My classmates chose martial arts and fantasy, but I chose the prehistoric world.

In the primordial era, years were not recorded.

Two thousand two hundred years have passed since the Primordial Beginning descended upon the ancestral land of the Witch Clan and attacked Meng Chuan.

During this period, the primordial world was peaceful and calm. All the sages followed the decree of Hongjun and stayed in their temples, not daring to step out.

On this day, a crimson-gold pillar of starlight shot into the sky from the direction of the Demon Clan's Heavenly Court, piercing through the thirty-three heavens!

Amidst the starlight, Di Jun's figure slowly rose, with the Hetu Luoshu spinning wildly above his head, and the illusory images of the stars manifesting behind him, evolving into an endless starry sky.

An immense pressure emanated from him, causing countless powerful demons in the Heavenly Court to kneel and tremble in fear.

Peak Quasi-Saint!

Emperor Jun, the Demon Emperor, has officially entered the peak of Quasi-Saint!

In the Heavenly Emperor's Palace, Di Jun concealed his aura and slowly landed.

He stood in the hall, clenched his fist, felt the power surging within him several times stronger, and a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.

"Peak of Quasi-Saint... I've finally reached it!"

Another 1,600 years have passed.

In the Eastern Emperor Palace, a bell rang, its sound echoing throughout the thirty-three heavens!

The Eastern Emperor Bell hung above Taiyi's head, its body adorned with the sun, moon, stars, and the Dao patterns of earth, water, fire, and wind, all shining brightly in harmony with his aura.

Tai Zhou's body was ablaze with crimson-gold divine flames, releasing his peak Quasi-Saint aura without reservation, scorching and distorting the void within the hall.

Donghuang Taiyi has also reached the peak of Quasi-Saint!

The two great emperors of the demon race have both reached the peak of Quasi-Saint, and the fortune of the demon race has risen again, like the sun at its zenith!

Taiyi regained his senses, looked towards Mount Buzhou, and a cold smile appeared on his lips. "Meng Chuan, your death is drawing ever closer. Once you're dead, our demon race will once again send troops to the witch race and wipe those barbarians from the primordial world!"

Two thousand years have passed.

Kunlun Mountain, side hall of Yuxu Palace.

Two beams of Buddha light shot into the sky simultaneously, shining brightly together!

Golden light filled the sky, and the sound of chanting filled the air. Golden lotuses appeared in the void, and the phantom of the Western Paradise was faintly visible.

Jieyin sat cross-legged on a twelve-petaled golden lotus, his face showing a mixture of suffering and relief, his body radiating Buddhist light, and the aura of a peak Quasi-Saint permeating the air.

Zhunti stood beside him, with the Seven Treasures Tree hanging above his head, its seven-colored divine light flowing around him, and he too had stepped into the peak of Quasi-Sainthood.

The two brothers, both disciples, broke through to the next level!

Yuanshi arrived immediately and was overjoyed to see the two of them break through.

"Good! Good! Good!"

He exclaimed "Good!" three times, his face beaming with delight. "Both of you have broken through to the peak of Quasi-Saint, taking another step closer to becoming Saints!"

Jieyin concealed his aura, stood up, and bowed to Yuanshi, saying, "Thank you for your protection over the years, Fellow Daoist Yuanshi."

"No need for such formalities."

Yuanshi waved his hand, his eyes gleaming. "You two, if you can become saints in the next twelve hundred years, killing Meng Chuan will be much easier with you by your side!"

Jieyin and Zhunti exchanged a glance and nodded in unison.

In the past, Meng Chuan forced them to hide in the Demon Court with Yuan Shi. Yuan Shi lost face, and they felt humiliated as well!

If they are able to become saints in the future, they will naturally not let Meng Chuan off easily.

at the same time.

The ancestral home of the Wu tribe.

Outside the Pangu Temple, Meng Chuan stood under an ancient tree, gazing at the distant horizon with a profound look in his eyes.

"Five hundred years until we return..."

He muttered to himself, his tone carrying an indescribable complexity.

Over the years, due to the lack of manifestation of the laws, his cultivation progress has been slow, remaining at the late stage of Quasi-Saint, still a long way from the peak.

Houtu and the other eleven ancestral witches were similar.

In this era of tightening Heavenly Dao, it is extremely difficult for cultivators who follow the path of laws to break through.

