[Primordial Continent · South of Buzhou Mountains · Houtu Tribe Territory]
The wind here has weight.
It carries ancient sand and gravel; each gust feels like rough sandpaper rubbing against skin. Giant ferns blot out the sky, and the dew dripping from their leaves is enough to stun a fully grown hare.
Seventeen carried Shen Qingqiu on his back, walking through this primeval jungle that seemed magnified a thousand times.
His bare upper body was covered in dark red demonic patterns—the **"Divine Demon Marks"** formed by the fusion of Blood Sea Fiend Qi and Nano Divine Finance. With each step, he left a deep footprint, and the surrounding vegetation withered instantly from the overflowing fiendish energy.
"Seventeen, put me down." Shen Qingqiu lay on his broad back, her fingers gently tracing the grotesque yet alluring pattern on his shoulder blade.
"Your rejection reaction hasn't completely subsided."
"No." Seventeen's voice was deep, metallic, and possessed the predatory instinct of a wild beast.
"The ground is dirty. And… there are bugs." He stomped on a brightly colored scorpion the size of a washbasin, killing it instantly without even glancing down.
In his logic, even in this primordial wilderness teeming with gods and demons, his back was the only "safe haven" in the world.
Just then.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The earth began to tremble rhythmically.
Not an earthquake.
It was footsteps.
From the distant dense forest came a deep, thunderous sound like war drums. A wild, savage, testosterone-fueled aura swept over like a tsunami.
"Something's coming." Seventeen stopped.
He gently placed Shen Qingqiu on the trunk of a huge ancient tree, then turned and stood in front of her.
The right arm, black and red like a star, had five fingers spread wide, from which extended inch-long claws.
"Hahahaha! I told you the smell of blood here was off!"
A booming laugh, like the sound of a great bell, erupted, shaking the leaves.
The jungle was violently torn apart.
A giant emerged.
He was at least three zhang tall (about ten meters), his bare, bronze-colored torso bulging like stacked granite blocks. A tiger-skin skirt encircled his waist, and a necklace made of giant beast skulls hung around his neck.
He carried a bronze axe the size of a door in one hand and a saber-toothed tiger, still dripping blood, in the other.
Most striking were his eyes.
Large as bronze bells, piercing and piercing, burning with the most primal, purest fighting spirit.
He was the Great Shaman of the Witch Clan.
The future God of War—Xing Tian.
"Huh?" Xing Tian stopped, looking down at the "little guy" (Seventeen) before him.
He sniffed.
"Such a strong aura of malevolence! Such hard bones!" Xing Tian tossed aside the tiger in his hand, his eyes gleaming with surprise.
"Which tribe are you from? How come you're so...delicate?"
In the Wu tribe's aesthetic, anyone under three zhang tall was considered "crippled."
But the terrifying aura emanating from Seventeen, originating from the Netherworld Blood Sea, gave Xing Tian a sense of familiarity deep within his bloodline. It was the scent of warriors who had endured the baptism of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Seventeen coldly stared at the giant.
His purple eyes narrowed slightly, and data streams frantically filled the screen.
[Biological Scan: Carbon-based Giant.]
[Energy Level Reaction: Great Luo Golden Immortal Level (Pure Physical Body).]
[Threat Level: Extremely High.]
"Get out of the way." Seventeen didn't answer, only coldly uttering two words.
"Hey! Quite a temper!" Xing Tian chuckled.
The Wu tribe disliked reasoning and loved fighting. Winners were brothers, losers were still brothers.
"I am Xing Tian, the Great Wu of Hou Tu's tribe!"
Xing Tian swung his giant axe, creating a gust of wind.
"Little brother, since you've come to my territory, you must abide by my rules. Take three of my axe blows. If you can, I'll buy you a drink! If you can't, hehe… then I'll take you back as a breeding boar to improve the tribe's offspring!"
Seventeen's eyes instantly turned icy cold.
"Breed boar?"
This was probably the most insulting term this strongest weapon in the galaxy had ever heard.
"You're courting death."
Seventeen moved.
He didn't grow larger, nor did he dodge.
