The report from the Archwitch hung in the air of the Pangu Temple like a spark in a powder keg.
"Bai Ze went to Mount Buzhou?" Qiang Liang growled, his thunderous voice vibrating the very stone. He waved a dismissive hand at the messenger. "What is at that mountain? The Sanqing. Nuwa. Fuxi. That trash Bai Ze must have been kicked off the Sun Star and is now crawling to the 'Orthodox Lineage' for protection."
"The Three Crows and the Three Pure Ones," Gonggong laughed, his voice like the crashing of dark waves. "A pair of oddities. One hides in the fire, the other hides in the clouds."
"Is it possible," Ju Mang mused, "that Bai Ze intends to unite these 'Mighty Beings' into a coalition against us?"
The suggestion was met with immediate, arrogant derision. "Impossible," Zhu Rong sneered. "These gods are too proud to listen to a beast like Bai Ze. And who in the Honghuang is blind enough to think they can stop the Wu?"
Dijiang, sitting at the head of the council, let the laughter fade before he spoke. His voice was a heavy, tectonic rumble. "Regardless of Bai Ze's success, we cannot allow the precedent. The world must learn that even contacting the Myriad Tribes is a death sentence."
"So we strike?" Qiang Liang's eyes lit up with a violent, electric joy. "Should we burn the Sun Star or topple Mount Buzhou?"
"The Sanqing," Xuan Ming said with a cold, beautiful smile. "The Crows stayed in their nest; they have shown fear. But the Three Pure Ones? They still walk the earth with their heads held high. We will strike down their arrogance first."
Candle Nine Nethers nodded. "The Crows are a mystery, but the Sanqing are a known threat. We settle the old scores today."
Dijiang leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "There is a deeper reason. For eons, Laozi, Yuanshi, and Tongtian have used the name of the Orthodox Lineage of Pangu to deceive the world, yet they never offer a single drop of worship to Father God. Their hearts are treacherous."
"Killing them is not just about a title," Dijiang continued, his voice dropping an octave. "They are the Primordial Spirit of Pangu. We are the Physical Body. If we consume them—if we strip them of their Luck—the Wu Clan will finally be complete. We will overcome our innate deficiencies."
The temple went silent. The thought of consuming the very spirit of their creator to achieve perfection sent a thrill of cold, predatory hunger through every Ancestral Witch.
"Then let us go," Dijiang commanded. "We take East Kunlun. We take their lives. We take the Legacy."
The Peace of East Kunlun
While the titans of the earth marched, the Great Hall of the Three Pure Ones on Mount Buzhou was a sanctuary of profound tranquility.
Laozi, Yuanshi, and Tongtian stood in a perfect trinity. Above their heads, three translucent lotuses bloomed, representing the peak of Daluo cultivation.
Laozi held his Shoulder Pole, its flames licking the air with a holy light. Yuanshi gripped the Three-Jeweled Ruyi, encased in a protective apricot-yellow glow. Tongtian leaned on his Qingping Sword, the blade humming with a misty, lethal resonance. These were the three fragments of the Chaos Green Lotus, treasures that mirrored their own shared origin.
Laozi opened his eyes, a calm joy reflecting in his pupils. "My cultivation nears the Perfection of the Grand Unity realm. By the next sermon, the path to the higher heavens will be clear."
"In today's world," Tongtian said, his pride unrestrained, "I doubt there is a single being who could stand before the three of us."
"Indeed," Yuanshi added, his tone dripping with aristocratic disdain. "Think of the rumors—comparing us to those 'Three Crows' from the Sun. To put the Pangu Lineage beside feathered beasts is a joke that has gone on too long."
Laozi nodded slowly. "Our goal is the Saint's throne. The Crows, the Witches... they are merely distractions. One day, they won't even have the right to look upon our shadows."
"The Witches are making a mess of the earth," Yuanshi mused, his Divine Thought sweeping casually over the horizon. "Pitiful creatures. They don't know the Mandate of Heaven. Those who cannot read the sky will eventually be buried by it."
Suddenly, Yuanshi's expression froze. His Divine Thought hit a wall—a wall of twelve surging, blood-red auras moving with the speed of a falling star.
"They're coming," Yuanshi whispered, his arrogance replaced by a sharp, cold realization. "The Twelve Ancestral Witches... they are at the gates."