In the secluded valley, black clouds churned from time to time. From within them, enormous black hands reached out, seized drifting souls, and dragged them into the depths.
Luo Hou sat cross-legged inside the grand formation and muttered furiously to himself, "It's still not enough. More than a hundred thousand years have passed, and I've only just recovered to the Great Luo Realm. I can barely be called an expert. Now I have the Golden Flood Dragon Scissors, an Innate Spiritual Treasure, so ordinary creatures should pose no threat. But after these hundreds of thousands of years, the ancestors of the Dragon, Phoenix, and Kirin Tribes should have emerged by now. If I face them, I'm more likely to lose than win."
Luo Hou suppressed his restless urge to act and continued performing the Soul Summoning Technique. He still had to gather the scattered souls between Heaven and Earth; only then would his Primordial Spirit stand a chance.
Time passed slowly as he cultivated, but Luo Hou's heart grew increasingly still, and he felt more and more helpless. If he continued cultivating this way, when would he ever get the chance to rise? The Three Innate Races were incomparably powerful. How could he possibly devour them all? One careless move, and he would become someone else's meal.
There was also the Heavenly Dao above Heaven and Earth—and that detestable Daoist Xuanhuang. He had no idea whether Xuanhuang had become the Heavenly Dao yet.
A strange aura appeared between Heaven and Earth. In an instant, the entire Primordial World fell silent. A startling scene suddenly appeared in the souls of every living creature. A golden dragon, ten thousand zhang long, roared as it soared through the sky. It had a camel's head, a snake's body, a deer's horns, a tortoise's eyes,