Only a Few of Us Remain

With the deaths of the three Saints—Jieyin, Zhunti, and Xuanyuan—

the heavens and earth of the Primordial Wilderness once again let out waves of mournful cries.

Boundless blood rain poured down like an overturned celestial river.

The rain was so thick it seemed almost frozen solid, dyeing mountains and rivers dark red and turning the Four Seas into pools of blood.

As far as the eye could see, the entire Primordial Wilderness was shrouded within this sea of blood. Even the sun, moon, and stars had lost their brilliance, leaving only hazy halos upon the blood-red sky.

The impact this time was far greater than before.

After all, no fewer than three Saints had fallen this time.

On the battlefield between Xiqi and the Shang Dynasty, a Grand Unity Golden Immortal suddenly threw back his head and roared, "Three Saints falling in a single day... What has happened to our Primordial Wilderness?!"

His voice was filled with despair and confusion.

His Dao Heart trembled violently amid the blood rain, and his cultivation even began to regress.

At the same time, before the ancestral temple of the human race—

Suiren Shi, Youchao Shi, and Ziyi Shi, the three progenitors of humanity, led hundreds of millions of humans in kneeling before the temples of Xuanyuan and Shennong.

At that moment, the humans of both Xiqi and the Shang Dynasty abandoned their hatred and wept in unbearable grief.

Their cries pierced through the curtain of rain. Tears streamed down the faces of the three elders as their lips trembled, repeatedly muttering something under their breath.

At the other end of the Primordial Wilderness, the consequences were even more devastating.

The radiant Buddhist light protecting the disciples of the Western Teachings suddenly dimmed the instant Jieyin and Zhunti fell.

Countless bhikkhus and arhats turned