Pingxin Hall: First Clash with Empress Houtu!

Pingxin Hall.

The name stood in stark contrast to everything within the hall.

There were no immortal mists, no resplendent splendor. The entire palace had been carved from a single unknown slab of gray-black rock—massive, rugged, and filled with a primitive, savage sense of power. The air carried an ancient, heavy scent mixed with stone dust, strong liquor, and a faint tang of blood.

The walls were covered in murals carved by blade and axe. Pangu swung his giant axe, splitting Chaos apart; clear qi rose while turbid qi sank, and heaven and earth first opened; Twelve drops of essence blood fell from Pangu's heart, transforming into towering gods and demons.

Every stroke carried an unruly arrogance that defied heaven, feared not earth, and believed only in its own strength.

Houtu dismissed all the clansmen.

At this moment, only she and Yang Chen remained within this hall, the heart of the Witch Clan tribe.

The hall doors silently shut behind them, cutting off all light and sound from the outside. The interior suddenly darkened, lit only by several enormous Luminous Pearls embedded in the dome, casting a cold, pale glow.

The steady pulse originating from the earth became incomparably clear at this moment, nearly condensing into tangible pressure that filled every inch of the space.

Houtu did not sit. She simply stood quietly in the center of the hall. All concealment had vanished from her gentle eyes, leaving only a gravity as heavy as the earth's core.

This man's mind is far more devious and his methods far more ruthless than I expected. Xing Tian's fighting spirit is rare even in the prehistoric world, yet he dissolved it so easily in the most unimaginable manner. He is no brute. He is a madman who knows how to use his greatest threat. When dealing with someone like him, one wrong step means eternal damnation.

Her gaze was an unfathomable abyss.

"Fellow Daoist, let us speak plainly."

Her voice rang out, no longer as gentle as it had been in the plaza. It carried the rough texture of grinding stone, each word striking the silent air and sending out invisible ripples.

"The source of the karma upon you bears the mark of an enemy my Witch Clan bloodline can never erase, even through eternity."

She did not mention Rahula's name, nor did she invoke Pangu's.

Yet the towering hatred born at the beginning of creation and spanning endless ages completely awakened within this sealed palace alongside her words.

The air grew cold.

Yang Chen withdrew his gaze from the rugged murals and looked at Houtu.

So, it has finally come. Now that she has shed her disguise, this is what one of the Twelve Ancestral Witches should be like. A sworn enemy? What a pleasant way of putting it. They are merely pitiful creatures bound by their bloodline. Does she think she can use this hatred to suppress me? How naive.

He walked to a stone table and sat down without ceremony, picking up a clay wine bowl larger than an ordinary person's head.

Inside was the Witch Clan's unique strong liquor, dark red and thick as blood, its pungent, spicy scent rushing straight at the Divine Soul.

Without even looking at it, he tilted his head back and gulped down a large mouthful.

The liquor entered his throat like a ball of Chaos divine fire exploding in his chest. Its violent power was enough to instantly burst apart the Dao body of an ordinary Grand Unity Golden Immortal.

Yet Yang Chen's body merely trembled slightly, and a pleased flush appeared on his face.

Not bad. Strong enough. Let me see what tricks you, the only smart one among the Twelve Ancestral Witches, intend to play.

He set down the wine bowl, heavily striking it against the stone table with a dull thud.

"So?"

He raised his eyes, a playful curve at the corner of his lips. There was not the slightest panic at having his background exposed—only pure, undisguised provocation.

"Is Empress Houtu planning to clean house for Great God Pangu and eliminate me, this 'remnant'?"

"Or do you intend to suppress me, this walking 'Immeasurable Tribulation,' here, rid the prehistoric world of a scourge, and earn some Heavenly Dao merit while you are at it?"

Every word pierced the heart.

The abyss in Houtu's eyes rippled faintly.

He truly is testing my limits. Clean house? If it were that simple, why would I have invited him into Pingxin Hall? Suppress him? Even the Heavenly Dao and the Six Sages can only placate him. How much confidence could my Witch Clan possibly have? He is forcing me to reveal my final trump card completely.

