Angel Race

The old man asked, "The Holy Son has never suffered a defeat. Though only his avatar was defeated this time, could it affect him?"

The Golden-robed Middle-aged Man glanced at the old man. "Old Mo, your concern has clouded your judgment!"

He continued, "If one of the greatest Heavenly Prodigies in the Myriad Worlds can't even withstand a defeat like this, then his future achievements will be severely limited. His talent will have gone to waste."

To become a mighty, towering powerhouse, talent was indeed essential, but one's state of mind mattered just as much.

Defeat itself wasn't frightening!

What was frightening was not daring to face it afterward!

A trace of shame crossed Old Mo's face. "This old servant was foolish. The Holy Son possesses peerless talent and a strong mind. He certainly isn't the sort to let something like this shake him."

The Golden-robed Middle-aged Man nodded. "Enough about the Holy Son for now. Are the major races—the Elf Race, Dwarf Race, and Giant Race—ready?"

Old Mo replied, "The first batch of Heavenly Prodigies from those races, who will be going to the lower realm to gain experience, are all prepared. They'll arrive before long."

The Golden-robed Middle-aged Man nodded. "Good."

Old Mo hesitated for a moment, then ventured, "Clan Leader, that universe called Primordial seems to have a special weapon. Three thousand Great Emperors went to provide support just now, but in a mere few breaths, fewer than three hundred survived. Its power is terrifying."

A trace of surprise flashed in the Golden-robed Middle-aged Man's eyes. "What kind of special weapon?"

Old Mo waved his hand, conjuring a screen of light. A peculiar weapon appeared on it, shaped exactly like the Silver Cannon.

It was based on the report submitted by the cultivators who had managed to