Di Jiang snorted. Blood Qi erupted around him, making the air tremble and hum.
"Yuanshi, what brings you here?"
His voice was rough, his hostility and wariness—rooted deep in his bloodline—utterly undisguised.
The Twelve Ancestral Witches and the Three Pure Ones were all descendants of Pangu, yet they had long been at odds over who represented the Pangu Orthodox Lineage.
The Three Pure Ones claimed they were formed from Pangu's Primordial Spirit, were the Orthodox Xuanmen, had received the Dao Ancestor's personal instruction, and held Heavenly Dao sainthood, looking down over the Great Wilderness.
The Twelve Ancestral Witches, meanwhile, were formed from Pangu's Blood Essence. They sought to Prove Dao With Strength, cultivated no Primordial Spirits, and showed no reverence for the Heavenly Dao. They considered themselves the true Pangu Orthodox Lineage.
Even now, with all three of the Three Pure Ones having become Sages, the Witch Clan had never truly bowed its head.
The Witch Clan especially loathed Primordial Heavenly Venerate, that supremely arrogant Sage Yuqing.
"I heard Ran Deng died. How come a Sage like you still has the leisure to visit my Witch Clan?"
Nearby, Solar True Fire surged wildly around Zhu Rong as he grinned and sneered, his voice full of undisguised mockery.
His hair blazed red like fire, his muscles bulged, and flames danced in his eyes, as though he might attack at any moment.
"What, your Chan Sect Vice Sect Master died, and now you can't sit still? Come to my Witch Clan to beg for help?"
"Or is it that your good Elder Brother Laozi had his Human Sect stripped from him and fell from the Saint Realm, and you, his little brother, are so embarrassed you've come to vent your anger on my Witch Clan?"
Every taunt struck home.
Ju Mang, Gong