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

The shattered void of Chaoge City, the collapsed mountains and rivers, and the blurred figure of Emperor Xin—

Everything has become a distant memory.

Meng Chuan stood on the cloud, looking down at the wild yet vibrant land below, and took a deep breath.

The air was filled with a rich spiritual energy, several times more abundant than that of the primordial world during the Investiture of the Gods era.

Ancient trees reach for the sky, rivers flow as wide as the sea, and the distant roars of giant beasts can be faintly heard.

Houtu stood beside him, following his gaze into the distance, and whispered, "How are you feeling?"

"It has a lot of spiritual energy."

Meng Chuan stretched his shoulders. "It's much more comfortable than that era. In that primordial world, the spiritual energy had been almost completely depleted, and the laws of heaven and earth had been repeatedly eroded by sages. Compared to this place, it was practically a barren land."

"That's because the primordial world of this era has not yet experienced the full devastation of the Lich War."

Houtu's voice carried a hint of emotion, "In a while, you won't be able to see this scene anymore."

Meng Chuan was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Now that Yi shooting down the suns is over, what's the situation?"

Houtu replied, "The corpses of those nine golden crows have just fallen to the earth, and the demon race is in an uproar. Dijun and Taiyi are gathering all the demon tribes, preparing for a full-scale retaliation against the witch race." "And what about the witch race?"

Houtu's gaze became somewhat complicated. "They know the demon race won't let this go easily, but Yi shooting down the sun was a major victory for the witch race—it boosted morale and also showed the witch race the demon race's weaknesses. To be honest, the witch race, from top to bottom, is somewhat...excited right now."

Meng Chuan nodded, but did not speak immediately.

He closed his eyes, and his divine sense spread out like a tide, instantly covering the entire prehistoric continent.

He "saw" it—

In the East, within the Palace of the Sun God, Di Jun's face was ashen, and the wine cup in his hand was crushed into pieces.

Taiyi stood to the side, his face equally gloomy.

The ten golden crows were their most beloved offspring, but now nine of them have died tragically, and only the youngest one remains missing.

Within the Heavenly Court of the Demon Race, the crowd was filled with righteous indignation, and calls for battle rose and fell.

In the north, in the Pangu Palace, the twelve ancestral witches gathered together.

Dijiang sat in the center, a hint of solemn joy on his face. Zhurong loudly proclaimed that he would teach the demon race a lesson, while Gonggong poured cold water on his enthusiasm.

In the west, on Mount Sumeru, two figures stood atop the mountain, gazing at the chaotic sky in the east.

Their faces wore compassionate smiles, but their eyes gleamed with calculation.

In the south, beneath the immortal volcano, the remnants of the Phoenix Clan lie dormant deep within the lava, oblivious to the conflicts of the outside world.

In the center, Mount Buzhou still stands majestically, supporting the heavens and the earth.

Atop the mountain, a hazy figure appeared and disappeared—

That was Hongjun's Daoist temple, a projection of Zixiao Palace.

Meng Chuan's divine sense lingered on that figure for a moment before withdrawing it.

"interesting."

He opened his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. "The Hongjun of this world is indeed much weaker than that of the other world."

Houtu looked at him: "Are you planning to go find him now?"

"No rush." ​​Meng Chuan shook his head. "I've just arrived in this world, and there's still a lot I need to learn. Besides—"

He looked eastward, his gaze becoming somewhat playful. "I want to see just how far this war between the liches will go."

"You're not planning to get involved?"

"Not for the time being."

Meng Chuan spoke casually, and Hou Tu didn't say much more.

Just then, Meng Chuan's gaze suddenly sharpened.

His divine sense detected an unusual aura—

A faint, panicked breath was rapidly fleeing westward.

That was the aura of the Golden Crow.

The last of the ten golden crows.

Meng Chuan narrowed his eyes, his divine sense following the aura closely, tracing it all the way to the western border.

Then, he saw a scene that piqued his interest—to the west, at the foot of Mount Sumeru.

A small golden crow, its body charred black and its feathers disheveled, stumbled and fell from the sky.

It was only the size of an ordinary crow, and the true fire of the sun on its body was so faint as to be almost invisible. A broken arrow was stuck in its wing.

That was Yi's arrow. Although it didn't hit a vital spot, the residual witch power was still eroding its life force.

It is the smallest of the ten golden crows, and is usually the most pampered by its older brothers, and is also the most naive and innocent.

When Yi's arrows came flying like meteors, it was his nine older brothers who shielded him from the deadly arrows with their bodies, giving him a chance to survive.

It flew desperately, desperately, not knowing where to go, only knowing that it had to get away from that hellish place.

It flew over thousands of mountains and rivers, over the territory of the witch clan, over the settlements of the human race, and all the way to the west—a strange place it had never set foot in before.

Finally, it exhausted its last bit of strength and fell from the sky.

boom!

With a soft thud, the little golden crow fell onto a soft patch of grass, rolled around a few times, and struggled to stand up, but failed.

Its vision began to blur, and its consciousness began to fade. Was it going to die?

It thought vaguely.

That's good... this way I can go see my father and brothers...

Just as its consciousness was about to completely sink into darkness, a gentle voice sounded in its ear:

"Poor child."

A broad, kind hand gently lifted it from the ground.

That palm contained a warm and peaceful power, like a spring breeze, gradually dispelling the witchcraft within it.

The little golden crow struggled to open its eyes and vaguely saw two faces.

His face was kind and compassionate, with eyes that seemed to hold endless wisdom and mercy.

The other face was thin and gaunt, with a faint smile on its lips and deep, ancient eyes.

"Senior brother, this child is seriously injured."

The kind-faced man spoke, his voice tinged with pity. "It's alright."

The thin face smiled slightly, "Take him back to the mountains and recuperate properly; he will recover soon."

The kind-faced man nodded, then looked down at the little golden crow in his hand and sighed softly, "Poor child, suffering such a calamity... you must be feeling terrified and uneasy."

"It's good to be anxious and uneasy."

With a gaunt face, he said meaningfully, "It is in times of fear that good deeds are most easily sown."

The kind-faced woman glanced at him, offering no rebuttal, but gently stroked the little golden crow's feathers, and said softly, "Child, don't be afraid. From now on, you will cultivate with us, shall we?"

The little golden crow's consciousness was extremely blurred, but it vaguely understood that sentence.

With its last bit of strength, it nodded gently.

Then it fell into a deep sleep.

The kind-faced man looked up, exchanged a glance with his companion, and a hint of satisfaction flashed in both of their eyes.

"Let's go, senior brother."

"Hmm." The two figures transformed into two golden rays and disappeared into the depths of Mount Sumeru.