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Two thousand years, time as sharp as a sword, annihilated the Heavenly Proud Children of the human world.
The ancient melody reversed the cycles of reincarnation and returned once more to this heaven and earth.
At this moment, Zhou Dao's complexion changed drastically, a strong sense of unease rising in his heart.
Where his gaze landed, the towering mound of black soil gradually broke apart, a silhouette both familiar and strange stepped forth.
Wang Tong, his appearance unchanged, his demeanor tranquil and mild, no longer carrying the once exclusive demeanor of heaven and earth, nor the brilliant essence of being born with Taoist bones, fusing a myriad of laws.
He stood there, as if merging with the Green Mountain behind him, his profound eyes revealing a vicissitude and antiquity entirely at odds with his age.
Wang Tong's gaze swept over Enlightenment Mountain, skimming over every person's face.