Do Not Claim Divinity in the World

Han Zheng had heard of the Incense Cult.

The neighboring Huainan Dao was nearly completely occupied by the Incense Cult, and its name now resounded throughout the entire Great Zhou.

The Incense Cult worshipped the Supreme of the Nine Heavens, Merciful and Vast Salvation of All Beings, True Spirit Master, also known as the Merciful Mother.

All believers of the Merciful Mother were required to soak incense in their own blood to light it, sending crimson smoke into the sky—this was the hallmark of the Incense Cult.

In Han Zheng's eyes, the Incense Cult was a textbook evil cult.

Not because of their blood-soaked incense or other methods.

But because any religion whose deity was alive and present in the world was by definition an evil cult.

No one may claim to be a god while alive.

You could be a god's messenger, a god's son, but you could not call yourself a god on earth.

Li Feng walked up beside Han Zheng, his expression grave. "A few years ago, when I went to Huainan Dao to purchase Spiritual Medicine, I saw those veteran Incense Cult believers.

Aside from eating and drinking, whenever they had any energy, they would bleed themselves to light incense. They said that after smelling the incense, they could see the Nine Levels of Ultimate Bliss, the homeland of eternal life.

The Incense Cult claimed that if you sincerely worshipped the Merciful Mother, you would enter that eternal homeland after death—no life, no death, no sin, no calamity.

In the end, some believers bled themselves to death, still wearing that dazed, ecstatic expression even as they died.

Back then, the Incense Cult hadn't yet taken over Huainan Dao on a large scale, but I already felt it was no good."

Han Zheng said quietly, "If we can't fight them, we avoid them. Have the caravan take a detour. It'll be a hard trip, but we'll rest once we reach Black Stone County."

The Great Zhou had nineteen circuits. The fact that the Incense Cult could seize one and shake the entire realm spoke volumes about its strength.

A sect capable of throwing an entire circuit into chaos—whether it called itself righteous or evil—was not something Han Zheng and his people could afford to provoke.

Under Han Zheng and Li Feng's direction, the caravan began to detour.

But with so many people, their movements were hard to conceal, and they were eventually noticed by the Incense Cult.

The cultists who had been leading the villagers in chanting detected the caravan's activity. Two of them exchanged a glance, each holding a stick of incense, and quickly approached the caravan.

They were ordinary-looking men, around forty or fifty years old, with faces bearing the marks of years of sun and labor—like simple, weathered farmers.

But their white robes were spotless, almost dazzlingly bright, a stark contrast to their plain features.

"Good sirs, meeting is fate. How about lighting a stick of incense and offering some incense fire to the Merciful Mother?"

The leading cultist was slightly plump, a simple smile on his face as he held out the incense to Han Zheng.

His tone was polite, but his words carried an air that brooked no refusal.

Li Feng's expression shifted. He took two steps back instinctively and looked at Han Zheng.

"Apologies, but the caravan is in a hurry. We don't have time to bleed for incense right now."

The other cultist, tall and gaunt, narrowed his eyes, his tone turning slightly hostile.

"Soaking incense in blood is how believers show their devotion. How can you call it 'bleeding'? If you won't even light a single stick, do you have some objection to the Incense Cult?"

Han Zheng said steadily, "We have no objection to your sect. But the caravan truly is pressed for time."

The slightly plump cultist laughed loudly. "A single stick of incense won't cost you much time."

As he spoke, he took a step forward and in an instant was right in front of Han Zheng.

The hand holding the incense half-clenched into a fist, blood and qi surging and shifting, like a child offering incense—but the fierce Fist Intent was already rushing straight at Han Zheng's face.

Whether he wanted it or not, he would have to accept that incense!

Han Zheng didn't move. The tendons and bones in his arm churned with blood and qi as he formed a hand seal and slammed it down from above.

Vajra Wrathful Glare, Demon Subduing!

The child offering incense clashed with Vajra Demon Subduing.

A heavy, muffled boom erupted between them.

The incense stick in the plump cultist's hand fell, shaken loose by the violent tremor of blood and qi in his palm.

Han Zheng caught it and offered it back with both hands.

"Time waits for no one. We promised our employer we'd deliver the goods on schedule. We simply can't afford the delay."

The plump cultist gave Han Zheng a long, hard look. The simple smile slowly faded from his face.

After a moment, he took back the incense and said flatly, "Since you're in a hurry, so be it. But fate brought us together, and we'll meet again."

"Farewell."

Han Zheng cupped his hands and immediately signaled the caravan to move on.

Watching them leave, the tall, gaunt cultist frowned. "Brother, why let them go? The Merciful Mother loves the incense of martial artists most. A Houtian Middle Stage martial artist burning incense with blood is worth more than a hundred ordinary people."

"That young man is no simple opponent."

The plump cultist glanced at his fist. It was bright red, a clear sign of lingering blood and qi backlash.

"His cultivation may not have reached Houtian Late Stage, but his strength is truly astonishing."

That particular hand seal was especially exquisite and profound—it must be a Xiantian martial art!

Lingering here to tangle with them will delay the sect's important affairs. Getting to other villages to spread the faith is the key—don't forget the task the incense master assigned.