With only five hundred years left, Meng Chuan did not intend to continue his seclusion.

After thinking about it, he decided to travel around the prehistoric world and collect some "local specialties" to bring back to Earth.

When he told Houtu about this idea, Houtu nodded gently, "I'll go with you."

So the two of them left the ancestral land of the witch clan together.

Next, the two went into hiding, concealing their cultivation levels. In the eyes of others, they were just two "ordinary" humans who had acquired their cultivation.

Meng Chuan changed into a gray cloth robe, and Hou Tu changed into a plain dress. The two walked side by side through the ancient mountains and rivers...

They visited a human tribe and watched the humans dance around a campfire at night.

They had been to the coast of the East China Sea to watch the golden shimmering light that rose from the sea at sunrise.

They had been to the Ten Thousand Mountains in the south, where they saw exotic flowers and herbs covering the mountains and picked up many rare medicinal herbs.

They had been to the Gobi Desert in the western desert and watched the sunset turn the sand dunes golden.

The two didn't talk much along the way.

But that tacit understanding seems to have lasted for millions of years.

Sometimes, when Meng Chuan stopped to determine the direction, Hou Tu would stand quietly beside him, not urging him, but just looking at the distant mountains, waiting for him to make a decision.

Sometimes, when passing by a hillside covered with wildflowers, Houtu would stop and take a second look. Mengchuan would then not rush to leave, but would stand there with her until she looked away.

Where the mountain path was rugged, Meng Chuan would subconsciously reach out his hand, and Hou Tu would not refuse, but naturally grasp it, using it to help him cross that difficult section of the road, as if he had truly become a human without any cultivation.

After they loosened their grip, neither of them spoke, as if it were just an ordinary action.

In some people's eyes, they are like a perfect couple, a match made in heaven.

When the two stand together, the natural feeling makes it hard not to have such thoughts.

Occasionally, passing monks would see them and whisper among themselves:

"Those two look like a perfect match!"

"Yes, although his cultivation level doesn't seem high, his demeanor is unlike that of an ordinary person."

……

When Meng Chuan heard these words, his expression remained unchanged, but the corners of his mouth would unconsciously turn up.

Houtu heard it too, but she didn't say anything. She just lowered her eyes and looked at the road beneath her feet.

Sometimes, the two would walk side by side on a mountain path, their sleeves occasionally touching before gently separating.

Meng Chuan raised his hand, as if he wanted to take her hand, but in the end he just clenched his fist and put it down.

Houtu noticed his little action, but pretended not to see it. She simply slowed her pace a little to get closer to him.

They were so close they could feel each other's breath...

But no one dared to break through that thin veil!

We will part ways in five hundred years.

Meng Chuan did not want to leave Hou Tu with too many worries...

His departure may be a final farewell!

Houtu is similar.

She was also worried about putting pressure on Meng Chuan.

If he were to leave and never return, yet still long for her in his heart, he would surely be even more distressed.

They both thought of each other.

They continued walking side by side, traversing mountains and rivers, witnessing sunrises and sunsets.

Occasionally, Houtu would reach out and pluck a leaf from the roadside, hold it in her palm for a while, and then gently put it down.

Sometimes, Meng Chuan would stop, pick two spirit fruits, and hand one to her. She would take it, eat it in small bites, and then bury the pit in the soil by the roadside.

The two interacted naturally and peacefully, as if they had already walked through countless years like this and would continue to do so.

But they all knew that time was running out.

On this day, the two arrived at the top of an unnamed mountain.

As the sun sets, it paints the sky a brilliant orange-red.

Meng Chuan stood atop the mountain, gazing into the distance, and remained silent for a long time.

Houtu stood beside him without saying a word.

The wind blew, lifting the ends of her hair and gently brushing against his arm.

Meng Chuan felt the gentle touch that was about to end, and his fingers instinctively curled up slightly.

Houtu's hair was still clinging to his sleeve. She turned her head and reached out to tuck that strand of hair behind her ear, her movements very gentle, as if afraid of disturbing something.

He didn't turn around to look at her, but simply spoke softly, "Houtu."

"Um?"

"Thank you for all these years."

After a long silence, Houtu finally spoke softly, "Me too."

Then, neither of them spoke again.

The setting sun cast long, long shadows of the two people, which eventually merged together, making them indistinguishable from one another.