The moment Di Jiang's words left his lips, the gathered Ancestral Witches were left in a state of bewilderment.
The proposal was so sudden that they found themselves momentarily unable to process it.
"We shall sacrifice to our Father God and pray for his blessing. If the Heavenly Dao can grant Karma to the Yao Race, I believe our Father God will likewise bestow his providence upon the Wu Clan!"
Di Jiang spoke in a deep, heavy voice, his face etched with a profound seriousness and solemnity—there was even a trace of a fanatical glint in his eyes.
"Excellent! Sacrificing to our Father God is exactly what we ought to be doing!"
"Move, move! There is no time to lose—we go now!"
The other Ancestral Witches immediately voiced their support. On this particular matter, there would never be a shred of disagreement; they held an absolute, unified devotion.
"Where exactly should we hold this sacrifice? The entire Great Desolation was transformed from our Father God's body," Qiang Liang asked, his tone one of genuine confusion.
"Idiot. Mount Buzhou, of course. Mount Buzhou was transformed from Father God's spine; it is the ultimate symbol of his unyielding will."
"Furthermore, it sits right at our doorstep. It is the most convenient place for the ritual!" Xuan Ming snapped immediately.
At her words, the other Ancestral Witches nodded in agreement, casting strange, sideways looks at Qiang Liang as if he were the only one among them who didn't understand the obvious.
"What is with those looks? I was merely asking a question. Is that not allowed?" Qiang Liang muttered, his voice defensive but lacking conviction.
Di Jiang looked over his siblings and issued his command: "Gather every member of every tribe! We march to Mount Buzhou to sacrifice to our Father God as one!"
"As you command, Big Brother!" the remaining eleven Ancestral Witches shouted in unison.
Immediately, the Ancestral Witches departed from Pangu Temple and returned to their respective territories to summon their kin.
Currently, the tribes of the Twelve Ancestral Witches were all settled around the base of Mount Buzhou, clustered tightly around the sacred peak.
Before long, tens of millions of Witches—led by the Twelve Ancestral Witches—began a grand, majestic migration toward Mount Buzhou.
Following directly behind the Twelve Ancestral Witches were the elite Great Witches of each tribe. These individuals had distinguished themselves in the constant warfare of the past tens of thousands of years; their prestige within the Wu Clan was second only to the Ancestral Witches themselves.
Great Witches such as Chi You, Xing Tian, Yi, Kua Fu, and Jiu Feng had already reached the Realm of Grand Unity Golden Immortal. Their combat prowess was peerless; in the great war against the Yao, they had been invincible, slaughtering countless enemies.
The grand procession caused the very earth to tremble. As countless Witches gathered together, their collective Aura became a vast, billowing tide that tore through the Void Realm. For millions of miles, the sky was swept clean of clouds, entirely blanketed by their thick, malevolent Evil Qi.
The gargantuan forms of the Twelve Ancestral Witches shook the rivers and mountains as they moved. Their Evil Qi danced in the air like True Dragons taking flight.
Among the Ancestral Witches, Houtu noticed that Gonggong's expression remained dark and irritable—he clearly hadn't moved past the earlier confrontation. She stepped up beside him to offer counsel.
"Brother, are you still dwelling on the matter from before?"
She felt it was necessary to speak with Gonggong; if he allowed these feelings to fester in his heart, it would eventually drive a wedge between the siblings.
"Of course I am!" Gonggong spoke bluntly, making no effort to hide his feelings. He admitted it with a refreshing, if angry, honesty.
He was the Ancestral Witch of Water, yet his temperament was as volatile as a raging fire.
Houtu offered a helpless smile and explained, "Brother, Zhu Rong spoke as he did for your own sake. Do not take it to heart."
"Sister, you do not need to defend him. 'For my sake'? He spoke as he did simply because he enjoys seeing me miserable!" Gonggong replied coldly.
"It is not like that. I understand your desire for revenge, but now is simply not the right time. Perhaps you do not know this, but during the time you were asleep, several things happened that would defy your expectations."
"Take the Three Crows of the Sun Star, for example. Do you know that the Ling Xiao who defeated you all that day... was merely a Clone? Even though our strength has surged since then, it is still not the proper moment for vengeance."
