Xu Changqing watched this absurd scene and remained silent for a long time.
He suddenly understood Zhang Daoxuan a little better.
In this era.
Even if mortals knelt before divine statues until they smashed their heads bloody, they could not obtain a single drop of rain.
If they ate poisonous grass by mistake, they could only wait to die. If they were carried off by the Devil Race, they could only resign themselves to fate.
The gods did not care about them, and the devils would not spare them.
They lived like pigs and dogs.
This was the current state of the Human Race.
Yet humans were the spirit of all things; they should not have held such a position!
Xu Changqing did not disturb anyone and quietly left the wooden hut.
He was no longer confused about why he had crossed into this era.
Instead, he wanted to see with his own eyes how Zhang Daoxuan had become a Great Dao Venerable, step by step.
Afterward, Xu Changqing followed the wild path beyond the tribe and walked forward for a while.
Before long, he came to a hillside and stopped to gaze into the distance.
Ahead lay an endless primordial plain.
The sky hung low, pressing down so close it seemed within reach.
The clouds were not white, but tinged with a murky lead-gray.
They looked as though something had stirred them up, so heavy that they might collapse at any moment.
The plain was not empty.
Giant ferns rose from the ground, every leaf half a person tall.
Their edges were lined with serrated thorns, swaying slowly in the wind like some breathing living creature.
Farther away, an unknown giant tree stood alone in the middle of the plain.
Its crown blotted out half the sky.
Its branches