Tang Meng was stunned.
Her mind was in chaos, and she couldn't help but say, "Big brother, I feel like I'm going to die. The success rate is unimaginably low... How could they possibly let me, this Golden Behemoth, become a Fourth Realm Primordial God?"
To become a "Primordial God" of a race, there must be over hundreds of millions of cultivators and over ten thousand Grandmasters, and their aura must converge onto oneself. The soul must transform with divine vigor to possibly break through.
But why would anyone give such vast resources to you, raising a tiger to bring calamity?
Tang Meng: "It's impossible."
She's with swords of the past: "Little girl, it's impossible yet you must try! Do we still have a chance? You don't know how dire the situation is now!"
"Currently, it's just the initial outbreak. Do you think, with the reproduction speed of cockroaches and rats, at that terrifying speed, we'll be able to survive in the future?"
