation that initially led me to allow Mr. Zhu and others to develop a community of my believers. Yet, I later learned that the role of the believer community as an anchor for Impermanence is quite dubious. At most, it is an embellishment, something that cannot be relied upon in dire times. Therefore, every Impermanence has anchoring methods outside of the believer community, and I am no exception.

Historically, none of the Impermanence that have fallen into the phenomenon of loss did so due to the lack of support from a believer community. On the other hand, there are also extreme examples like the King Zhuanlun—let alone relying on believers for connections, most people even doubt his actual existence in Luo Mountain. Even now, this Impermanence has not fallen into loss, proving that the key to preventing loss lies not in the believers but in whether there is the power to anchor one's own existence.

Strictly speaking, believers are not entirely without utility for Impermanence, but it is not their "value as believers," but rather their "value as expendables"—just like the current Taoyuan Village Master Meng Zhang, who has undertaken such actions to gather three million human souls, isn't it?

On one hand, there are Gods who do not need believers, and on the other, believers who know they are not needed—why do believers continue to exist?

"Gods do not need our faith, but we need to have faith in Gods," Jiaoshu said.

I probed further: "Is it because faith can bring power?"

"For those of you without belief in Gods, that's probably how it seems."

Jiaoshu couldn't realize the informed inclination hidden in my words, merely answering as I led: "Not everyone can understand faith, but they can understand benefits. As long as one devoutly believes in Xuanming, they can establish a connection with Xuanming's retribution body, receiving blessings from the unseen—this is also a reason we have used in the past to persuade others to join the Xuanming faith, but…"

She seemed unable to clearly describe her faith mentality herself. Though a devout believer, she couldn't articulate her feelings clearly, which seemed somewhat contradictory, yet perhaps unsurprising.

To analyze and organize emotions in the heart, transform them into language that can be spoken, and words that can be written, especially turning them into "words that even the indifferent can empathize with," is in itself a deconstruction of self-emotion, where rational deconstruction often stands in contrast to fervent religious faith.

Instead, as an observer, I can, by observing her soul, relatively clearly analyze her emotions.

Her awe of Impermanence is very similar to the awe mortals have for heaven and earth.

To explain the unpredictable power of heaven and earth, ancient people anthropomorphized natural phenomena. Storms happen because the Wind God and Rain God exert their power, earthquakes and droughts occur due to the descent of corresponding Gods bringing disaster, etc. Thus, people feared the heavenly and earthly gods, and from fear, worship was born, trying every means to sacrifice to the gods, praying for peace on earth.

Demon hunters know the truth of the Gods, they know Impermanence is essentially beings with tremendous power, and they also deeply understand that any Impermanence possesses the power to destroy the world, knowing that everything they live on is built upon the whim of Impermanence. Just like the ancient mortals, they are incredibly fearful of Impermanence, simultaneously instinctively worshiping this grand power that connects heaven and earth.

Yet no matter how much they sacrifice, droughts and floods descend when they will, earthquakes occur when they must. From ancient times to now, countless have died in them, yet people continue to worship and sacrifice to the heavenly and earthly gods.

Even the wantonly reckless Ming Zhuo has adherents. Rarely will anyone claim Impermanence is wrong because Impermanence itself serves as a benchmark for right and wrong, the center defining morality. Even the capriciousness of Impermanence itself is part of its divine image, one of the fundamental reasons the believer community anxiously worships Impermanence.

They knowingly or unknowingly accept this logic—that Gods are qualified to wield their power freely between heaven and earth. If they happen to be in the way and become collateral damage leading to death, it's their own issue. People harbor hatred when persecuted by another person but don't hate the storm that strikes them. To them, Impermanence is not an entity of the same dimension as themselves but a personification of the nature of impermanence.

From observing the speech and manners of Luo Mountain demon hunters, I even suspect they may believe that Impermanence, in essence, is not something that actually exists in the real world, but rather a metaphysical concept and moral system. The manifestation of Impermanence in the real world is seen as the embodiment of that abstract concept, what is called the Dao made flesh. Perhaps some might even view me that way.

If Impermanence could be easily swayed, hesitating because there are lives on the path that could be touched, it's like saying a natural storm would reroute because there are pedestrians on the road. Maybe in some people's eyes, that would instead diminish the Divinity of Impermanence.

After finishing her rest, Jiaoshu continued to lead me forward, and after a long while, we arrived at a subway station.

"Here we are, this is it," Jiaoshu said.

This subway station is built together with a shopping mall; she took me to the underground level of the mall. Many eateries are set up here, one could imagine a lively scene where countless passersby drawn to the station are enticed by the array of food. But now, the place is deathly silent, giving rise to a sense of horror formed by the contrast.

After passing through corridor after corridor, we arrived at the subway platform. On the way, Jiaoshu explained that Xuanming believers lurking in various parts of the city had restored some subway lines. If this place were attacked by Taoyuan Village cultivators, they could quickly evacuate the survivors gathered here through the subway trains. The vast underground transport network of subway lines itself is also what Xuanming believers rely on to operate.

However, what Jiaoshu spoke of was not quite what I saw.

Upon entering the area, we were met with an immensely chaotic and gruesome scene.

The platform bore pockmarks left by high-intensity combat, and numerous human corpses lay there. Many of the bodies were no longer intact; dismembered limbs and torsos lay scattered, blood was pooled everywhere along with entrails, the air heavy with the fetor of blood and half-digested excrement.

Judging by the "volume of flesh," there are estimated to be over seventy human casualties here. Combined with the number of survivors and Xuanming believers Jiaoshu mentioned on the way, it roughly adds up. Besides the human corpses, there were also some monster bodies mixed in. The platform had transformed into a chilling and nausea-inducing heap of corpses and sea of blood.

The bodies were all very fresh, still steaming with warmth. Among the piles of blood and flesh that seemed to be strewn about like garbage, there were still a dozen or so monsters alive. They were feasting on the fresh flesh and organs on the ground. As we inadvertently barged into this "restaurant," they stopped gnawing and chewing, looking straight at us with chillingly cold eyes.

"What is... going on here..." Jiaoshu muttered in disbelief.

Then, from the depths of the sea of corpses and blood, a surprised voice emerged, "...So there's still a fish that slipped through the net."

Jiaoshu reflexively looked in that direction, only to see a monster rise from the pile of flesh. It had crimson skin and a body of explosive muscles, although its head resembled that of the nearby monsters rather than a human. Its face was covered with smears of blood, residue of the flesh it was chewing like its fellow beasts. Appearing to reciprocate Jiaoshu's hostility, it revealed the fluctuations of its mana. This was an achieved-level monster, clearly a formidable adversary. This Taoyuan Village cultivator was able to single-handedly annihilate this entire subway refuge.

The unfamiliar Taoyuan Village cultivator first glanced at me, then turned to her and, as if in response to the animosity, said, "So you managed to dodge this disaster by hiding somewhere safe?"