Di Jiang spoke with a cold, enigmatic smile. Over these past tens of thousands of years, the twelve of them had finally fully comprehended the supreme Formation bestowed by Father Pangu.
This array was named the Twelve Capital Gods Fiend Formation. It required the Twelve Ancestral Witches to simultaneously stimulate the Pangu Essence Blood within their bodies and gather the world's Evil Qi to condense the physical manifestation of Pangu.
The more intense the world's Evil Qi became, the more terrifying the power of the formation.
At this moment, the slaughter-Qi of the battlefield had reached a state of extreme density—it was the perfect time to manifest the array.
Though they had never utilized it before, Di Jiang held an absolute faith in the formation's invincibility. After all, it summoned the Dharma Body of their Father God; regardless of the opponent, they would be pulverized into dust.
Since the Sanqing wished to witness their secret, he would grant them that sight—and use it to end this war once and for all.
"Hehe. I did not expect that you Witches could actually maintain such patience," Laozi said with a light chuckle after hearing Di Jiang's words.
It was said that the Ancestral Witches were rash by nature, but it appeared that was not entirely the case. They had even learned how to keep a secret.
"Enough talk. If you wish to fight, then fight; if not, then get out of our sight immediately, or you shall live to regret it," Di Jiang rebuked, looking at Laozi with an air of arrogant defiance.
"Di Jiang, since we have come, this must end in a resolution of life and death. The Karma of the past can only be washed away in this manner," Laozi said calmly. His voice was light, yet it carried a terrifying finality.
He had not forgotten the humiliation of their previous two encounters, where he had nearly perished. Such a grudge was beyond reconciliation.
"Excellent! I share the sentiment. There can only be one Orthodox Lineage of Pangu in this world!" Di Jiang roared, his Battle Intent surging to a fever pitch.
While they traded words, the battlefield elsewhere had turned into a slaughterhouse, and Tongtian was nearing a state of total battle-frenzy.
His entire being radiated light like an eternal white celestial furnace, illuminating the heavens with a brilliance that suppressed the world.
The immortal sword in his hand was like a rainbow, carving through the air with beams of light as vast as the Silver River. The sound of his strikes shook the heavens and the earth, appearing to split the firmament and sever the very flow of time.
Facing him was the Ancestral Witch of Time, Candle Nine Nethers. His eyes radiated light as the cycles of time swirled and reversed around him, forcibly intercepting the sword-light and attempting to wither its power within the river of years.
"Tongtian, this strike of yours isn't so impressive after all!" Candle Nine Nethers spoke with a cold indifference, yet his gaze betrayed a hidden tremor of fear.
The current Tongtian wielded the Immortal Slaying Sword—a weapon of peerless sharpness and unrivaled slaughter. For the Witch to even parry a single strike was already a monumental effort.
"Again!" Tongtian snorted coldly. Armed with the Immortal Slaying Sword, he possessed the absolute confidence to cut down any foe.
Clang!
Brilliance filled the universe, as radiant as the Silver River spilling over the world. A majestic sword-light illuminated the era—another peerless, sharp strike descending upon his opponent.
Candle Nine Nethers' face shifted. He grew incredibly solemn as he sensed that this strike was even more horrific than the last. Evil Qi boiled around him as Laws manifested in a dense web; time flowed backward as he committed every ounce of his power to the defense.
With a thunderous crash, the Great Dao Laws bloomed in a dense explosion. Subsequently, the area became blurred and hazy as Chaos Qi billowed—it was as if a new world was being opened within the carnage!
This sword was too sharp, its magic power boundless. The infinite sword-light suppressed the vaults of heaven and illuminated the eight directions; its edge was so exposed that it appeared invincible.
In the end, Candle Nine Nethers was overmatched. His scalp tingled as Tongtian's blade carved through his defenses, his body splitting open with a series of wounds so deep the bone was visible.
Following the defeat of Candle Nine Nethers, Ru Shou was the next to fall. His opponent was Nuwa, currently the most powerful Powerhouse of the Yao Race.
With the Mountains and Rivers Map in one hand and the Red Marriage Globe in the other, Nuwa hammered Ru Shou until he was on the verge of collapse. He was the Ancestral Witch of Metal, possessing the most powerful Physical Body, yet even he struggled to withstand such a concentrated assault.