"Furthermore, just recently, the Yao Race established the Demon Script, causing their collective Luck and strength to increase significantly. If we were to act rashly against the Golden Crows now, it might grant the Yao Race the opportunity they need to strike at us from behind!"
Houtu explained with patience, hoping to prevent Gonggong from harboring a lasting grudge.
"What? A Clone? The one who dismantled us at the Three Immortals Island was only one of Ling Xiao's Clones?"
Gonggong was physically startled. Hearing the news, he felt a sudden chill crawl up his scalp. If a mere Clone could be that ferocious, how terrifying must the True Body be?
At this realization, he began to understand why no one had responded to his call to "tear the Crows apart."
Under normal circumstances, his brothers would have been shouting in agreement and charging alongside him.
No wonder they are being so 'steady' lately!
Thinking of it this way, he realized that revenge would not be as simple as he had imagined.
"Big Brother's intent is to first defeat the Yao Race and bolster our own cultivation before we deal with the Three Crows. This is the most prudent path," Houtu added.
Gonggong finally understood. The memories that had been hazy after his tens of thousands of years of slumber began to snap into focus. He finally grasped the current state of the world's board.
However, understanding the logic was one thing; Zhu Rong's earlier attitude still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Gonggong said nothing more, burying that small seed of resentment in the depths of his heart.
Soon, the Twelve Ancestral Witches led their tribes to the base of Mount Buzhou.
Gazing up at the majestic, sky-piercing pillar of the mountain, Di Jiang raised his voice, his Dao-sound echoing across every direction.
"Father God above! Today, I, Di Jiang, lead the descendants of your own Bloodline to offer our sacrifice and worship!"
As the words fell, the other eleven Ancestral Witches shouted in unison. Then, tens of millions of Witches prostrated themselves before the mountain formed from Pangu's spine.
They did not bow to the Heavenly Dao. They did not bow to the Saints. They revered only Pangu.
Next, the Great Witches presented the sacrifices: the corpses of powerful Yao Race beasts and gargantuan monsters ten thousand feet in length were arrayed before Mount Buzhou. Hundreds of millions of Witches chanted in an ancient, guttural language, conducting a mysterious and primal ritual.
With Mount Buzhou as the epicenter, the gargantuan disturbance rippled across the heavens and the eight directions of the earth. It swept across the boundless lands and echoed through the vast, deep void of space.
For a time, the many great powers of the eastern Honghuang were drawn to this massive spectacle. When they saw the actions of the Wu Clan, some could not help but let out a laugh of mockery.
"Is the Wu Clan attempting to imitate the Yao Race? The Yao Race established the Demon Script and reaped the reward of Heavenly Dao Karma; now the Wu Clan begins to worship Pangu in an attempt to secure his protection?"
"The Yao Race's reward of Karma must have placed an immense pressure on the Witches, prompting them to turn to Pangu. After all, in the eyes of the Ancestral Witches, Pangu stands above all else—he is their true Heaven!"
The Sun Star.
Ling Xiao had concluded his absorption of the Law of Wood fragment not long ago. He was alerted by the massive disturbance caused by the Wu Clan.
Seeing the countless Witches worshipping and sacrificing to Mount Buzhou, a sharp glint flashed in Ling Xiao's eyes, as bright as falling stars.
After Pangu created the world, his death transformed his body into the Great Desolation. Theoretically, while he was dead, he was not entirely dead; he had simply transitioned to a different form of existence.
Mount Buzhou was his spine—the most vital of all remnants. Ling Xiao wondered if this massive sacrifice by the Witches might trigger some kind of anomalous reaction.
After all, the Wu Clan's devotion to Pangu was peerless in all the world. Their ritual might actually be capable of invoking a trace of Pangu's formless protection.
Ling Xiao watched the sacrificial proceedings with a look of genuine interest.
Soon, the Wu Clan's ritual drew toward its conclusion.
At that exact moment, a desolate, ancient Aura began to seep out from Mount Buzhou. It was incredibly vast—an aura of supreme, primordial magnitude.