Divine Form

The mammoth Grandmasters leaped and shouted, celebrating the victory of the Power Stellar Altar.

The Grandmasters of the other beast tribes who had accompanied the Demigods here stepped forward and, following custom, congratulated the Eight-Tusk Mammoth Tribe.

In particular, the tribes of the defeated Demigods proactively declared that they would no longer send beasts to block the road ahead.

This contest of strength had proven the might of the Eight-Tusk Mammoth Tribe.

Zhou Leng and the others departed, while the Grandmasters of the remaining tribes carried their unconscious Demigods home.

Only the Two-Body Vicious Bear Tribe was rather miserable, returning with a corpse.

Mountain-Range Pythons were few in number, and only one had come.

Once all the beasts had left, the Mountain-Range Python recovering from its injuries looked around.

Where had all the beasts gone?

My bones haven't even healed yet. How did that hairless Vicious Ape leave all lively and bouncing?

The bones were in the middle of healing. He could not move recklessly now; one movement might make all his previous efforts go down the drain.

Too heavy.

Other Demigod beasts could fly through the air, but the Mountain-Range Python could not.

Too heavy.

He lay sprawled on the ground for a long while, flicking his tongue and cursing before slowly eating medicinal fruits.

Halfway through eating, he frowned and looked in the direction Zhou Leng had left.

If it had not been a contest of strength, but a fight to the death, who would have won?

Why were the bones broken by that hairless Vicious Ape so difficult to mend?

Forget it. I'll lie here and recover for half a month first.

The Mountain-Range Python lay limply on the ground. After lying there for quite some time, he suddenly raised his head and looked toward Zhou Leng