After leaving Lingxiao Treasure Hall, Qingxuan exchanged greetings with Nuwa.
He then left Heavenly Court alongside the Twelve Ancestral Witches, heading straight for Pangu Hall beneath Buzhou Mountain.
Along the way, the Ancestral Witches were in high spirits. Zhu Rong and Gong Gong in particular had stopped bickering for once, slinging their arms over each other's shoulders as they reminisced about Di Jun's expression, as if he had swallowed a fly, and laughed heartily.
"Thirteenth Brother, you really helped us vent our anger this time!"
Di Jiang patted Qingxuan on the shoulder, his voice thick with schadenfreude.
"Those two feathered birds have lost face throughout the entire Primordial World this time!"
Qingxuan smiled, but his tone carried a hint of solemnity.
"Big Brother Di Jiang, brothers and sisters, although today's incident made the Demon Race lose all face, it also thoroughly enraged them."
"Hongjun made it clear that the Demon Race's heavenly destiny has not yet ended. That means a war between the Witch Race and Demon Race is inevitable in the end, and this battle will be difficult to avoid."
At those words, the Ancestral Witches' laughter gradually faded, and solemn expressions appeared on their faces.
They might be warlike, but they were not fools. The experience of the Three Primordial Races was still vivid in their minds, so they were naturally on guard.
"If you have any thoughts, Thirteenth Brother, just say them."
Zhu Jiuyin asked. As the Wise One of the Witch Race, he naturally understood that Qingxuan had something to say.
"Not yet. We'll discuss it after we return to Pangu Hall."
Qingxuan shook his head. It would be safer to discuss what came next inside Pangu Hall.
They said nothing else along the way, and Qingxuan returned directly to Pangu Hall with the Ancestral Witches.