Just as Yang Chen was locked onto by the pressure of the Twelve Ancestral Witches Stone Statues, his interest having just been thoroughly ignited, a voice rang out without warning.
The voice pierced through the twelve torrents of will powerful enough to tear apart a Grand Unity Golden Immortal and echoed precisely within his Sea of Consciousness.
"Fellow Daoist from afar, please do not be alarmed."
It was gentle and profound, carrying a compassion like the flourishing of all living things.
It was unlike any transmission of magical power. It was more like a pulse from the depths of the earth, like the whisper of the first seed breaking through the soil in spring.
The voice did not dispel the terrifying battle intent capable of incinerating everything, yet within that overbearing crimson world, it forcefully carved out a tranquil sanctuary for him, carefully sheltering Yang Chen's Divine Soul within.
The surging blood and qi within Yang Chen, which had been boiling madly from the extreme stimulation just moments ago, stalled slightly.
A hint of curiosity appeared in his fascinated gaze.
She could interfere with the lock of the Twelve Ancestral Witches' wills? And she was a woman. Now that was interesting.
"The Ancestral Witches Stone Statues bear no ill intent. They merely sensed the powerful blood and qi of your physical body, as well as that faint trace of Pangu's aura."
The voice continued to explain, every word carrying a power that soothed the heart.
Pangu's aura? That sounds nice. They clearly sensed the resentment of Pangu's mortal enemy and the power of Pangu's origin—two utterly opposing things.
Yang Chen followed the source of the voice with his gaze.
His eyes passed over the countless faces below, twisted with fanaticism and excitement, and settled precisely upon the depths of the grandest tribe.
A figure slowly emerged from a rough-hewn palace sculpted from a single massive boulder.
It was a woman.
She wore the simplest earthen-yellow palace robes, her long hair casually gathered behind her head. Her features were gentle, and her eyes held a compassion utterly out of place upon this land of iron and blood.
As she walked, not a trace of magical power rippled from her body. Not a single grain of dust rose beneath her feet, and even her footsteps were nearly inaudible.
Yet with every step she took, the deafening cheers and roars of the entire boisterous, violent Witch Clan tribe suddenly quieted.
The thick stench of blood and battle intent in the air, so dense it could not be dispersed, seemed to be washed away by a silent spring rain, gradually replaced by the fragrance of damp earth.
She was the earth.
And the earth was her.
Among the Twelve Ancestral Witches, she was the most extraordinary, the one who commanded the Law of Earth.
The future Lord of the Earthly Dao.
Houtu.
The heat in Yang Chen's eyes swiftly cooled.
So it was her.
Among twelve brutes who only knew how to think with their fists, she was the only one with a brain.
This was going to be troublesome.
The fire within him, ignited by his desire for a satisfying battle, felt as though a basin of cold water had been poured over it, leaving him with a strange sense of disappointment.
He had originally been looking forward to a simple, direct "exchange" where every punch struck flesh.
Houtu arrived in the square, looked up at Yang Chen hovering in midair, and gave him a slight bow.
This man... is truly strange. He bears both the overwhelming resentment and karma of Father God's mortal enemy, and the aura of Father God's supreme Law of Strength. The statues' reaction is both anger and affinity. Is he an enemy or a friend? To my Witch Clan, is he an irredeemable catastrophe or a once-in-a-millennium opportunity? I must find out.
A simple gesture seemed to stir the will of the entire primordial land, offering its respects to Yang Chen.
"I am Houtu. Greetings, Fellow Daoist."
Her voice was gentle, and her eyes were clear, as though they could cleanse all filth and slaughter from the world.
"Fellow Daoist bears great fortune and great karma. May I ask what business brings you to my Witch Clan?"
Her attitude was amicable to the extreme.
Her words were filled with respect for a powerful stranger.
Her appearance was like a spring breeze, dispersing the previously tense atmosphere of confrontation, ready to erupt at any moment.
Yet in the deepest depths of those compassionate, gentle eyes, Yang Chen caught a fleeting trace of gravity as weighty as the earth's core.
Kindness?
Yang Chen smiled silently to himself.
What kindness indeed.
What a fine "sensing."
The Ancestral Dragon Essence Blood within his body did not calm down at that moment. Instead, having caught the scent of an aura more dangerous and deeper than those twelve streams of battle intent, it became even more vigilant.
The Dragon, Phoenix, and Qilin Clans were gleaming blades.
Their hatred and karma were written plainly on their faces and laid out in the open—simple, direct, troublesome, yet pure.
But this Empress Houtu before him was an invisible, formless giant net.
With the gentlest posture and the kindest words, she silently spread that net, attempting to envelop him within it.
This net was woven more tightly, more resiliently, and more lethally than the one woven by the Dragon-Phoenix Qilin.
Pangu's aura?
That sounded nice.
Yang Chen knew full well that what concerned this group of Witches most, what had awakened these twelve stone statues from their eternal silence, was not merely the blood and qi of his physical body, nor was it that pitiful Fragment of the Law of Strength.
It was two utterly opposing kinds of karma originating from Pangu, both existing within him at once!
The first was the monstrous grudge inherited from Demon Ancestor Rahula, forged after his battle against Pangu's true body in the west.
This was an irreconcilable knot.
It was the mark of a mortal enemy the Witch Clan could never tolerate.
The second was the supreme Law of Strength Pangu had used to split open heaven and earth.
This was the origin.
It was the noblest and most central inheritance imprint within the Witch Clan's bloodline.
A mortal enemy.
And.
An inheritance.
These two extremely contradictory things had appeared within the same person.
This was the true reason the twelve Ancestral Witches Stone Statues had awakened from their ancient slumber!
This was why Houtu, the Ancestral Witch who commanded the earth and was famed for her steadiness and wisdom, had personally come forward to speak with him in such a manner!
She was assessing the risk.
She was also assessing the value.
The "kindness" in her words was a probing tentacle.
The "great fortune, great karma" in her words was the true core.
She was distinguishing.
Distinguishing whether he was an "enemy" who had inherited the resentment of Father God's mortal foe, or one of their own, bearing Father God's supreme inheritance.
How could this be a kind greeting?
This was clearly a new, far greater and more troublesome karma that had come knocking on his door of its own accord!
Thoughts raced through Yang Chen's mind, but his face remained as indifferent as ever.
What he enjoyed was the process of forcing his debtors into submission.
He enjoyed watching those lofty beings be toyed with in the palm of his hand, until they finally offered up everything.
Houtu's "gentleness" made him feel a touch of boredom.
He even somewhat missed the Ancestral Dragon's simple, direct roars and the Phoenix Ancestor's pride that would rather break than bend.
Dealing with clever people was, sometimes, truly exhausting.
It required schemes and disguises. It was far less satisfying than simply using one's fists.
Yang Chen sneered inwardly, reined in the blood and qi power that was nearly bursting from his body, and kept his expression unchanged.
He did not even show any intention of descending from the sky. Remaining high above, he looked down upon the future Lord of the Earthly Dao and replied calmly.
"Just passing through. I came to take a look around."
Before you continue