After the four left Kunlun, they headed straight for the lands of the Primordial World.
Taishang walked at the front, with Yuanshi and Tongtian side by side behind him.
Xuan Heng trailed the three by half a step, the Profound Pure Immortal Light around him drawn inward, disturbing none of the living beings along the way.
The Primordial World remained vast and boundless. Witch Clan tribes occupied its mountains, rivers, and lands, while the Demon Race's destiny coiled across the heavens. Great demons occasionally patrolled the skies, demon clouds blotting out the sun and sending the creatures of the forests fleeing in every direction.
The Human Race's aura was mixed among those enormous races, so weak it was nearly completely overwhelmed by the destiny of the two clans.
Yet the Human Race's destiny was remarkably tenacious. Along rivers, through forests, and across one stretch of plain after another, it slowly spread outward.
As Xuan Heng looked at those scattered Human Race tribes, something stirred within him.
When Nuwa had created humanity, the Human Race had been nothing more than a group of ignorant newborn creatures by the riverbank.
Now, several thousand years had passed. They had learned to build houses, to use fire, to polish stone tools, to migrate in groups, and to teach later generations the ways of survival their predecessors had painstakingly discovered.
Whether in his previous life or in the Primordial World, the Human Race had always been a people synonymous with miracles.
Not long afterward, the four descended beside a great river.
By the river stood low huts built from mud and branches.
Several young humans were carrying dry firewood. In the distance, women were stripping animal hides, while several able-bodied youths held crude stone axes and followed the elders of their tribe as they learned