A Tragic Battle

At this moment, the heavens and earth of the Primordial World seemed shrouded in a terrifying gloom. Countless strands of Calamity Qi spread wantonly, like surging black tides, devouring the entire Primordial World whole.

Now, the Primordial World had become a brutal battlefield, with chaotic figures of the Three Clans locked in battle everywhere.

Under the influence of Calamity Qi, the minds of countless living beings were clouded. They had long forgotten why they first fought, leaving only one mad and bloody thought in their heads—to mercilessly slaughter every living creature before their eyes.

For a time, the land of the Primordial World was filled with the cries of the wounded. Countless beings let out unwilling wails, their voices echoing through the Calamity Qi and flames of war, sending chills down the spine.

Countless weak races, like ants in this catastrophe, were easily crushed and driven to extinction.

Words like "devastation" and "rivers of blood" seemed utterly pale and powerless before the Primordial World of this moment, unable to truly capture the horror of this war.

The many neutral races of the Primordial World suffered bitterly in this storm, helplessly dragged into the endless flames of war.

They faced a cruel choice: either join one of the Three Clans, becoming cannon fodder in the bloody slaughter, where death could come at any moment;

or refuse to submit, only to be casually wiped out by the Three Clans, their race's fortune ruthlessly plundered, vanishing without a trace from the annals of Primordial history.

Even the lofty Innate Divine Beings, before this war-tide that swept all, could hardly keep themselves untouched.

Some were forced by circumstance, others driven by various interests, sinking—actively or passively—into the quagmire of the Three Clans' war.

Slaughter, death, and plunder had become the main theme of the Primordial World.

The scent of blood permeated every inch of the air, as if even the wind carried a thick murderous intent.

By now, the Three Clans had sensed something was wrong.

Yet this war, like a runaway horse, was no longer under their control. Like a boulder rolling down a mountain peak, once it started, it could never stop.

Now, the Three Clans were trapped in a brutal deadlock.

Their only outcomes were either one clan, with absolute power, completely swallowing the other two;

or all three clans perishing together in this war, turning to dust in Primordial history.

But the Three Clans had always been immensely proud. Each believed itself the ultimate victor of this war, thinking the other two were mere stepping stones to success, destined to be sacrifices for their hegemony.

"A single general's fame rests on ten thousand bones." This phrase, describing the cruelty of war, seemed too light before the Three Clans' war. The number of beings fallen in this conflict was beyond count—trillions upon trillions would not be an exaggeration.

It was a number so vast it brought despair, representing the extinction of countless lives and countless races.

On one battlefield of the Primordial World, countless Dragon Clan members stood in orderly ranks, forming grand formations of imposing might.

Within the formations, powerful energy surged. In the void, countless phantom True Dragons flickered in and out of sight, radiating a fearsome, majestic aura.

Before these phantom True Dragons, even a being at the peak of Primordial Unity Golden Immortal was as fragile as an ant, utterly helpless.

The Phoenix Clan and Qilin Clan were much the same. In different areas of the battlefield, the phantoms of the Three Clans clashed and tore at each other madly in the void.

A phoenix phantom was unfortunate enough to be caught in the jaws of a True Dragon phantom, letting out a most pitiful wail that echoed through the void, filled with endless despair.

In the end, this phoenix phantom slowly dissipated, turning to nothing.

But before the True Dragon phantom could even savor its "victory," a Qilin phantom lunged like lightning, biting down hard on it.

The caught True Dragon phantom let out a series of screams, struggling desperately, but could not break free from the Qilin phantom's grip.

Finally, with one last mournful cry, this True Dragon phantom also vanished into the vast void.

Above these massive phantoms, many experts of the Three Clans fought individually, not forming formations.

These experts had all reached the Great Luo Golden Immortal realm, each exuding a powerful Aura.

A Dragon Clan Great Luo Golden Immortal, seeing his race's True Dragon phantom dissipate below, glared furiously and roared, "You're asking for death!"

As his words fell, a jet-black Mysterious Water sprayed from his mouth, surging like a dark torrent toward the Qilin phantom.

The moment the Mysterious Water touched the Qilin phantom, it vanished into the void without even a single cry.

