At that moment, Buzhou Mountain—the pillar of heaven that bore Pangu God's spine and held up the Primordial World—suddenly let out an extremely deep rumble.
It sounded less like thunder cracking and more like an ancient beast, long asleep, turning over. The entire mountain range trembled faintly with it.
Taiyuan and his two companions had just flown out from halfway up Buzhou Mountain on the Twelve-Grade Golden Lotus of Merit. Before they could even pick up speed, the heavens and earth abruptly changed color.
The sky, which had been fairly clear, was instantly obscured by a dense, murky baleful aura. It was no ordinary baleful energy, but ancient divine fiendish energy that welled up from deep underground, brimming with violence and bloodlust.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Twelve enormous phantom demon gods, towering between heaven and earth, appeared in the void without warning.
There was Zhurong, with the head of a beast and the body of a man, clad in red scales, with fire serpents piercing his ears; Gonggong, with a serpent's head and a man's body, clad in black scales and standing atop a black dragon; and Houtu, with seven spines growing from her back, the face of a woman and the body of a tiger, holding a giant serpent...
The Twelve Ancestral Witches!
These savage overlords normally lay low beneath Buzhou Mountain and rarely concerned themselves with worldly affairs. Now, all of them had appeared at once, their terrifying pressure instantly sealing off the void for a million li in every direction.
"Oh no!"
Di Jun and Tai Yi, who had only just finished dividing the treasures and hadn't gone far, instantly turned ashen.
The Demon Clan and the Witch Clan were natural enemies. Seeing the Twelve Ancestral Witches appear together, Di Jun instinctively summoned He Tu Luo Shu. Tai Yi tucked away the Immortal Slaying Gourd he'd barely had time to enjoy and clamped the Chaos Bell back into place, while True Sun Fire roared around him.
On the Three Pure Ones' side, Primordial Heavenly Lord knitted his brows, a trace of disgust and wariness flashing through his eyes.
"How did these brutes, who cultivate only their bodies and not their souls, suddenly come out? Could they be after those gourds too?"
"No."
Laozi shook his head. His seemingly perpetually cloudy old eyes flashed with light. "Their auras aren't focused on us, but..."
Everyone followed the gazes of those twelve terrifying phantoms. Their eyes landed, as one, on... Taiyuan.
More precisely, they were fixed on the sleeve where he had just tucked away the Withered Vine and a handful of Breathing Soil.
"Who dares take the soil formed from Father God's spine?!"
A woman's sharp cry rang out, carrying a pressure as heavy as the earth itself, from the phantom with the face of a woman and the body of a tiger.
Houtu.
She was the only woman among the Twelve Ancestral Witches, and the one who ruled over the laws of the earth. Of them all, she was the most sensitive to any change in Buzhou Mountain, the spine of Father God.
At her challenge, twelve murderous gazes, like twelve tangible swords, locked onto the three people atop the golden lotus.
"We're finished, we're finished!"
Zhunti was terrified by the sudden turn of events. He gripped the Sky-Turning Shovel so tightly that his palms were sweating. "Elder Brother, these brutes don't know the meaning of reason! They don't even care about Dao Ancestor Hongjun. If they start fighting, our puny little bodies..."
Jieyin's face was bitter too. Golden light blazed from the lotus in his hands as he tried to raise a protective barrier. But under the oppressive aura of the Twelve Capital Gods and Demons, the merit-gold light that was usually indestructible now wavered like a candle in the wind.
Taiyuan alone remained unruffled.
Standing at the very front of the lotus, facing a torrent of baleful energy powerful enough to shatter a Grand Luo Golden Immortal's Dao Heart, he showed not the slightest sign of panic. Instead, he slowly put away his defensive Magic Treasure.
He even patted the dirt from his sleeve, a gentle smile on his lips.
"Don't panic."
Taiyuan murmured a few soothing words to his two younger brothers, then stood with his hands behind his back and took a step forward.
He summoned no spiritual treasure and used no divine ability.
He merely closed his eyes. Then the mark between his brows, which had been with him since the moment he crossed into this world, suddenly lit up.
Hum—
A soft, pure white light, filled with boundless compassion and affection, blossomed from Taiyuan's brow.
It wasn't dazzling. In the face of the Twelve Ancestral Witches' overwhelming baleful aura, it even seemed somewhat insignificant.
Yet the moment it appeared, the violent energy melted away and retreated, like snow beneath the blazing sun.
Pangu Wish Light.
When Pangu God had created the world and transformed into all things, this was the first glimmer of "hope" he had left behind in the world.
It was Pangu's love for this world and his hopes for all living beings. It was even closer to the source of Pangu's "divine soul" than the Twelve Ancestral Witches, who had been formed from his twelve drops of blood essence.
"Little Tu, and you too, little Rong, the one who plays with fire."
Taiyuan opened his eyes. His usually gentle gaze now held the kindly, helpless affection of an elder looking at a rebellious child.
He looked at the enormous figures in the void, which had been brimming with murderous intent moments ago, and spoke as though making casual conversation:
"Why all the shouting? Whatever happened to decorum? Aren't you worried you'll disturb Father God's rest?"
"Who are you?!"
Zhurong's hot-tempered shout cut off abruptly. The Innate Divine Fire he'd been about to spew out stuck in his throat, and he choked, coughing twice.
Houtu's enormous avatar shuddered. A look of confusion—and... longing for a parent—appeared in her beastly eyes, which had been full of killing intent.
That aura...
