"Disciple Emperor Wuyou, pays respects to Master."

In a daze, a tender voice echoed in Withered Wood Taoist's ears. The Dao Wang before him no longer seemed like the supreme ruler of a realm, but rather a young child with pigtails and tattered clothes.

That was two hundred thousand years ago, the moment Withered Wood Taoist accepted Dao Wang as his disciple.

Two hundred thousand years have passed, the world has changed, and everything is different.