At the border between Chaos and the Prehistoric World.
Lu Jun stood alone at the edge of the surging Chaos Gas Flow, his gaze piercing through endless space and clearly taking in the shifting tides across the lands of the Prehistoric World.
He saw it.
He saw the astonishing sight of the Witch Race retreating like a black tide from before the Demon Race's defensive line.
He saw that retreating torrent burst forth with even wilder momentum in the briefest instant, abruptly changing direction and charging straight toward the Western Lands!
Even with Lu Jun's knowledge, a clear flash of surprise and deep confusion passed through his eyes.
"Did Houtu really manage it?" he murmured, his tone carrying a touch of admiration.
"To persuade that group of Ancestral Witches, whose heads are stuffed with nothing but muscle and fighting spirit, to voluntarily withdraw and abandon such easily won gains... Houtu truly lives up to being someone capable of Incarnation Reincarnation and becoming an Earthly Dao Saint."
The Witch Race's withdrawal undoubtedly displayed the utmost sincerity. It also meant that Houtu's authority within the Witch Race was even more secure than he had anticipated.
Houtu had successfully made the first move.
Yet Lu Jun's brows soon furrowed slightly again, his eyes fixed tightly on the surging tide of the Witch Race racing westward.
"They withdrew, all right, but why are they heading straight for the Western Lands... what are they playing at?"
"Could it be that the Witch Race's battle-hungry, destructive instincts, ingrained deep in their bones, simply cannot be suppressed?"
"This withdrawal may just be a change of battlefield, allowing them to vent all that nowhere-to-go fighting spirit upon the already shattered Western Lands."
That guess best fit his usual impression of the Witch Race—simple, direct, and violent.
"If that