We brothers are only three hundred people short of accumulating enough incense credit. Once we exchange for two Heavenly Fragrance Breakthrough Pills, we'll step into Xiantian in no time.

Judging by their direction, they're heading for Blackstone County in Shannan Circuit. The sect should already have made arrangements—we're about to move into Shannan Circuit soon.

Remember this man. When we spread the faith in Blackstone County later, he'll be on his knees begging us for a stick of incense.

The slightly plump cultist's smile gradually faded, turning cold and fierce.

Meanwhile, back at the merchant convoy.

Li Feng let out a long breath and patted his chest. "That really scared me just now. Lucky you, Brother Han, for holding them off."

Han Zheng shook his head. "Those two weren't weak—they've opened more acupoints and meridians than I have. I had to go all out just to intimidate them.

It must be that they had other business. Otherwise, if they'd forced us to smell the incense, we'd either have to bleed or fight a tough battle.

Most importantly, once we fought, we'd definitely offend the Incense-Smelling Sect. Then whether we could even make it back to the county town would be anyone's guess."

Li Feng sighed. "Yeah, the Incense-Smelling Sect has been growing like a snowball these past years. Their strength is truly terrifying.

Those two in white robes were just the lowest-level white-robed cultists, responsible for spreading the faith to common folk.

After a year as a white-robed cultist, they can paint one golden holy pattern on their white robes.

The Incense-Smelling Sect must have tens of millions of these lowest-level white-robed cultists. Heaven knows how they train so many Houtian martial artists."

After hearing Li Feng's words, Han Zheng gained a deeper understanding of the Incense-Smelling Sect's foundation.

Although those two cultists had slightly higher cultivation than Han Zheng, they were far inferior in power application and martial techniques.

Han Zheng might not come from a major sect, but Li Jingzhong's disciples all had solid foundations, able to bring out ten-tenths of their power.

Those Incense-Smelling Sect cultists, on the other hand, could only bring out at most seven or eight-tenths of their power, which was why Han Zheng's Vajra Demon-Subduing Seal repelled them.

But those two were just the lowest-level white-robed cultists. According to Li Feng, they'd probably joined the sect less than a year ago.

Before that, they might not have even touched martial arts—just farmers tilling the land.

Yet in such a short time, they'd reached this level of cultivation. No wonder the Incense-Smelling Sect's growth was so terrifying.

"Brother Han, that move of yours just now looked like Vajra Fist, but not quite. It felt really powerful."

Wang Bao leaned in, a little curious.

The Vajra Demon-Subduing Seal evolved from Vajra Fist, so naturally they looked somewhat similar.

Wang Bao didn't suspect anything—he just thought his own version was different from Han Zheng's.

But he knew Han Zheng's strength, so he worried he'd practiced wrong himself.

"The master said that real combat isn't like sparring in the training hall, where everyone sets up their fist stances and trades blows by the book.

As long as you can bring out the true essence of Vajra Fist, even if you use your palm, it's still Vajra Fist."

As he spoke, Han Zheng suddenly clenched his fist and swung it at Wang Bao.

The wind howled like a vajra pestle smashing down, stopping right in front of Wang Bao and startling him.

Han Zheng's Vajra Fist proficiency had reached perfection. With a casual move, he could channel its true essence, easily fooling Wang Bao and the others.

"Brother Han truly is the top disciple among our batch. I've learned something."

Wang Bao's face was full of admiration.

They'd all started training at the same time—how did he cultivate? Why was he so outstanding?

Afraid Wang Bao would ask more questions, Han Zheng walked over to Li Feng and told him to have the convoy pick up the pace.

Actually, Li Feng didn't need the urging.

Because of the Incense-Smelling Sect incident, the convoy didn't dare rest at all, traveling straight through the night until they finally saw Blackstone County's city walls at dawn the next day.

Once inside the city, Li Feng's face was full of exhaustion as he let out a long breath.

"This trip was really full of twists and turns. Lucky we made it back to Blackstone County safely."

Li Sancheng also had dark circles under his eyes, sighing deeply.

"Yeah, the outside world is way too dangerous. Home is safe. This silver really isn't easy to earn."

Li Sancheng had even made up his mind—he'd rather work as a guard for some household than be an escort again.

He knew money was hard to earn and shit was hard to eat.

Eating shit was one thing, but if it cost you your life, that wasn't worth it.

Just then, Chen Baiqing led over a dozen workers from Shengtang Hall to meet them from the other side of the street.

Before entering the city, Li Feng had already sent someone ahead to report.

"Everyone's worked hard."

Chen Baiqing greeted them with a delighted expression.

With the convoy back safely, he could rest easy—this batch of medicinal herbs would last him a good long while.

"Where's Steward Chen? Why isn't he here?"

Han Zheng dragged Steward Chen down from the carriage—bound hand and foot, with what looked like someone's stinking sock stuffed in his mouth.

"Right here."

"What... what's the meaning of this?"

Li Feng walked over, pulled Chen Baiqing aside, and recounted everything that had happened on the road in painstaking detail.

At the end, Li Feng paused and added, "Head Shopkeeper, the shop assistants saw it all with their own eyes. You can ask them yourself if you want."

"No need. I trust you."

Compared to the joy from before, Chen Baiqing's face had now darkened, black as the bottom of a pot.