Jin Wuhao opened his eyes.

He blinked blankly, propped himself up, and looked down at his hands.

Those hands were completely unharmed, the divine power flowing freely through their meridians, and the divine essence surging within their dantian.

He touched his neck; it was smooth as ever, without any wounds.

He raised his head again and looked around. He saw golden bloodstains and scattered fragments of magical artifacts on the ground. He saw the seven corpses that had been blown to pieces and thousands of headless corpses lying haphazardly in the valley.

Then, he saw the man in white.

The fragments of the corpse of that disciple of the God of Time, that powerful god who reversed time and space, were scattered in a pool of dark golden blood, their original shapes no longer recognizable.