The Whole Team Was Wiped Out at the Beginning, and I Broke Buzhou Mountain with My Backhand

In ancient times, three tribes lived side by side. The Wu clan inherits the essence and blood of Pangu, and their bodies dominate the mountains and rivers, but they cannot escape the fate of the bloodline declining from generation to generation. The demon clan lives on the top of the pure Qi of Xuan Yao Continent. They are gifted with supernatural powers and unparalleled souls, but as the continent slowly rises into the sky, they slide step by step towards extinction. The human race possesses the aura of purity and neutrality, and can understand the great truth from all things, but they are as weak as ants - they are captured and sacrificed for blood by the witch tribe, and plundered for food by the demon tribe. Deep in the dense forest of the Southern Wilderness, a fifteen-year-old boy crawled out of the cellar. The tribe is gone. My father is gone. He is the only one left in the whole clan of more than thirty people. The only thing left to him by his father was a bone whistle - passed down for countless generations, it never rotted, never broke, and never blew. No one knows what it is. Just know it matters. The demon clan slaughtered his tribe. The Witch Clan used him as a blood sacrifice material. The human race themselves looked down upon this Southern Wasteland orphan. Chen only has one question: Why? Why can humans only be used as cannon fodder? Why are the three tribes fighting for tens of thousands of years, but we are always the ones dying? Later he understood - because Buzhou Mountain is still there. As long as heaven and earth are connected, the war will never stop. So he made a decision that no one dared to make: break it.