Fu Xi bowed to the sky with gratitude, saying, "Thank you, elder, for your support!"
Then, Fu Xi turned to look at the unconscious Yang Yan and said gently, "It's over. We shall return now."
In the blink of an eye, more than half a year had passed.
By this time, those who had entered the Ancient Battlefield had long since emerged.
Originally numbering over eight thousand, now fewer than three thousand remained.
The rest of the monks had either perished in the Ancient Battlefield or had become mindless puppets of slaughter.
Fu Xi, in the Secret Realm, slowly calculated the future's celestial secrets, and suddenly his complexion changed.
With a flip of his palm, a primitive turtle shell with a historical aura appeared in his hand.
Various golden inscriptions were engraved upon it, Spiritual Qi surged, faintly revealing grand Daoist Laws.
A moment later, Fu Xi solemnly gazed beyond Earth.