The scene was starkly different in another sector of the battlefield, where Kunpeng faced off against Xuan Ming. He was being beaten into a pathetic state, his feathers almost entirely plucked away.
Kunpeng had not expected that aside from Di Jiang and Candle Nine Nethers, this female Ancestral Witch would be so terrifyingly powerful.
Though Xuan Ming was ranked second to last among the siblings, her combat power was among the elite; she was in no way inferior to Di Jiang or Candle Nine Nethers.
"You bastards! To humiliate me in such a manner!" Kunpeng's body was drenched in blood, yet he maintained a heroic facade. In the eyes of the other Yao, he was fighting a desperate, valiant struggle for the future of their race.
In reality, his heart was already searching for an exit. While he couldn't defeat Xuan Ming, if he truly decided to flee, he could definitely escape.
However, doing so under the watchful eyes of the entire world felt inappropriate. He felt the timing wasn't quite right.
"If my ninth brother could pluck your feathers, so can I!" Xuan Ming laughed coldly. She looked like a female Devil Head, her Evil Qi blotting out the sky, her combat power peerless.
Her words struck Kunpeng's deepest insecurity. "Hmph! Nonsense! You think you are capable? I shall tear you apart!"
He roared with fury, his eyes sinister, wanting nothing more than to swallow his opponent alive.
Now it seemed everyone wanted a turn at plucking him—it was beyond irrational! When he had been plucked by Candle Nine Nethers, he was only a One-Corpse Quasi-Saint.
He was no longer that man!
Kunpeng charged forward with rage, yet a moment later, a rain of feathers filled the air. In the end, he was plucked once again.
However, thanks to Kunpeng pinning down Xuan Ming, the Yao Race was achieving a near-total victory elsewhere.
Fuxi, Bai Ze, Gui Che, Jiu Ying, and the other Yao titans were swarming the remaining Ancestral Witches, firmly holding the upper hand.
Looking across the entire theater of war, aside from Kunpeng's personal tragedy, the Yao Race was in a state of overwhelming advantage.
Yuanshi, in particular, had beaten the God of Fire and Xi Zi until their blood stained the Void Realm, their Physical Bodies spider-webbed with cracks. He hadn't even exerted his full strength yet.
The world was shaken. The observing great powers were filled with a profound sense of irony. For eons, the Wu Clan had dominated the Yao, yet today the situation had been completely reversed.
"If they lose this battle, the Wu Clan is finished. The Sanqing will never allow them to survive; this concerns the very title of the Orthodox Lineage of Pangu."
"The Yao Race did not strike often, but when they did, it was a masterstroke. They are on the verge of crushing the Witches in a single blow!"
"Karma. I can only call it Karma. The Wu Clan slaughtered wantonly and wounded the harmony of heaven; they offended too many enemies. Sooner or later, this day was destined to arrive—the day of their destruction!"
The living beings watching the war lamented with varying emotions. With the intervention of the Sanqing, the Wu Clan was simply no match for the Yao.
A total defeat was merely a matter of time. Had the Ancestral Witches been more restrained—had they not formed a death-grudge with the Sanqing—this day might never have come.
"Di Jiang, you have lost. You failed to discern the mandate of heaven; you did not understand how to seek the auspicious and avoid the hidden disaster. This is the end of your Wu Clan!" Laozi said calmly, his voice carrying a trace of weary sigh.
"What 'mandate of heaven'? I only know that this world belongs to our Father. We are merely taking back what is ours!"
"Laozi, have you not always wanted to see what our Father granted us?"
"Now, I shall let you witness it for yourself!"
Di Jiang let out a cold laugh and then roared to his siblings across the battlefield:
"Form the Array!"
"Hmm...?" Laozi's expression shifted. He watched as the other eleven Ancestral Witches broke away from their respective fights, each taking up a specific coordinate. They manifested their million-foot-tall true forms and roared in unison.
Instantly!
Twelve pillars of blood-red Evil Qi surged from the bodies of the Twelve Ancestral Witches, converging into a single, unified vortex. The Evil Qi of the entire battlefield was drawn in, instantly surrounding them.
The atmospheric Evil Qi condensed with a manic intensity. The heavens changed color; a chilling, mournful wind rose as the air was filled with the shrieks of ghosts and the wails of gods.
A gargantuan, dark shadow began to slowly solidify—Supreme and vast, a form that defied description.
At a single glance, a mortal's soul would shatter; at a single step, a god would melt into rot!