Lesser Yang Town's Green Wood, the Witch Clan Rules the West

Utmost deathly stillness and vibrant flourishing collided head-on within this realm.

On one side, the Gray White Death Domain devoured all life—ten thousand trees withered, mountains and rivers faded, even time itself was drained of vitality. On the other side, azure-green divine radiance nourished heaven and earth—dead wood returned to spring, lotuses bloomed in the void, and every strand of Dao rhythm spurred new birth.

Lesser Yang Law and Wood Law clashed fiercely, each eroding and transforming the other.

This battlefield was no longer a contest of supernatural abilities, but a struggle between the laws of Donghua and Jumang. The boundary between withering and flourishing blurred here; the cycle of life and death manifested in this place.

For a moment, heaven and earth fell silent, leaving only the roar of Dao rhythms.

As a tender sprout broke through the soil, the scales of battle had already begun to tip.

What emerged was not merely life, but a sign that the Lesser Yang Law wielded by Donghua had surpassed the Wood Law commanded by Jumang.

Thus, all things responded.

Countless green shoots burst from the cracked earth, swiftly transforming into towering ancient trees; dry riverbeds surged anew with clear springs, golden lotuses blooming on the water's surface.

The once-gray sky was pierced by myriad rays of dawn light, each thread imbued with vibrant life-Dao rhythms, turning this barren land into a lush immortal realm.

Donghua stood with hands clasped behind his back at the center of this renewed world, the Azure Emperor Dharma Image behind him holding spring in hand, scattering endless vitality.

Jumang stared blankly at the leaping emerald divine light around him, then slowly raised his head to gaze at Donghua standing still in the void. The battle intent in his eyes faded, replaced by a glimmer of understanding.

In that moment, victory and defeat were decided.

Not from exhaustion of strength, but because the height of the Dao had been judged.

Looking out, the surrounding thousand li had become a secret realm of life—jade grass carpeted the ground, rare flowers vied to bloom, clear springs trickled over stones, and spiritual energy condensed into mist drifting through the groves.

Even the shattered battlefield beneath his feet now bore crystalline moss, blooming with dots of Dao-rhythm flowers.

Jumang withdrew his ten-thousand-zhang Ancestor Witch True Body, returning to his Innate Dao Body form. He walked slowly toward the first sprout that had broken the soil, reached out to gently touch its new leaf, felt the ceaseless cycle of life flowing within, and a faint smile of release touched his lips:

"This battle, I have lost."

He lifted his gaze to meet Donghua's eyes, no shadow in his sight, but instead the pure clarity unique to a Seeker of Dao:

"Yet to glimpse the true essence of the Great Dao—this defeat is worth it."

In that instant, the tender sprout at his fingertips bloomed with a warm, gentle light, as if responding to this heart of enlightenment.

Jumang withdrew his hand and stood upright, a look of mutual admiration in his eyes as he called out clearly:

"Daoist Donghua, would you care to visit my tribe for a talk? Three cups of strong wine, and after some rest, we shall fight again!"

Jumang had his own calculations. Though he had lost in the contest of laws, the Witch Clan's true foundation lay in flesh-and-blood combat.

If he could entice Donghua into close-quarters sparring, he would surely let the other witness the exquisite battle arts of the Witch Clan.

Donghua cupped his hands in response, his robes fluttering lightly in the breeze: "I appreciate Ancestor Witch Jumang's kind offer, but I wish to journey to Buzhou Mountain to behold the legacy of Pangu Father God, so I shall not impose this time."

Donghua lifted his gaze toward the towering silhouette at the center of the Primordial Wilderness, his voice carrying a hint of ethereality: "The Primordial Wilderness is vast, yet fate will bring us together again."

At the words "Father God," a sharp light flashed in Jumang's eyes, and his admiration for Donghua deepened by three parts. He clapped his hands and laughed, his voice shaking the wilds:

"Good! Since you wish to pay homage to Father God, I shall not press you to stay. Next time we meet, I will surely fight you again."

Donghua was about to take his leave when he saw Jumang hesitate, a rare look of uncertainty crossing his rugged face.

"Does the Daoist have something else to say?" Donghua asked gently.

Hearing Donghua's inquiry, Jumang's hands—large enough to lift mountains—rubbed together unconsciously. His throat moved several times before he finally spoke:

"It shames me to say this, but our Witch Clan is born without cultivating the Primordial Spirit, and we are unskilled in the art of deduction. A hundred years ago, heaven and earth mourned together, and all twelve of us Ancestor Witches sensed it, yet to this day we do not know what truly happened."

