No matter how unbelievable, how utterly inconceivable it was, reality lay before him. In the vast Jianghu Martial Arts World of the Divine Continent, the Ox-Head God truly counted as one of the foremost strongmen and masters.
Yet, at this very moment, within the Thunder Marsh Space, he was indeed incomparably weak, not much stronger than Liu An and Shi Jiawen, the two Innate Martial Artists.
Not to mention Meng Zhao—even Lei Wanche, who had now lost his humanity and was covered head to toe in lightning armor, could kill him with absolute ease.
Just think: if Lei Wanche himself had not developed a problem and lost some of his autonomy, then after gaining such tyrannical and terrifying power, he would never have readily spared the Ox-Head God, who had opposed him time and again.
Thus, the Ox-Head God's survival until now was absolutely not because his martial arts were so formidable or his strength so tyrannical.
It was simply because his luck had been good, allowing him to evade his own death tribulation.
At this moment, high in the heavens, Meng Zhao's aura had yet to fade. A force of the world that was utterly incompatible with the Thunder Marsh Space, yet exceptionally terrifying, expanded and contracted around the surface of his body, provoking layer upon layer of spatial ripples in the surroundings.
It seemed that any casual movement or exertion from Meng Zhao could shake the vault of heaven, shatter space, and obliterate everything.
At this very moment, he was practically a god walking the world—one who could rival the supreme beings of antiquity, an ultimate powerhouse capable of transcending at any time.
Of course, even with such immense and terrifying power, bearing the force of a universe-world, this still was not Meng Zhao's limit.
He still had