All Immortal Gods following this World of Great Contention were guessing: what exactly were the criteria for defining the head of the Hundred Schools?
Could it really be determined by the influence a school's teachings had within the Human Race?
Just as all eyes in the Prehistoric World were about to focus on the Nine Provinces of the Human Race, somewhere beneath the East Sea—
Crack!
Clang!
A withered green branch tore through space, arriving from an unknown land.
Then, from that uneven spatial rift, a rotten, withered tree stump slowly drifted out.
The cut on this dead stump was smooth and neat, as though it had been severed by some divine weapon. Traces of Destruction power still lingered upon it!
Its aura was suffocating.
Yet from a mere dead stump, it was impossible to tell what kind of tree it had once been.
Deathly energy coiled around it, tainting all things, but that deathly energy was gradually being covered by vitality. The trunk began to regain life, and the withered tree encountered spring, living out a second life.
"Only half of my true body remains?"
"Pangu's axe strike was truly ruthless."
A faint voice came from the withered stump.
It seemed to sigh, to tremble with lingering fear, and to feel helpless. In the end, it all became a weary sigh.
"So be it. The Great Dao has shown mercy, allowing me to survive by chance. To live out a second life through the remains of my dead body is already an immense blessing. There is no meaning in dwelling on the past any longer."
"The Bodhi Gods and Devils are already dead. The one who survived is a cultivator of the Prehistoric World—Subhuti."
Bodhi Gods and Devils... or rather, Subhuti, had severed himself from his former self.
He