Di Jiang continued, his tone somewhat uncertain.
"Wasn't our plan to gather all our strength and wipe out the Demon Race in one stroke while Nuwa has yet to return, Di Jun and Tai Yi have not yet succeeded in Nirvana, and the Demon Race is not at its peak?"
This was the strategy he had established as the foremost Ancestral Witch, and it was also the only path to survival unanimously recognized by the entire Witch Race—strike first!
Houtu quietly listened to Di Jiang's words. There was no surprise in her eyes, only bottomless exhaustion and a sorrow bordering on pity.
She looked at Di Jiang. Her voice was soft, yet like a dull blade, slowly sawing through everyone's nerves. "And then?"
"And then?"
Zhu Rong's rough voice, filled with righteous certainty, immediately rang out, as though mocking how unnecessary Houtu's question was.
"Then, of course, we'll win the Witch-Demon War! We'll destroy Di Jun and Tai Yi, slaughter those feathered beasts, and the Prehistoric World will belong to the Witch Race!"
"That's right!" Gong Gong cut in, bloodthirsty light flickering in his eyes.
"As long as we follow the plan, gather all our strength, and catch the Demon Race off guard, victory will be within our grasp!"
Qiang Liang even waved his fist crackling with lightning. "Then let's see who still dares claim the Witch Race is at a dead end!"
The other Ancestral Witches all chimed in. To them, this was not a question at all.
Destroy the Demon Race, let the Witch Race rule supreme—this was the ultimate goal, and the only answer to "then."
Yet Houtu slowly but firmly shook her head.
Her gaze swept across the faces filled with fervor for "victory," and her voice was terrifyingly calm. "Win? Have we truly won?"
"Hm?"