It was so familiar.
So dear to them.
It was Father God's aura, flowing deep in their blood—the one they missed day and night, yet could never reach!
"Me?"
Taiyuan smiled, the light around him growing gentler. "I came on Father God's behalf to see how you were doing, and to take a look at this world."
"This soil came from Father God's spine. I know how precious it is to you."
"But if it's left to rot in the earth, it's nothing more than a handful of dead matter."
"I took it to create life, to let Father God's legacy flourish across the Primordial World and carry that last glimmer of life onward."
"If Father God were watching from beyond, he wouldn't be happy to see you being so petty."
If anyone else had said this—even Dao Ancestor Hongjun—the Twelve Ancestral Witches would probably have punched them on the spot.
But coming from Taiyuan, accompanied by that utterly pure Pangu Wish Light, the words took on a different meaning.
It was like an elder who had been away from home for years suddenly returning to scold a few unruly juniors. The words might not be pleasant, but the affection behind them was unmistakably real.
The Twelve Ancestral Witches were famously straightforward and stubborn.
Their simple logic went like this: Pangu's aura meant one of their own, which meant an elder.
If an elder was taking a bit of soil to do something worthwhile, could that be called stealing? It was just putting it to use!
The atmosphere, which had been on the verge of erupting, instantly turned strange.
Zhurong scratched his enormous, fiery head and looked at his eldest brother, Dijiang, with an earnest expression. "Elder Brother, he smells so good... I feel like crying."
Gonggong sniffed too, his eyes reddening. "I feel like crying too. It's like Father God is stroking my head."
Houtu went a step further. She dispelled her avatar and transformed into a gentle woman in an earthy-yellow dress. She bowed to Taiyuan from afar, her eyes filled with reverence and guilt.
"Houtu was rash. I didn't know you were... Father God's kin. Please forgive me."
That bow left all the powerful figures nearby who'd been watching the show completely dumbfounded.
The Three Pure Ones stared wide-eyed. Primordial Heavenly Lord in particular, who prided himself on being of the Pangu Orthodox Lineage, turned pale, then flushed.
He looked down on those brutes more than anyone, and they'd never paid him any mind. Yet now they were calling a Western Daoist their elder?
What did that make him?
Di Jun and Tai Yi were equally stunned.
Just who was this Western Taiyuan? He wasn't only on good terms with Nuwa and on brotherly terms with Tongtian—now even these lawless Ancestor Witches were bowing to him?
His connections, his backing—they were beyond anyone's reach!
Taiyuan accepted the bow without hesitation, secretly delighted, though his face maintained the composed, inscrutable air of an elder.
"Those who don't know are innocent."
Taiyuan waved a hand, calm and unruffled, as though he hadn't nearly been mobbed just moments ago.
"I'll take the soil, then. If you ever have time, come visit me in the Western Lands. I've planted all sorts of good things there, and there'll be food for you."
At the mention of food, Zhurong's eyes lit up. He was just about to speak when Dijiang shot him a glare.
As the leader of the Twelve Ancestral Witches, Dijiang hadn't seen much of the world either, but at least he was somewhat more composed.
He spoke in a deep, thunderous voice that rolled across the land:
"If it's Father God's wish, then take it. Though Buzhou Mountain is the Witch Clan's territory, Senior, you may come and go as you please, and take whatever you like."
At that, Dijiang's baleful eyes swept coldly over Di Jun, Tai Yi, and the others who still hadn't left, then returned to Taiyuan. He thumped his chest and promised:
"If anyone dares bully you in the Primordial World, or show you disrespect, just tell them our names!"
"Let's see who dares lay a hand on Father God's relative!"
Those final words were domineering and murderous.
Di Jun and Tai Yi's faces turned ashen. They snorted coldly and turned to leave.
There was no point staying here. If they hung around any longer, they wouldn't just miss out on the treasures—they'd be tormented by these brutes too.
Taiyuan smiled and cupped his hands toward the Twelve Ancestral Witches.
"Of course, of course."
"I'll be heading back now. Remember to keep in touch."
With that, he sat back down on the lotus and patted Jieyin and Zhunti, who were still staring blankly.
"Come on. What are you standing around for? Let's go home and plant the vine!"
The golden lotus turned into a streak of light and swaggered through the passage the Twelve Ancestral Witches had opened, then flew off into the distance.
Behind them, Zhurong's booming farewell rang out:
"Safe travels, Senior! Come visit again!"
Only after they had completely left the area around Buzhou Mountain did Taiyuan let out a long breath and discreetly wipe the nonexistent cold sweat from his brow.
That whole performance had looked as steady as an old dog, but in truth, he'd been scared out of his wits.
If those brutes had stubbornly decided to attack, then even with his Glass Pure World Body, he'd probably have been beaten half to death.
Thank goodness he'd gambled right.
"Elder Brother..."
Only now did Zhunti come back to his senses. He looked at Taiyuan as though he were a true deity. "Are you... really a relative of Pangu God?"
"Does that mean we can do whatever we want in the Primordial World from now on?"
Taiyuan glanced at him, pulled a Star Grape from his sleeve, and popped it into his mouth to calm his nerves.
"Only crabs walk sideways."
"We're scholars. We should reason with people."
"But..." Taiyuan's lips curled into a smile. "If anyone refuses to reason with us, we can always call over our poor relations and have them 'reason' with them properly."
"Let's go home!"
"With this vine, our Western household's wealth will grow by another third!"
Before you continue