And the Three Clans members who had formed these phantoms, the instant their phantoms dissipated, as if pulled by some mysterious force, spat blood in unison. Their life force rapidly faded, and their corpses fell helplessly from the void.

But even these corpses could not reach the ground of the Primordial World.

In this brutal battlefield, filled with the aftermath of great battles, most of their bodies were annihilated midair by the violent energies. The entire battlefield was a mess, with almost no intact corpse to be seen—this was the true picture of the Primordial battlefield.

"Aotian! You've crossed the line!" Suddenly, a Colorful Phoenix and a Water Kirin, both at the Great Luo Golden Immortal realm, saw Aotian interfering in the battle below and roared in unison.

Among the Three Clans, there had always been an unspoken rule—Great Luo Golden Immortals must not meddle in battles below the Great Luo realm.

Yet now, Aotian had openly broken this rule.

The two shouted in fury and struck at Aotian simultaneously.

In an instant, powerful energy ripples spread through the void.

Hearing their roars, Aotian sneered disdainfully and said mockingly, "Heh, naive. In a mess like this, you still talk about rules? How ridiculous!"

That said, facing the combined attack of the two, Aotian found himself hard-pressed, barely able to parry.

The Scaled Beasts, Flying Birds, and Beasts under the Three Clans were not idle either. Most of them fought under the banner of their respective clans, leaving almost no peaceful corner in the entire Primordial World.

Battlefields like this were everywhere in the Primordial World now, each filled with blood and slaughter.

Yet what truly decided the final outcome of the Three Clans was not these ordinary battlefields, but Ancestral Dragon, Yuan Feng, and Shi Qilin.

At this moment, driven by fate, the three had all broken through to the peak of Golden Immortal of the Origin.

They were only one step away from the legendary realm of Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal of the Origin.

But this step, seemingly within arm's reach, was like an impassable chasm, trapping them for countless long years.

They knew well that this final step was incredibly difficult, and might even consume all their time and energy without ever being crossed.

But for those who single-mindedly pursued supreme power and dominion, this was absolutely unacceptable.

Thus, even when they left Thunder Marsh back then and sensed the abnormal undercurrents surging in the Primordial World, knowing someone was scheming against them from the shadows, their obsession remained utterly unshaken.

Especially after learning that by unifying the Primordial World, they could rely on the Heaven and Earth Fruit Position of its sovereign and the vast fortune of the entire world to have a chance at attaining the Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal of the Origin—this news was like wildfire, thoroughly inflaming the already tense conflicts among the Three Clans and plunging the war into an even more brutal abyss.

Of course, behind this chaos, Luohu and the Devil Race he led were secretly fanning the flames and sowing discord.

At this moment, the Ancestral Dragon and the other two were above the Nine Heavens.

They had been locked in battle there for untold ages, their strengths nearly equal, each move and strike carrying the power to destroy heaven and earth.

The three sides clashed back and forth, locked in a stalemate, and after years of chaotic war, still no victor had emerged.

In a dark corner, Luohu coldly watched this brutal war of the Three Clans in the Primordial World, a sinister smile spreading across his face as he muttered to himself, "Fight, fight to your hearts' content! In the end, you're all just making a wedding dress for me. Once I unify the Primordial World, I will make Xuanxiao pay a heavy price!"

Behind Luohu, the Four Swords of Zhu Xian hovered.

At this moment, these four divine swords were like greedy Fierce Beasts, ceaselessly absorbing the dense Killing Intent between heaven and earth, black currents swirling around their blades, exuding a chilling, evil Aura.

Meanwhile, Hongjun arrived outside the Daoist Temple of Great Immortal Yang Mei.

Hongjun bowed slightly and said softly, "Fellow Daoist Yang Mei, an old friend visits. I hope you will come out to meet me."

After a moment, the great formation outside the Daoist Temple slowly opened, and from within came Yang Mei's steady, calm voice: "Fellow Daoist Hongjun, please enter."

Upon hearing the reply, Hongjun hesitated briefly, then stepped with steady strides into Yang Mei's Daoist Temple.

A long while later, Hongjun emerged from Yang Mei's Daoist Temple.

At this moment, his face was brimming with unconcealed joy, clearly indicating that his visit to Yang Mei had gone smoothly and achieved the outcome he had hoped for.