She shook her head.

"No."

That single word was utterly decisive.

"Quite the opposite."

She stared at Yang Chen. Those eyes that could see through the earth's dragon veins now seemed determined to see through every part of Yang Chen, from his past to his future.

"From you, I have sensed not only an ending capable of destroying everything."

"I have also sensed a sliver of... vitality, one that even I cannot see clearly."

Her voice was low, carrying a bewilderment she herself could not confirm, almost like sleep-talking.

"You are like a ghost, wandering beyond the Heavenly Dao, outside fate, untouched by reincarnation. You are that 'one which escaped,' the greatest variable and the greatest anomaly."

"I will not make an enemy of you."

Houtu stepped forward. Her earthen-yellow palace robes moved without wind, and the heavy aura of her union with the earth climbed to its peak.

"More than that..."

A trace of resolve entered her voice.

"My Witch Clan can cooperate with you."

"Cooperate?"

Yang Chen raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. The playfulness on his face faded somewhat, finally revealing a hint of genuine interest.

Interesting. Now this is interesting. She actually saw through my true nature? The one which escaped? That sounds much better than what that Heavenly Dao 'father' calls me. Cooperation... She wants to negotiate with a walking nuclear bomb. That courage surpasses ninety-nine percent of the beings in the prehistoric world. Let me see what price she can offer.

Coming from one of the Twelve Ancestral Witches, that word carried immense weight.

Especially after she had made clear that he and the Witch Clan shared an ancient blood feud.

Houtu's gaze swept over the murals of the towering Ancestral Witches on the walls, and a trace of sorrow and heaviness difficult for outsiders to detect appeared in her eyes.

My brothers know only how to fight, yet they cannot see that the road ahead has already been cut off. Father God's bloodline is indeed powerful, but it has also become our greatest shackle. The Heavenly Dao will not tolerate us, and the sages watch us closely. If we do not find a way soon, the Witch Clan's fate is already set. Yang Chen... he is the only variable. He is poison, but perhaps also the only antidote. I must place this wager!

"My Witch Clan does not cultivate the primordial spirit, does not revere the Heavenly Dao, and believes only in the bloodline and strength left behind by Father God. This path appears overbearing, but in truth... it has already reached its end."

Her voice was filled with deep helplessness.

"Without primordial spirits, we cannot entrust ourselves to the Heavenly Dao or attain the Primordial Dao Fruit. In the end, we are merely chess pieces unable to control our own fate upon this prehistoric chessboard. Once the great tribulation begins, the result will be the destruction of our clan."

"I have always been seeking a path forward for my Witch Clan's future."

Her words were honest to the extreme, almost laying bare the Witch Clan's greatest weakness before Yang Chen, an outsider.

"Your arrival has shown me a possibility."

Her gaze locked onto Yang Chen's face once more. Flames ignited in her gentle eyes.

"Even the Heavenly Dao must avoid your existence, and even the Six Sages must act with restraint. That alone is a power sufficient to overturn the entire chessboard!"

"My Witch Clan needs neither the Heavenly Dao, nor Hongjun, nor those lofty sages!"

"We need a fulcrum—an ally capable of standing against the entire prehistoric world and still remaining unshaken!"

Her voice echoed through the sealed hall, filled with unquestionable sincerity and resolve.

"My Witch Clan can become your ally."

"When you need it, the Twelve Capital Celestial Evil Formation, forged from Father God's twelve drops of essence blood, can be activated for you at any time!"

"I have only one condition."

Yang Chen put down his wine bowl.

The hall once again fell into deathly silence.

She has placed both her greatest weakness and greatest trump card on the table. What a decisive woman. An ally? The Twelve Capital Celestial Evil Formation? This offer is far more generous than Primordial and Tongtian's. But there is no free lunch in this world. The richer the gift, the heavier the price demanded behind it.

He looked at the Ancestral Witch before him, who had placed the fate of her entire race upon the gambling table, at the flames burning in her eyes, and calmly asked:

"What condition?"