The Primordial World was no longer peaceful. Its living beings knew that a great crisis was looming over Heaven and Earth. It was an instinctive warning.
Despair—utter helplessness, especially among the weak.
They had been given a chance to survive, but only at a great cost. At the very least, they had to leave the homeland where they had grown up. Some hesitated, some were delighted, some grieved, and some felt lost.
Many famous mountains, great lakes, immortal abodes, and celestial grottoes were lifted up by boundless divine abilities. They broke away from the Primordial Continent, wrapped in rosy clouds, and drifted toward the depths of Heaven and Earth. The living beings of the Primordial World watched in fear and reverence, worshipping them as they would the heavens.
Many powerful cultivators chose to flee the impending calamity. They knew that a newly created world existed in the Chaos, where they could cultivate and their races could multiply.
There were countless living beings in the Primordial World. Though there were many powerful cultivators, they were pitifully few compared with the vast number of beings. Still, many were willing to take some of the others along. For the weak, this was a blessing.
Fuxi, Zhen Yuanzi, and Nuwa traveled throughout the Primordial World every day, persuading its powerful cultivators.
Kun Peng, Zhunti, and Jieyin rode auspicious clouds across the Primordial World each day, guiding its living beings to safety.
Every word of advice they offered carried immense blessings from Heaven and Earth.
Every drift of immortal clouds and flash of rosy light carried the hopes of the living beings of the Primordial World.
The powerful cultivators knew how terrible this calamity would be. The existence of a new world calmed their panicked hearts, and with the shackles lifted from their minds, their