Witch-Demon Conflict

Dijun looked at Dongwanggong, a smile returning to his face. "Daoist Dongwanggong, this struggle for Mount Buzhou with the Witch Race is of great significance. Mount Buzhou is the center of the Honghuang, a place where qi and destiny converge. If we can gain complete control over it, it will greatly benefit the qi and destiny of our Demon Race."

"Our Demon Race aspires to rule heaven and earth, to govern the entire Honghuang. The Witch Race are nothing but remnants of Pangu, blind to the will of Heaven, foolishly trying to go against its course. They will be abandoned by the Heavenly Dao sooner or later!"

Dongwanggong's heart stirred at these words. He fully understood the importance of Mount Buzhou and recognized Dijun's ambition.

His only way forward now was to cling tightly to the thigh of the Demon Race's Heavenly Court.

"Your Majesty the Demon Emperor speaks truly," Dongwanggong quickly echoed. "The Witch Race is indeed too steeped in slaughter, going against the Heavenly Dao.

We, the orthodox path of immortals, should naturally assist the Demon Emperor and resist the Witch Race together."

In his mind, he calculated that if the Demon Race could successfully take control of Mount Buzhou, his own title as the Chief of Male Immortals would gain some added weight.

At that point, he might be able to secure more cultivation resources from Dijun, or perhaps gain his support to establish a true Immortal Court.

Dijun nodded with satisfaction, pleased with Dongwanggong's attitude.

"Daoist, your deep understanding of righteousness brings this Emperor great comfort." Dijun smiled faintly, his gaze once again falling on the battlefield below. "In this battle, Jimeng will not disappoint this Emperor."

He knew in his heart that this was not merely a struggle for Mount Buzhou, but the beginning of the Demon Race's declaration of hegemony over the Witch Race and the entire Honghuang. Mount Buzhou must be held in the hands of the Demon Race.

On the battlefield below, the conflict had now fully erupted.

Jimeng let out a furious roar, his trident stirring up towering waves as he smashed it toward Jumang.

The laws of water merged with Demonic Qi, forming a massive water dragon that roared as it charged at Jumang.

Jumang was not to be outdone. With a wave of his wooden staff, countless vines wove together into a tough green barrier.

At the same time, the Witch Warriors behind him launched their charge, colliding with the Demon Soldiers.

"Boom! Rumble!"

Earth-shattering roars echoed at the foot of Mount Buzhou. The light of magical power and the fluctuations of witch force intertwined, flesh and blood flying, screams filling the air.

This once-peaceful valley had instantly turned into a battlefield of Shura.

Eastern Emperor Taiyi watched the carnage below, a gleam of excitement shining in his eyes.

He loved this kind of direct combat, loved conquering everything with raw power.

Dijun, on the other hand, remained calm and composed, his mind silently scheming about something else.

In the distance, after refining the Banana Leaf Fan from the Banana Tree, Xuanqing sensed an unusual fluctuation. He stopped in his tracks, his heart tightening.

This fluctuation carried a dense Sha Qi and Demonic Qi, clearly the sign of a great battle.

Since the disturbance was widespread and Xiao Hei had just recovered from his weakness, Xuanqing took Xiao Hei down from his shoulder.

"Xiao Hei, don't come out for now," Xuanqing softly instructed Xiao Hei inside the Sleeve Universe.

Xiao Hei obediently nodded.

Xuanqing extended his divine sense, carefully probing toward the direction of the fluctuation.

When he saw the chaotic battlefield at the foot of Mount Buzhou, he couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

The Witch Race and the Demon Race were actually fighting here. And judging by the scale, this was no minor skirmish.

"During my time on Mount Buzhou, it seems the Witch-Demon Tribulation has already begun without me noticing," Xuanqing thought to himself.

Ever since Hongjun's first sermon, the Witch and Demon Races had already started small-scale battles, but it was only after Hongjun prepared to Merge with Dao that the two races truly began to get serious.

