Even during the heyday of the God of Light, only a few archbishops would organize such sacrificial prayers on festival days. However, even then, the effects of those sacrificial prayers were not necessarily as powerful as they are today.

　　Under the pressure of life and death, when grief and anger reached their peak, and under the guidance of Saint and the high-ranking believers, the shallow believers’ hearts erupted with a power they had never experienced before.

　　This power transformed into a continuous stream of faith, surging into the divine kingdom.

　　In the divine kingdom, William Clark, who was preparing to descend but had not yet arrived, suddenly sensed that powerful channel of faith. This channel, formed by the united will of the masses, was so solid, so strong.

　　Before this, among all the channels of faith connected to William Clark, the one from Saint Catherine was the strongest and most solid. But even Catherine’s channel of faith was not even one percent as strong as this.

　　Pure faith power surged through the channel into the divinity.

　　On William Clark’s information panel, the number representing faith power kept jumping, leaping from the initial 68 points to 100 in the blink of an eye. And that wasn’t all—the number kept climbing, soon reaching 300, then 600...

　　Sudden wealth—this was the pace of getting rich overnight~

　　It was the first time William Clark had seen faith power grow at such a terrifying speed; his heart was pounding with excitement, almost leaping out of his chest.

　　……

　　Meanwhile, in the Saint Luke Monastery, the Hymn of Light still echoed in the sky, the rain of light continued to fall, and under the united will of hundreds of believers, the momentum of faith that gathered was incomparably powerful, as if a wall of light had been formed.

　　The soldiers’ steps grew slower and slower, their faces filled with doubt and fear.

　　Could it be that a miracle had truly descended?

　　Unlike the believers, when the rain of light fell on them, it brought only terror. Because this signified that the enemy they were about to face was very likely a deity.

　　A true, living deity!

　　The soldiers of the Third Patrol Regiment of Luke City were just the most ordinary soldiers of the Empire—ordinary training, ordinary equipment, and even more ordinary willpower. During the time under the Light Empire, one-tenth of these ordinary soldiers were shallow believers, while the rest either had no faith or were false believers.

　　When it came to slaughtering unarmed civilians, of course they were brave enough. But to go up against a deity—how could they possibly have the courage?

　　For a moment, the vast majority of the patrol regiment soldiers wavered; some even stopped in their tracks, and the formation immediately fell into chaos.

　　“Idiots, idiots!”

　　Captain Nick roared in anger: “Don’t be bewitched by that false Saint! That’s just a ‘Hymn of Light’—a battlefield divine art, nothing more than a battlefield divine art! Kill, everyone, attack with me!”

　　As he spoke, he charged toward the crowd at the front.

　　Nick was considered experienced and knowledgeable; he recognized this move as the “Hymn of Light.” But he never expected that the Hymn of Light, which was rumored to be barely performed even by archbishops, would be unleashed by the false Saint Catherine, and that it would instantly turn the tide.

　　But now there was no room for retreat. He could only lead the charge, break up the hand-in-hand believers of the God of Light, and try to regain control of the situation.

　　This was the plan he had presented to the city lord; if the mission failed, his fate was easy to imagine.

　　A dozen of Nick’s personal guards, his loyal subordinates, hesitated only briefly before following Nick into the charge.

　　A dozen horses’ hooves pounded on the stone-paved road, producing a dull, murderous thunder, like a storm sweeping toward the crowd of believers.

　　The charge of a dozen cavalrymen actually created the momentum of a thousand troops, the commotion shaking the heavens!

　　If those in front of them had been a disorderly band of small-time bandits, such a display would have already caused them to scatter. However, at this moment, standing before Nick was a group of believers engaged in a massive prayer, their faith united into a giant rope.

　　They too felt fear and dread, but in the face of adversity, their hearts became even purer, their faith even more resolute.

　　The convergence of collective emotion is incomparably powerful; in this instant, every believer was a steadfast martyr!

　　“Charge, charge!”

　　Nick shouted wildly, his two-handed greatsword already glowing with battle aura. He was convinced he could break through these unarmed believers of the God of Light.

　　Once the believers scattered, the myth of the God of Light would be shattered, and his soldiers would no longer be afraid.

　　“Kill!”

　　The swordsman Landon and three other devout believers had, at some point, taken up positions at the very front, aiming their swords and spears at the charging cavalry.

　　Four infantrymen against a dozen cavalry, including the fully armored, level-3 knight Nick.

　　There was no doubt—this was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

　　Yet in their devout eyes, there was not a trace of fear—on the contrary, there was a hint of fanaticism. Yes, fanaticism, the kind of emotion seen in zealots was evident in them.

　　This was a natural change; even the shallow believers, under the influence of collective will, had developed a willingness to die for their faith. As devout believers, how could they not be changed as well?