Mutual Destruction, The Three Ancestors' Regret!

Hongjun saw that everyone had arrived, so he stood and said, "Let's go. Come meet a few old friends with your teacher."

He raised his hand and waved, and a pale golden light curtain enveloped the group. The next moment, they appeared in a mysterious chaotic space.

This space had no distinction between heaven and earth, only gray Chaos Airflow drifting slowly.

In the center of the space, three old men sat cross-legged—none other than Yang Mei, Yin Yang, and Qiankun.

"A few old friends, sorry to keep you waiting." Hongjun stepped forward, cupped his hands, and smiled.

"No trouble at all!" Old Ancestor Qiankun among the three stood up first, laughing heartily as his gaze swept over Haotian and the others.

"So these are your disciples, fellow Daoist? Every one of them has a pure aura and extraordinary talent."

"Especially this newly accepted little one—the Dao Rhythm on him carries a trace of Pangu's will!"

"We pay our respects to the seniors!" The Three Pure Ones, Nuwa, Haotian, and Jade Pool all bowed in unison.

"Rise, all of you." Yang Mei waved his hand with a chuckle, his willow-like brows gently swaying.

"The Great Desolation is unstable. It's already rare that you can settle your hearts and cultivate at a time like this. Come, let's watch the farce of those three clans together."

Everyone followed his gaze to the void, where a scene of Cangwu Plain was reflected as clearly as a mirror.

The brutal images of the three-clan war carried a bone-piercing killing intent that could be sensed even deep in chaos.

Cangwu Plain was no longer what it had been. The originally unbroken Innate Spiritual Veins had been forcibly severed.

Spiritual energy gushed from the fractures, mixing with blood and condensing into black-red crystals on the ground.

The sky was stained dark purple by warfire, with calamity Qi and Sha Qi interweaving into solid clouds.

Every drop of rain that fell was black blood carrying the Dao Rhythm of slaughter. Golden dragon corpses of the Dragon Clan, fiery feather remnants of the Phoenix Clan, and Xuan Huang scales of the Qilin Clan carpeted the earth.

Some corpses still radiated the lingering might of Golden Immortals or Primordial Unity Golden Immortals, but they had long lost all life.

Further into the starry sky, many stars that once emitted soft light were now slowly collapsing.

That was the result of aftershocks from great power battles—the white light bursting from shattered star cores was even more dazzling than the innate Sun Star.

"Kill!" Dragon roars, phoenix cries, and qilin howls rose and fell in waves. The three clans had long since lost their minds.

At first, they still considered casualties among their own kind, but now they killed anyone they saw.

A golden dragon drove its claws into a fire phoenix's chest, only to have its own neck bitten off by a qilin from behind.

Golden dragon blood and fiery phoenix blood mixed together, dripping to the ground and instantly evaporating into blood mist.

A green luan had just spewed Southern Bright Leaving Fire to burn dragon cubs when several water arrows pierced its wings, and it fell with a mournful cry.

Some Qilin Clan members even grabbed enemy leaders and plunged together into cracked earth crevices, dying together in exploding spiritual veins.

The thunder from deep in the earth fissures shook the entire Cangwu Plain.

Time slipped away silently in this slaughter, and in a blink, thousands of years had passed.

In those millennia, the warfire not only failed to subside but spread to the mountains and rivers around Cangwu Plain, even dragging the Great Desolation Starry Sky into it.

Originally neutral innate clans, like the Mystic Tortoise Clan and the Spirit Ape Clan, were either forcibly conscripted by the three clans or annihilated in the war's spread.

The calamity Qi in heaven and earth grew heavier and heavier, nearly crushing the low clouds.

Sha Qi seeped deep into the Great Desolation through the Earth Veins, nourishing the demonic beings lurking in the shadows.

This was exactly what Luohu wanted to see. And self-detonations on the battlefield, which had been rare at first, now erupted in clusters.

A Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal of the Qilin Clan roared and ignited his Primordial Spirit, his Xuan Huang spiritual light surging to its peak before exploding with a bang.

The power of self-detonation was several times stronger than a full-strength strike in his prime, directly shattering a cluster of hundreds of nearby stars.