Jumang's tiger-like eyes blazed as he looked at Donghua: "I wonder if the Daoist could perform a deduction on our behalf? Our Witch Clan will surely repay you handsomely."

Donghua's gaze shifted slightly, and in a flash of thought, he grasped the crux of the matter.

The Witch Clan, entrenched around Buzhou Mountain, had always revered strength above all, treating the Myriad Races as prey, launching campaigns and slaughter at will. Their ferocious reputation was so fearsome that the beings of the Primordial Wilderness fled from their Ancestral Land, so how could any creature come here to voluntarily inform the Witch Clan of such matters?

As for the Innate Divine Beings dwelling in Grotto-heaven Blessed Lands, they spent their days visiting friends, discussing the Dao, and roaming the mountains and waters. Though they had no direct conflict with the Witch Clan, their paths were clearly separate, with no deep friendship.

Thinking this, Donghua sighed inwardly:

The western spiritual veins had been destroyed for nearly a hundred years, yet the Witch Clan still knew nothing.

Such isolation from the world, while due to their lack of Primordial Spirit cultivation, also exposed the Witch Clan's fatal flaw in the grand scheme of heaven and earth.

Donghua's gaze shifted. After a moment's thought, he lightly pinched a Dao formula with his fingers within his sleeve, pondered briefly, and then spoke slowly:

"Since Ancestor Witch Jumang asks, I shall speak plainly. A hundred years ago, the Devil Ancestor Luohu self-detonated his devil body in the west, while secretly laying a scheme to destroy all the earth veins of the western continent. Hence, heaven and earth mourned together."

"What?!" At Donghua's words, Jumang's expression changed violently, and Sha Qi surged uncontrollably around him. "That wretch Luohu dared to destroy the world Father God created!"

"Daoist Donghua, can you deduce Luohu's location? Our Witch Clan will make him pay."

"Ancestor Witch, calm yourself. The Devil Ancestor Luohu is already dead. As for the rest, I do not know."

The Green Wood Dao patterns on Jumang's body flickered unsteadily, his voice heavy with pain: "We Ancestor Witches have failed Father God! As his descendants, while someone destroys heaven and earth, we knew nothing..."

"Ancestor Witch Jumang, wallowing in grief now will not help." Donghua's voice rang clear as a bell, rousing Jumang from his sorrow. "The urgent task is to go to the west immediately to mend the earth veins and pacify the turbid Qi."

"Where the earth veins have broken, turbid Sha has already arisen. If allowed to spread, the remaining spiritual veins in the west will also be corrupted. Then, the west will become a barren wasteland entirely."

"I have heard that the Witch Clan can absorb turbid Qi to temper their bodies. If the Ancestor Witch personally suppresses it, the calamity may be delayed."

"Thank you for the reminder, Daoist!" Jumang's eyes blazed with sharp light, Green Wood Dao patterns swirling around him, before he spoke to Donghua.

"Daoist Brother Donghua, the matter of the earth veins is of utmost importance—I must immediately summon the other Ancestor Witches for counsel! Today's hospitality has been lacking, but once this affair is settled, I will surely hold a feast to make amends to you!"

Before his words had even faded, he had already manifested his ten-thousand-zhang Ancestor Witch True Body, then transformed into a streak of cyan light that tore through the sky and departed.

Donghua watched the cyan rainbow that was Jumang vanish into the horizon, lost in thought.

The Twelve Ancestor Witches, born from Pangu's essence blood, were originally blessed by the merit of opening the heavens, making it difficult for any living being in the Primordial Wilderness to harm them in the slightest.

But ever since they founded the Witch Clan and began wantonly hunting and killing the myriad spirits, that merit had been draining away at an astonishing rate.

If the day truly came when their merit was exhausted and their fortune scattered, even beings as mighty as the Ancestor Witches could not escape heaven and earth's rejection, and would ultimately fall.

"Just like Di Jun and Taiyi..." Donghua's gaze turned cold.

The Demon Race, slaughtering living beings, was likewise consuming its own fortune.

Perhaps this was why, in the original trajectory of heavenly fate, both sides would ultimately perish together in the Great Tribulation.

His awakening of Jumang today was precisely to gift the Witch Clan an opportunity to regain merit.

Suppressing the earth veins and purifying the turbid qi was an act aligned with the Heavenly Dao, sure to be rewarded with merit. When the Witch Clan and the Demon Race clashed then, who knew what form it would take.

Since he had already made enemies of Di Jun and Taiyi, he naturally intended to stir up some trouble for them.