Still in the Mortal World

And that was indeed the case. At the Festival of the Gods, before countless eyes, Zhao Cheng had suddenly appeared and killed R Country's legendary figure Tsugikuni Mumei in a few blows. Afterward, he had picked off three Saints in succession.

It was not just R Country. The entire world—many people across it—had once again recalled the terror of being ruled by myth.

Many among the younger generations of various nations, those who did not know much of the old events, cried out over Zhao Cheng's ferocity and dominance. Their hearts trembled—not from fear, but excitement—and they could not help imagining themselves being just as magnificent.

Yet some elderly people merely felt that Zhao Cheng had been very kind. He had only killed four people, after all, and had even given the rest three days' time.

If many young people had heard such thoughts, they would have found them bizarre. He killed people like cutting down grass, and they still thought him kind? Had these old folks truly gone senile?!

In truth, it was merely that his peers had made him look good.

Only those who had lived through that era when myth drew its sword and all living beings were but ants could understand what "the strongest" truly meant.

Such majesty was not earned through flattery. It was forged from endless piles of corpses and bones.

By the standards of myth, Zhao Cheng already counted as a light of the righteous path.

Within Yanhuang, as the news spread, many young people were swept up in surging excitement. When the older generation heard it, they too sighed in a daze, saying that Yanhuang had worthy successors.

In fact, over these past years, with the birth of supreme powerhouses overseas and the growing strength of other nations, a current of anxiety