The moment Xing Tian's giant axe, powerful enough to split mountains, came crashing down, he met the attack head-on.
Boom!
There was no scene of flying flesh and blood as expected.
Seventeen's tiny right hand actually steadily caught the massive axe blade.
A visible shockwave erupted from the point of contact, instantly snapping trees within a hundred meters in half.
"Huh?!" Xing Tian's eyes widened.
He felt as if his axe had struck an unshakeable mountain. That small body actually contained power capable of contending with a Great Witch!
"Not bad strength," Seventeen commented calmly.
But he wasn't using brute force.
[Nano Field · Vector Deflection.]
[Tai Chi · Using Four Ounces to Deflect a Thousand Pounds (Physics Version.]] Seventeen's wrist flicked with an extremely strange motion.
A skillful force traveled along the axe handle.
Xing Tian felt an irresistible force pulling him, turning his downward chop into a sideways slide.
The immense inertia caused him to lose his balance.
"Go!" Seventeen seized Xing Tian's wrist, using his momentum against him, executing an over-the-shoulder throw (despite the size difference, the fulcrum was perfectly chosen).
BOOM—!! !
The earth trembled violently.
A ten-meter-tall giant was slammed into the mud by Seventeen, who was less than two meters tall.
A human-shaped crater several meters deep was created.
Dust billowed.
The witch warriors who had been observing from the shadows were utterly stunned, their jaws dropping to the ground.
The strongest witch in their tribe, Xing Tian… had been overturned by a "little chick"?
"That was satisfying! So satisfying!" Xing Tian's maniacal laughter echoed from the bottom of the crater.
He jumped out as if nothing had happened, dusted himself off, and looked at Seventeen with no longer disdain, but fervent admiration.
"Impressive skills! No magic, just pure physical prowess!" Xing Tian strode over, extended his enormous hand, and slapped Seventeen's shoulder hard (almost burying him in the ground).
"Brother! You may be a bit small, but that energy...it's definitely one of our Witch Clan!"
"Which tribe are you from, wandering off from? That murderous aura is almost as fierce as that old ghost from the Styx River!"
Seventeen frowned, subtly releasing the immense weight on his shoulder.
He was about to explain that he wasn't from the Witch Clan.
"Ahem." A soft cough came from the tree.
Shen Qingqiu, leaning against the tree trunk, gracefully stood up.
Her tattered purple dress fluttered in the wind. Although her face was pale, devoid of any magical power, the **"light of civilization"** flowing in her golden eyes instilled a strange awe in all the Witch Clan members present.
It was the instinctive submission of savagery to wisdom.
"This Great Witch." Shen Qingqiu opened her tattered lace folding fan, covering her lips with a soft laugh.
"My husband… grew up by the Blood Sea and is unfamiliar with etiquette; please forgive his ignorance."
"Husband?" Xing Tian scratched his large head, looked at Seventeen, then at Shen Qingqiu.
"Oh! I understand!"
He slapped his thigh.
"You're his priest, aren't you?"
In the Witch Clan, only the most powerful Great Witch is assigned a dedicated "priest" responsible for communicating with heaven and earth, praying for blessings, and divination. Priests are usually physically weak but exceptionally intelligent and hold extremely high status.
"Priest?" Shen Qingqiu paused for a moment, then nodded readily.
"I suppose so." After all, she was responsible for the brains, and Seventeen for the actions; this setup was practically "Great Witch + Priest."
"Hahahaha! That's even better!" Xing Tian waved his hand.
"Come on! Come back to the tribe with me! We must drink tonight! No one leaves until we're drunk!"
…Houtu Tribe · Stone Village.
This is a primitive fortress built from massive stones.
There were no ornate carvings or painted beams, only rugged, grand, and powerful totem poles.
Hundreds of bonfires burned in the square, the aroma of roasted meat filling the air.
Seventeen and Shen Qingqiu were treated as honored guests.
Although Seventeen's size appeared somewhat "petite" among these giants, no one dared to underestimate him.
After all, he was a formidable figure capable of throwing the Great Shaman Xing Tian to the ground.