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Xuanqing's gaze quickly locked onto the three figures in the high sky, especially Dijun and Eastern Emperor Taiyi. Their auras were far too conspicuous.

"It seems this struggle for Mount Buzhou has come earlier and more fiercely than I imagined," Xuanqing mused inwardly.

He had originally planned to quietly search for the Primordial Purple Qi, but now it seemed the battle at the foot of Mount Buzhou would likely affect the entire mountain's aura field.

He did not approach recklessly. The conflicts between these great powers were far beyond his ability to intervene at this point.

Still, in the midst of chaos, it might be easier to fish in troubled waters.

Xuanqing withdrew his divine sense and re-examined his surroundings. Mount Buzhou, formed from Pangu's spine, was vast and boundless, with complex terrain. Moving here without being noticed was not difficult.

He decided to avoid the conflict for now.

What did the Witch and Demon Races fighting to the death have to do with him? He was just a passerby here to find treasure.

Xuanqing picked a direction completely opposite to the battlefield below and quietly moved forward.

The Pangu Pressure here was extremely heavy, limiting the range of divine sense exploration, which actually became his best cover.

As long as he was careful and didn't actively release his aura, neither Dijun nor the Ancestral Witches would likely notice his presence while focused on the battle.

Xuanqing's figure wove through the mountain peaks, his movements light and silent, without making a single sound.

But sometimes, trouble finds you whether you want it or not.

Just as he rounded a massive cliff face, several overwhelmingly powerful auras appeared without warning within his perception range.

Xuanqing's body instantly froze, his scalp tingling.

He jerked his head up and saw, on a cliff not far ahead, ten towering figures standing like pillars of heaven and earth.

Every single figure exuded a savage, ancient, and overbearing aura. Just by standing there, they caused the space around them to warp.

At the head, a figure with a human face and a bird's body, four wings sprouting from its back, was none other than the Ancestral Witch of Space and Speed, Dijiang.

Beside him, one covered in bone spikes was the Ancestral Witch of Metal, Roushou. Another, stepping on two fire dragons and wreathed in blazing flames, was the Ancestral Witch of Fire, Zhurong.

There was also the Ancestral Witch of Time, Zhu Jiuyin, and the Ancestral Witch of Weather, Shebishi...

Aside from Jumang, who was currently confronting Jimeng at the foot of the mountain, and another Ancestral Witch whose whereabouts were unknown, all ten of the remaining Ancestral Witches were gathered here!

Xuanqing's heart skipped a beat. He silently cursed, "This is bad."

What rotten luck. Trying to avoid the Demon Race, he had instead stumbled straight into the Witch Clan's lair.

The ten Ancestral Witches had clearly noticed him as well. Their oppressive gazes fell upon Xuanqing in unison.

"Oh? How did an outsider get here?"

The most hot-tempered, Zhurong, spoke first. His voice boomed like a great bell, shaking the surrounding rocks and stones. He stared at Xuanqing, his eyes full of scrutiny and hostility.

"Judging by his attire, he's from the Mysterious Gate?" The Ancestral Witch of Water, Gonggong, snorted coldly, his tone dripping with disdain.

Xuanqing's heart was filled with bitter complaints. He could sense that, aside from one Ancestral Witch whose aura was gentle and whose face bore a compassionate expression—Houtu, who was merely looking at him with curiosity—the eyes of the other nine Ancestral Witches were thick with enmity.

The Witch Clan, by nature, did not cultivate the Primordial Spirit, only tempering their physical bodies. They had never held any fondness for the Mysterious Gate's Daoist tradition of Primordial Spirit cultivation.

"Who are you? What business do you have at my Father God's Mount Buzhou?"

Dijiang, the leader, finally spoke. His voice was calm, yet it carried an unquestionable authority.

The laws of space swirled around him, as if with a single thought, he could banish Xuanqing into the endless void.

Xuanqing knew that now was not the time to show weakness.

He forcibly suppressed the unease in his heart, cupped his hands toward the assembled Ancestral Witches, and forced a smile onto his face that he hoped looked as harmless as possible.

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