On the Sun Star, the solar winds hissed, but they could not drown out the sheer pressure radiating from the world below.
"The Twelve Ancestral Witches are all on the move? What in the world are they planning?"
Ling Xiao had only just emerged from his meditative seclusion when he felt it—a colossal, suffocating pressure. The combined aura of the Twelve Ancestral Witches rose from the Primordial Great Earth like twelve pillars of black smoke, piercing through the Nine Heavens and even casting a shadow over the brilliance of the Sun Star.
Across the eastern lands, billions of souls trembled. The apocalypse had arrived, or so it felt. The Ancestral Witches moved like Chaos Demon Gods reborn, their forms so massive that mountains seemed like pebbles beneath their stride.
Ling Xiao stood at the edge of the solar palace, gazing down at the twelve titans. He had to admit, the legends hadn't done justice to how grotesque they were. Their appearances alone were enough to wither the spirit of a lesser opponent.
His gaze lingered on one in particular: a being with a human torso and a serpent's tail. Seven arms protruded from her back like a fan of bone and muscle, while two more hands on her chest clutched writhing, golden serpents. Ferocity dripped from her every movement.
That... must be Hou Tu, Ling Xiao thought, his lip curling in a mix of fascination and horror.
He couldn't help but chuckle dryly. The web novels from his previous life were full of lies, painting Hou Tu as a peerless, gentle beauty. Seeing her now, she looked more likely to cause permanent trauma than inspire a poem. Perhaps she has a 'human' form she keeps for special occasions? He shook the thought away.
He watched them converge on Mount Buzhou. There were only two prizes on that mountain: the Three Pure Ones and the siblings Nuwa and Fuxi.
"Are they really going to pick a fight with them?"
Ling Xiao mused over the divergence. In the original "script," Di Jun and Tai Yi should have been the ones clashing with the Witch Clan right about now. But his brothers had traded their dreams of conquest for the quiet pursuit of immortality. Ever since his "brainwashing" session, the two Golden Crows had become even more obsessed with cultivation than he was.
As long as the Witches didn't bring their ugliness to the Sun Star, Ling Xiao decided it wasn't his problem.
At the mid-point of Mount Buzhou, the atmosphere had turned crystalline with tension.
Laozi, Yuanshi, and Tongtian stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their faces grim. Twelve silhouettes, wreathed in thick, suffocating Baleful Qi, had already breached their perimeter.
"Why are they here?" Laozi murmured, exchanging a glance with Yuanshi. They had only just been mocking the "brutes," and now the brutes were at the door. Had their words somehow echoed through the karma of the world?
"They haven't come for the scenery," Laozi added, his voice hardening.
Before they could deliberate further, a voice like a mountain collapsing shattered the silence.
"Three Pure Ones! Get out here and face us!"
Qiang Liang, the Ancestral Witch of Thunder, roared. The sky instantly bruised purple; clouds swirled into a violent vortex as heavenly lightning coiled around his massive frame.
The Three Pure Ones stepped out of their hall, their expressions masked in frosty dignity.
"Fellow Daoists," Laozi began, his gaze fixing on Di Jiang. "You arrive with such aggression. May we ask the reason for this intrusion?"
"Business," Di Jiang replied. His voice was not a shout, yet it vibrated like a divine drum, the sound waves rolling out for hundreds of millions of miles. It was a declaration to the entire world: This is our domain. Do not interfere. "I will ask you once. Have you made private contact with the traitor, Bai Ze?"
"Bai Ze?"
The brothers looked at one another, genuine confusion flickering in their eyes.
"Fellow Daoist Di Jiang, I do not follow," Laozi said calmly. "We have been in seclusion. We have seen no such person."
"Lies!" Candle Nine Nethers spat, his eyes gleaming with temporal light. "Countless spirits saw Bai Ze enter Mount Buzhou. Do you take us for fools?"
Laozi maintained his composure, though his patience was fraying. "Mount Buzhou is vast beyond measure. Even if he is here, why must he be with us?"
"I'm not interested in your logic!" Di Jiang waved a hand dismissively, a cold sneer forming. "Three shameless cowards, still spinning tales. I have decided Bai Ze is here. To harbor our enemies is to declare yourselves enemies of the Witch Clan. Today, there will be a reckoning."
The Three Pure Ones finally saw the truth: the Witches didn't want Bai Ze. They wanted a fight.
"Twelve Ancestral Witches!" Yuanshi shouted, his pride finally snapping. "Do you truly believe we fear your posturing?"
"If you don't fear us, then prepare to return to the earth!" Gonggong stepped forward, the ground groaning beneath his weight. His shadow grew so long it eclipsed the sun, forcing the Pure Ones to look up into a face of pure, primordial violence.
"Second Brother, stay your hand," Laozi whispered, trying to anchor the situation. He knew the math. One-on-one, they were superior. But twelve-against-three? In all the Great Desolation, perhaps only the Dao Ancestor could survive such odds.
"Di Jiang," Laozi said, his voice level. "Speak plainly. What is it you actually want?"
"You Three Pure Ones have paraded the title of 'Pangu's Orthodox Lineage' for long enough," Di Jiang said, his eyes narrowing. "You use Father God's prestige to deceive the world, yet you offer Him no worship. We are here to settle the score. There can be only one true lineage."
Laozi's eyes flashed. "Your words are flawed, Di Jiang. We were formed from Pangu's Primordial Spirit. We are the essence of his soul. That is an immutable truth of the Heavens."
"Are you saying Father God's physical body is not Pangu?" Zhurong roared, his Baleful Qi erupting in a pillar of flame. "You look down on us!"
"Enough!" Tongtian's Qingping sword hummed with a lethal, high-pitched ring as he stepped forward. "A group of pathetic creatures, innately incomplete and ignorant of the Mandate of Heaven... and you covet our title? Are you even worthy?"
"Worthy?" Yuanshi added, his eyes full of icy disdain. "You possess no true Spirit. You are biological accidents who cannot even grasp the Dao. To even mention Father God's name in our presence is an insult."
The insult hit like a physical blow. The Ancestral Witches prided themselves on their bloodline; to be called "incomplete accidents" was the ultimate sacrilege.
"Bastards! I will tear the souls from your bodies!"
In an instant, the air vanished. The Twelve Ancestral Witches moved as one, a hurricane of shadow and bone, encircling the Three Pure Ones in a cage of divine fury.