On the shores of the Wei River, it's early spring in the Bingwu Year (Year of the Horse) where the frost has not faded. A young woodcutter named Zhou Qiao walked down Fenxi Cliff carrying newly cut firewood. He didn't know that the silent fishing by the Wei River three days ago had already tied up Zhou Zuo for eight hundred years; he didn't even know that the bundle of green wood on his back that exuded the fresh air of absinthe would be forged into the first handle of the "God Whip".
This is the third Jiazi before the launch of the Conferred Gods List. I, Zhou Qiao, will use these calloused hands to open a path to the sky for mortals in the gap between the gods.
I hope this story is the first ax to build a mountain.