"Come! Drink!" Xing Tian held up a stone vat large enough to fit Shen Qingqiu inside, filled with a murky yet potent **"Hundred Fruit Brew"**.
"This is brewed by our tribe ourselves; it strengthens bones and invigorates the blood!" Seventeen looked at the murky liquid; data analysis showed an alcohol concentration as high as 75%, and it contained various unidentified microorganisms.
He looked somewhat disgusted.
"What? You look down on me?" Xing Tian glared.
Shen Qingqiu lightly kicked Seventeen under the table (actually a large rock).
"Drink." She whispered, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Besides, this wine contains spiritual fruit ingredients, which will benefit your body's recovery." Seventeen sighed.
He picked up the slightly smaller stone bowl in front of him (still about the size of a washbasin) and drank it all in one gulp.
Boom!
The strong liquor went down his throat like a fiery dragon burrowing into his stomach.
A flush instantly rose to Seventeen's face.
That long-lost, carbon-based intoxication made his previously cold eyes become hazy.
"Good! That's refreshing!" Xing Tian laughed, refilling Seventeen's bowl.
That night, bonfires blazed across the plains.
The men of the Wu tribe danced wild war dances, while the women beat animal-hide drums.
That most primal, most intense vitality bloomed wildly on this desolate land.
Shen Qingqiu sat beside Seventeen.
She didn't drink, but simply watched quietly.
Watching that cold, calculating weapon now surrounded by a group of burly men, being forced to drink, a helpless yet not repulsed smile on his face, she suddenly felt that this Seventeen was very real.
Very…human.
"Sister." A tall, dark-skinned witch girl approached. She was the tribe's weaver, holding a piece of freshly roasted dinosaur meat.
"Your man is so handsome." The girl stared intently at Seventeen's muscular upper body and alluring magical markings, her admiration undisguised.
"Can I have a child with him?"
Pfft— Shen Qingqiu almost spat out the water she had just drunk.
The customs of the prehistoric people are indeed…simple and honest.
Before Shen Qingqiu could speak,
Seventeen, already half-drunk, suddenly reached out and pulled Shen Qingqiu into his arms.
His movements were domineering and forceful, carrying an unprecedented aggressiveness.
He raised his hazy purple eyes, looking at the witch girl, then sweeping his gaze over the restless eyes around him.
"No." Seventeen's voice was hoarse, thick with the effects of alcohol.
He pointed to Shen Qingqiu in his arms, then to his own heart.
"She's a priestess."
"And...destiny."
"My life can only be hers."
"Anyone who dares to take it, I'll...kill them."
*Buzz—* The demonic runes on his black and red demonic arm suddenly lit up.
A terrifying aura erupted, instantly suppressing the surrounding flames.
The entire arena fell silent.
Then, an even louder cheer erupted.
"Good! What a man!" Xing Tian slammed his fist on the table, laughing. "He's possessive! I love it!"
The witch girl wasn't angry; instead, she looked at Shen Qingqiu with envy.
"Girl, you're so lucky. Such a strong male, and he only recognizes you." Shen Qingqiu leaned against Seventeen, listening to his thunderous heartbeat.
Her cheeks were flushed red by the campfire.
Was she lucky?
Perhaps.
She had traversed ninety-nine reincarnations, crossed billions of light-years of starry rivers.
Finally, in this barbaric era before even writing existed, she heard his most direct words of love.
"Seventeen."
She reached out, her fingertips dabbing at the strong liquor, and gently smeared it on his burning lips.
"This liquor is for the gods and demons."
"And for...our new life."
Night deepened.
The enormous moon hung atop Mount Buzhou, casting a silvery glow upon the ground.
Seventeen collapsed drunkenly onto Shen Qingqiu's lap.
Shen Qingqiu gently stroked his long hair, gazing at the distant figure of Xing Tian, the God of War, representing strength and indomitable spirit, sharpening his axe under the moonlight.
Meeting Xing Tian, drink strong liquor.
Gods and demons are not of this kind; I forge them myself.
That night, the primordial world was no longer a cold textbook, but a vibrant, flesh-and-blood...ink-splashed painting.