Central Nan State.
On a scroll floating in midair.
The Evil God was exerting all his strength trying to squeeze his head through.
But with both hands stuck around half of his head, and the small space within the scroll, he was firmly wedged in, finding it difficult to emerge.
He was, however, relieved to see that those ants who dared to laugh at him had been injured by the shockwave.
Mere ants.
They had witnessed his embarrassing situation, mocked him, and even thought they could escape.
If these ants got away,
would he, the Evil God, still have any face left?
Twenty thousand years ago, he, the Evil God, had commanded the winds and clouds.
Who didn't know how much he valued his face?
But now, these ants twenty thousand years later seemed to be quite strong.
Their methods were all quite profound.
The Evil God didn't ponder much, his whole focus was on stretching his head out further.
