The Twelve Ancestor Witches' Request: Make Contact and Invite the Three Pure Ones? I Can't Do That, Can I? The Witch Clan Rules the World
Qingyuan followed Gonggong into the Pangu Temple.
The space inside the temple was countless times larger than it appeared from outside.
Its vastness transcended space law, as though someone had compressed an entire starfield into a single palace.
The temple's vaulted ceiling rose beyond sight, and countless stars revolved, perished, and were reborn above it.
Their light spilled down, illuminating the entire temple as brightly as day, yet it neither dazzled nor burned. There was only an ancient, tranquil, weighty radiance.
The temple floor was paved with blue-black stone slabs, each engraved with ancient patterns.
Within those patterns lay Pangu's aura, the will to cleave heaven and earth, the compassion to create all things, and the majesty to destroy everything.
Qingyuan lowered his eyes to those patterns, and his Dao heart trembled slightly. The power they contained was too immense, too ancient, too pure, like an abyss whose bottom could never be seen.
At the center of the temple, twelve figures sat in twelve different positions.
The Twelve Ancestor Witches.
Qingyuan looked at the Twelve Ancestor Witches.
His gaze swept from left to right, then from right to left.
Dijiang sat deepest within the temple.
His face was indistinct, as though he existed between reality and illusion.
His figure flickered in and out of the void, while space and time warped, folded, and stretched around him.
His aura was the most profound among the Twelve Ancestor Witches, as profound as a void that could never be filled.
That was space law at its pinnacle.
Gou Mang sat in the east.
His face was aged, his hair and beard green, his figure slender as a tree. Beneath every inch of his skin flowed the vitality of wood law.
His aura held a vigorous, irrepressible life force.
That was wood law at