Star fragments rained down on the battlefield like meteors, smashing craters thousands of zhang deep into the ground.

Then, a Golden Immortal of the Origin from the Dragon Clan, unwilling to fall, resolutely chose to self-detonate his physical body and Primordial Spirit.

The force of the explosion instantly tore through the star domain barrier, twisting the entire starry sky.

Laws briefly stalled at the explosion's center, and even several nearby Golden Immortals of the Origin were severely wounded, falling on the spot.

Their dissipating Primordial Spirit fragments were carried by Sha Qi toward the Western Demon Domain.

"This can't go on." Old Ancestor Yin Yang frowned deeply, the Yin Yang Two Qi on his black-and-white Dao robe churning violently.

"The heavier the Sha Qi, the more advantageous it is for the Devil Race. Once Luohu gathers enough nourishment, he'll likely appear directly."

"Is there any way?" Old Ancestor Qiankun spread his hands, his tone helpless.

"Ancestral Dragon, Primordial Phoenix, and First Qilin are all possessed by calamity Qi now, their minds unclear. If we try to mediate, they'll just treat us as enemies and gang up on us."

"Better to wait a little longer. They've been fighting for thousands of years—their clans can't hold out much longer."

Yang Mei nodded as well, his willow-like brows gently swaying.

"Though the three clans have deep foundations, they can't withstand this kind of consumption."

"Members below Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal are more than half dead. Only a little over a million Primordial Unity Golden Immortals remain."

"Even the Golden Immortals of the Origin have lost more than half, and most of the survivors are wounded. They won't last much longer."

Hongjun said nothing, just stared at the scene in the void, his fingers unconsciously tapping the Jade Disk of Creation.

The unease in his heart grew stronger, yet he still could not grasp the source of that elusive variable.

On the jade slip, golden runes occasionally flickered with faint black demonic patterns, too fast for anyone to catch.

Just as Old Ancestor Qiankun had said. After thousands of years of relentless war, the three clans were utterly exhausted.

The Zenith Heaven Golden Immortals had chaotic auras; their movements as they swung weapons and clashed with Law Power had slowed considerably.

Some even had to rely on absorbing residual spiritual vein energy just to maintain their combat power.

The Golden Immortals of the Origin were not much better off. Though they could still fight, they were in dire straits.

Some had lost arms, others had damaged Primordial Spirits, struggling even to sustain their Law Power.

Yet no one was willing to yield. Once they conceded, not only would their clan lose its position as overlord, but they might also be wiped out entirely.

The clan legacies accumulated over Ten Thousand Yuanhui would be destroyed in an instant.

Such scenes were everywhere on the battlefield. When a Dragon Clan Golden Immortal of the Origin self-destructed and the blast reached the Ancestral Dragon, the violent surge of Law Origin finally dispelled the calamity energy within him.

"No—!" The Ancestral Dragon let out a low, dignified cry of grief, his voice filled with unbearable sorrow.

He looked down at his clan. The Dragon Clan, once numbering in the tens of millions, now had only a few million left, all wounded.

Golden scales were stained with the blood of kin and enemies alike.

Of the old ministers who had fought beside him, some had only half their bodies left, others had even had their Primordial Spirits scattered.

Even the Dragon Clan's Grand Elder, whom he trusted most, was now nothing but a mutilated head, eyes wide open in resentment.

Soon after, the First Qilin and the Primordial Phoenix were also jolted awake by the shockwaves of the self-destructions.

The First Qilin's voice was thick and hoarse, filled with endless regret: "What... have we done?"

The Primordial Phoenix let out a clear yet raspy cry, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield and landing on a severely wounded young colorful phoenix lying on the ground.

That was a rising junior of the clan. Now, her wings were torn, most of her fire feathers had fallen off, yet she still breathed with difficulty, gently using her beak to groom the remaining feathers of a fallen comrade.

Tears of fire fell from the Primordial Phoenix's eyes, her heart full of guilt.

These juniors of the clan were supposed to be the Phoenix Clan's hope for the future, yet now they had fallen to such a state. If the fighting continued, the Phoenix Clan would likely be completely annihilated.