In the Primordial World, I Cultivate the Chaotic Ancient Way

Wu Hao felt like his name was cursed to clash with the Desolate Heavenly Emperor.

He worked himself to death and transmigrated, only to run straight into the Desolate Heavenly Emperor at the moment he was about to sever eternity. One sword cleaved Wu Hao in two, sending half his body and soul, along with half of his System, tumbling out of the world.

The good news was that this half of his body and soul, together with the other half of his System, transmigrated to the Primordial World. By a fluke, he became the lowest of the low there: the first acquired human.

The war between the Liches had passed into history, and all living beings were celebrating Nuwa’s merits in repairing the heavens. Yet nine-tenths of the shrines to Nuwa among humanity were gone.

That year, Suiren stood tall upon the earth, Fuxi’s legend had yet to begin, and Wu Hao arrived in the world completely naked.

The sages said humanity’s rise was ordained by Heaven, inevitable, and bound by cause and effect.

Wu Hao knew that was wrong, because the will of Humanity itself had told him so. He was the first acquired human, with the purest origins of them all.

Heaven ranked first, Earth second, immortals third, demons fourth, the Witches fifth, devils sixth, gods seventh, ghosts eighth, and humans ninth. The unorthodox and lesser paths were beyond counting.

So humanity couldn’t rely on anyone. It could only rely on itself.