Of course, the impact he had wrought upon the human world could not be denied. But he had merely created causes, forged certain ties of fate. As for what fruits they would ultimately bear, there were still infinite possibilities.
Otherwise, he could have easily molded the human world into whatever shape he desired. It would have been easy—and utterly meaningless.
That would have been a strangling of possibilities. In a sense, it would have "killed" a civilization.
It was like a cultivator whose entire cultivation had been bestowed through the empowerment of stronger beings, with not a single thing truly their own.
Yet now, what Zhao Cheng saw made him profoundly feel the vigorous vitality of human civilization. Even though a "god" like him had been born among humanity, and that god had also exerted no small influence upon human civilization.
The radiance of human civilization had not weakened in the slightest. Faced with an immense disaster, humanity's upper echelons had not prayed for a god's aid. Instead, they cast aside every illusion, gathered every force they could gather, and faced the ending that had already been decreed.
Though this was related to the fact that the current rulers of the human world were among the strongest people alive, and that the Cosmic Federation, this community of shared destiny for humanity, had been forged by those who had won the world through struggle.
Still, it could not be denied that such a powerful core, such spirit and vitality, was fully worthy of the word civilization!
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
Transport planes roared through the skies. Across the earth, heavy transport trucks flowed like ants, seeming to stretch all the way to the ends of the world.
These vehicles carried either materials or nuclear warheads.
Thanks to the controlled nuclear fusion technology