Laozi stood, a faint, calculating smile playing across his lips.
Nuwa's move was a masterstroke of unintended consequence for them. By establishing the Yao Race, she had placed herself directly in the path of the Twelve Ancestral Witches, effectively drawing the heat away from the Sanqing. The Witches, prideful and territorial, would likely pivot their hatred toward this new "Queen" of the Myriad Races.
In every sense, it was a development that deserved their formal congratulations.
Yuanshi and Tongtian were quick to mirror their brother's reasoning. They stood in unison, prepared to depart.
"Haha! I suspect the Ancestral Witches are far more anxious than we are," Yuanshi laughed. Despite the threat of a chase, he had no intention of missing the spectacle. "If we cross paths with them on the road, a bloodbath is all but guaranteed."
With that, the three of them vanished from Yujing Mountain, streaking toward the peaks of Mount Buzhou.
They were not alone. From the jagged cliffs of Western Mount Sumeru, the peaceful groves of Wuzhuang Temple, and the frozen heights of West Kunlun, the new Quasi-Saints of the age set out toward the same destination.
Beyond the Thirty-Three Heavens, within the silent expanse of Zixiao Palace, Hongjun felt a tremor in the threads of reality. He stirred from his meditation, his eyes opening to a world that looked... slightly wrong.
Nuwa had established the Yao Race.
In the grand design he had envisioned, the race should have emerged, yes—but under the banner of the Golden Crows. Yet those three remained stubbornly perched upon the Sun Star, showing no sign of descending to claim their crown.
"Has the fate of heaven shifted?"
A flicker of genuine thought crossed the Saint's eyes. At this stage, he had not yet merged with the Dao; the ultimate intent of the Heavens remained a fragmented mosaic to him.
"No matter," he whispered, closing his eyes once more. "The emergence of the Yao makes the conflict with the Wu inevitable. The general trend is irreversible."
He put the anomaly out of his mind. The third sermon was approaching, and with it, his ascension to the Dao. That was the only truth that mattered.
Within the Pangu Temple, the atmosphere was one of primal fury. The Ancestral Witches were vibrating with rage, their physical forms radiating a heat that threatened to melt the stone floor.
"Nuwa is a fool!" the God of Fire roared, his aura scorching the Void Realm. "To think she can weave those ants into a race and call it an equal to our own. She is spitting in the face of our Father God's legacy!"
"Let me go," Qiang Liang hissed, his skin crackling with blue arcs of lightning. "I will descend upon their sect and show them the weight of the earth. What can a thousand ants do against a storm? I will leave nothing but ash."
He turned to leave, but a hand slammed onto his shoulder.
"Wait."
Di Jiang's voice was like a hammer blow. Qiang Liang felt a weight descend upon him as if a Grandmist World had been placed on his back, pinning him to the spot.
"Our race now numbers in the hundreds of millions," Di Jiang said, his voice cold and analytical. "We have a hundred thousand Great Witches. These millennia of war have forged us into a weapon. Nuwa's decision is not an insult—it is a convenience."
He looked around at his siblings, his eyes flashing with a terrifying light. "For years, those demons have been scattered like dust, hiding in the crevices of the world where we could not find them. Now, she has called them all to one place. She has gathered the harvest for us."
"Big Brother is right," Candle Nine Nethers added, his tone indifferent. "Ants are still ants. Whether they are scattered or piled high, they cannot shake the tree of our clan. We strike while they are still celebrating. We catch them in the gap of their own arrogance."
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
The roar of the Ancestral Witches echoed through the temple, their Evil Qi surging until the air was thick with the scent of ozone and blood.
"Gather the tribes," Di Jiang commanded. "We set out now."
The slopes of Mount Buzhou were a sea of activity.
Billions of creatures—from the smallest spirits of the wood to the great winged beasts of the clouds—were converging on the mountain. Nuwa had chosen this sacred site for the Demon Sect's training hall, a move supported by the wisdom of Kunpeng and Bai Ze.
"Congratulations to the Sect Leader!"
The air was thick with the scent of incense and the hum of a thousand voices. Just then, three terrifying auras descended from the sky. The crowd parted as Laozi, Yuanshi, and Tongtian stepped through the void.
The gathered demons whispered in hushed tones. Many had assumed the Sanqing had been beaten into oblivion by the Witches; to see them appear now, high-spirited and radiant, was a shock to the system.
"Fellow Daoists, please, enter."
Fuxi, acting in his capacity as Vice Sect Leader, stepped forward to welcome them personally. Having the Orthodox Lineage of Pangu attend the founding was a massive injection of prestige for the fledgling sect.
The Sanqing did not feign modesty. They swaggered into the inner sanctum, but as they laid eyes on Nuwa, their hearts skipped a beat. She was draped in the shimmering, heavy light of Karma, her aura as vast and unfathomable as a bottomless abyss.
She has gained more from this than we dared to fear, they thought, a cold envy prickling at their skin.
As the pleasantries were traded, a new arrival was announced: the Head of the Male Immortals, East King Duke.
He arrived with an exaggerated air of grandeur. His goal was simple: win over the new powers and tether the Yao Race to his own mandate of 'maintaining order.' If he could manage this massive new entity, his report card to the Saint would be beyond reproach.
"Congratulations, Fellow Daoist Nuwa!" he shouted, his voice booming with a forced, theatrical joy. "Such monumental Karma! A blessing for all living beings under heaven!"
The Sanqing shared a look of pure disdain. The Karma was impressive, yes, but the East King's sycophancy was nauseating.
"You overstate the matter, Fellow Daoist," Nuwa said, her voice indifferent. She saw through his mask instantly; he was a man hunting for a tool, not a friend.
"Fellow Daoist Kunpeng, Fuxi, my congratulations to you as well!" The East King turned his smile toward the Vice Sect Leaders. Fuxi gave a perfunctory nod; Kunpeng didn't even look up from his own thoughts.
Then, the mood shifted. A group of celestial maidens descended from the clouds, led by a woman of breathtaking elegance and a temperament as refined as jade.
The Queen Mother of the West had arrived.
Behind her, her attendants—none lower than the Taiyi Golden Immortal level—presented a tray of exquisite gifts. The gathered beings were stunned. To have both the Head of Male and Female Immortals present was a testament to Nuwa's new standing.
"Congratulations on your founding, Fellow Daoist," the Queen Mother said with a genuine smile.
"Queen Mother, you are far too kind," Nuwa replied, her face breaking into a warm, sincere smile as she stepped forward to welcome her personally.
The contrast was a slap in the face to the East King Duke. His expression darkened, his mind already spinning with new, desperate plots. He saw the Queen Mother winning Nuwa's favor—an alliance of the female heads that could sideline him entirely.
I need to show them, he thought, his eyes darting toward the sky. I need a display of power they cannot ignore.
He looked up at the Sun Star, burning bright in the firmament.
"I have it," he whispered.