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Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God

Earth has undergone an odd change. Expanding by millions of times its original size, its population was suddenly split into two halves. On one side, there was a group of technologically advanced humans. But, on the other, a world of cultivation had grown and pospered. The secrets that led to this change have been hidden in the darkness for too long... Until there came a day where a boy born on the Mortal side of the world was found to have the talent to enter the Martial side. Having lost both of his parents to a hidden tide, he chose to leave all that he had known behind and enter this land of danger. What truths would he unveil? What would he learn about what separated the Mortals from the Cultivators? What hidden evils wanted to ensure that his people never rose up and gained power? And how would those evils... deal with him? ---- This list of things I hate is quite long. The first is that I hate to be tested the most. The second is that I hate to be tested the most. The third also happens to be that I hate to be tested the most. The ocean's depths are too shallow, the sun's light too dim, the ground too mundane and the skies too small. For those born of this colorless world to deem themselves worthy of casting judgement on me... I can only say that it's laughable. I am the Nameless Immortal God because even the Heavens themselves are unworthy to name me. Even while I am unaware of my own identity, I will dry the oceans until cracked land is all that is left, I will cast the sun into endless darkness, I will shatter the ground with my feet and sunder the skies with my blade. Am I too arrogant? What right do you have to think that? --- https://discord.gg/awespec

Awespec · Action
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2334 Chs

Guantlet

What had happened just now was so inconceivable that many couldn't even react this time.

This place was a bazaar of alchemists, and also had great centers for entertainment and competition. However, it had always been a place of exceptional quiet. Even when conversing amongst themselves, friends and even rivals would either lower their voices should they be okay with others hearing their words, or make use of sound barriers so as not to disturb others.

This was a high-class society of alchemists. Those who could set foot here were already the cream of the cream of the crop. All they cared about aside from their crowd was their elegant demeanor and their face.

When had they ever seen such a scene? A man so brazenly yelling at the top of his lungs, all while standing before the most sacred Steles of their Pill Sword Mountain, at that. It was simply inconceivable.