Chapter Sixty-Seven: Until the Era That Belongs to Us

Not daring to take a deep breath, Luo Zu immediately drew upon the essence of the lunar star above, replenishing his own body and the avatars stored within his nine cerebral manifestations. Had he done otherwise—panting and sweating in the aftermath of disaster upon the earth—his nine cerebral avatars might have shriveled, his avatars collapsed outright, and even his Yang spirit would have been left weakened for a long time.

This lunar essence was acquired from a master within the pocket world, one who was channeling the vital energies of sun and moon. If Luo Zu were to draw another strand at this moment, he feared suspicion from the celestial demon gods; thereafter, he’d be placed under vigilant surveillance, forced either into submission or condemned by divine retribution.

After calming his tension, Luo Zu first gathered the scattered fragments from the ground into the pocket world, then braved the raging wind and flying stones to rescue those kin buried beneath the collapsed houses. He unleashed healing arts, stabilizing the breath of those trapped under the ruins, then saved them one by one.

By now, the wild wind had abated, making movement far less difficult than before. In the distance, the magical duel grew fiercer; overhead, radiant lights flashed by, stirring the air into a boiling frenzy with relentless roars.

Luo Zu could only stoop to rescue people, rapidly excavating each ruin and freeing the trapped, while other kin joined the rescue effort. Amidst this "ceaseless bombardment," moments of brilliance would pierce the eyes, rendering one blind for a moment; fortunately, everyone was now embarking on cultivation—they were considered quasi-immortals by the demon and shaman tribes. Thus, lacking the memory of fish, even when vision faltered, touch, hearing, and smell guided them to the right direction, enabling the rescue.

Luck was on their side: the aftermath of the magical duel swept across the sky, not raging on the ground. Yet Luo Zu sensed this was even more perilous. Should the residual energy accumulate above, they might suffer a devastating wave next.

Moreover, the magical remnants could descend upon their heads from eight thousand miles away, meaning they hadn't truly escaped danger. Luo Zu felt helpless; they could not flee much further, and even three thousand miles away, the duel’s echoes rippled, proving the vast land was overshadowed by these titans’ battle.

Luo Zu mused upon the countless calamities yet to come—several wars between shamans and demons, unending disasters—how harsh this primordial world was for a small ant like him.

Silently, he cleared another layer of earth and stone, finally rescuing the last kin. Only then did Luo Zu exhale in relief.

Though the path ahead was perilous...

Luo Zu surveyed those present—bewildered, resolute, angry, regretful, helpless, sad, or terrified "cave dwellers."

But we must survive, until the era that belongs to us arrives.

Thunder rumbled! The earth quaked as a curtain of light descended from the heavens, slicing across a hill ten miles from Yanquan Village. The hill shattered, and the light moved onward, cutting through obstacle after obstacle, unstoppable.

Luo Zu could only remain speechless, forced to gamble on luck. If another barrage of deadly fragments struck, he’d have no strength left to resist.

Yet, some hope must be seized by one’s own hands. Luo Zu quickly organized his people—some to care for the wounded, others to help him construct an underground fortress.

Those gifted with earth magic dug tunnels first, then excavated a chamber three hundred meters below, strengthening it. Metal magic aided the reinforcement, wood magic fixed and supported, and other magical talents combined, thus assembling a temporary underground safehouse.

With all working together, the massive project was completed in just ten minutes. The titanic duel overhead had not ended, so Luo Zu hurried everyone below ground.

He instructed them not to stop digging, urging them deeper still. Along the way, they encountered strange worms and beasts, and resentful ghosts and corpses, but Luo Zu led the way, and these threats were swiftly dealt with.

Such grand digging had been done before; the cave in Luo Township was once shallow, but they excavated it bit by bit.

Yet the dangers below ground were unpredictable, perhaps greater than the surface, which was why the "cave dwellers" had not become true troglodytes. Now, forced by necessity, the earth’s resistance and protection were far superior to the forest above.

So Luo Zu made this choice.

Another three hundred meters down, Luo Zu finally let everyone pause. Even six hundred meters wasn’t truly safe, but going deeper risked new hazards, so he had to halt the excavation.

He then sensed the magical duel above.

It had not ceased. Whether the demon immortals were too powerful, or the shaman people lacked skill, the battle raged for an hour without end.

Despite this, Luo Zu could only wait patiently and pray their duel would not drag them into further catastrophe.

The thunder on the surface continued until dawn, then paused briefly; when Luo Zu and his kin thought it was over, fiercer explosions swept overhead.

Everyone trembled, Luo Zu kept his eyes fixed on the dim ceiling.

He had to remain composed; all eyes were upon him. He must stay calm, and his actions would offer spiritual strength to his kin.

He instructed those nearby to care for the others, while his Yang spirit left his body to scout above.

In a flash, he reached the surface and saw devastation everywhere. Fortunately, he had led his kin underground in time; otherwise, the ruins of Yanquan Village would have been their fate.

Every house was destroyed by unknown forces; the ground was scarred with countless ravines, the surrounding forest uprooted, shredded, or compressed into the earth like “bundles”—none escaped.

The storm they endured last night was but an appetizer; the subsequent aftermath was the real ordeal.

Thankfully, the magical remnants only swept the top hundred meters of the surface; otherwise, even hiding six hundred meters underground would have spelled doom. And those ravines carved deep into the earth did not strike the safehouse of the “cave dwellers”—or else the entire clan would have been wiped out, leaving none to host the funeral.

Moreover, the magical duel had not ended; the sky shimmered with flowing light, myriad colors rippling, the spiritual energy of the mountains and rivers thrown into chaos, some qualities lost entirely—no doubt consumed by the titans’ spells.

From the beginning to now, Luo Zu hadn’t known how many shamans or demons were dueling, muddled and confused, suffering greatly.

He wished for some spectacle, but none of these great figures cursed or shouted their names, depriving him—a hapless spectator—of any chance to broaden his horizons.

But soon, he would have such an opportunity.