Surrounding Lu Yiren

"What am I doing?"

Lu Yiren was utterly stunned. He stared blankly at his own hands. Just now, he had had no idea what he was doing—he had suddenly twisted the neck of the alien in front of him!

"How could I kill one of my own kind?"

He hurriedly held the alien's neck, but he had struck far too hard. The neck was broken and limp, and no matter how he tried, he could not prop it up.

Just then, the alien's Primordial Spirit burst from his body, about to open his mouth and shout. Without thinking, Lu Yiren pierced his forehead with one finger.

That alien was also a Dao Realm Eighth Layer expert, and his cultivation and strength were not much inferior to Lu Yiren's. Yet he died in such a wretched state, unwilling to accept it as he breathed his last.

Lu Yiren hurriedly pulled out his finger, his heart thrown into chaos. He murmured, "It's not my fault. I didn't want to attack... I just didn't want you to shout. I don't want you to destroy the Three Realms. I don't want to become a murderer like you..."

His mind was a tangled mess. Unknowingly, he seemed to have returned to ten million years ago. Back then, he had been thrown into the Human World by Biyan Hai, the Dragon Court's Heavenly Prime Minister.

He had crashed into the Human World, been grievously injured, and become a cripple who could barely move.

The Human World of that era had been nothing short of hell. Countless people had suffered worse fates than him. Skeletons lay everywhere, flames raged everywhere, corpses littered the land, and white bones that had been corrupted into monsters rampaged and slaughtered.

The sky was collapsing, the earth was burning, and everything was