“There’s one spot left on the list. Who wants it?”
Jiang Ziya stretched lazily and waved the Great Dao Rankings and the Immortal-Slaying Whip in his hand.
“Pick me! I’m a Primordial World quasi-sage with unmatched fighting strength.”
“Pick me! I’m a grandmaster alchemist, and the pills I refine have countless wondrous uses.”
“Pick me! I have three thousand disciples, every one of them stunningly beautiful and famed throughout Honghuang.”
One powerful figure after another, each famous throughout Honghuang, turned into street thugs as they fought for a place on the list, shouting, shoving, and pulling out every dirty trick.
The winner, sporting a bruised and swollen face, laughed uproariously. The powerful figures who had missed their chance clutched their heads and wept.
In the boundless void,
the Heavenly Dao remained silent, Hongjun sat motionless, and the Six Sages stared at one another.
How had the great Investiture of the Gods tribulation turned into a farce?
Very good, very good