"Witch Sage Seed?"
The High Tower Spirit sounded somewhat surprised. "Where did you hear about that?"
"The Witch King Contest? Ah, that. It used to be held frequently more than six hundred years ago, but it was never held again after that. I thought it had been abolished. I didn't expect it to be reopened?"
"Abolished?"
"Yes. Too many prospective Witch Kings died, so the Central Palace called a halt to it. They said that if it continued, Witch City would be left without any Witch Kings."
"It's already been five hundred years, huh? The number of prospective Witch Kings in Witch City has risen again, so they're preparing to reopen it? Makes sense. Though casualties are inevitable, even if they all die, as long as a Witch Sage can emerge from among them, it won't be a loss for the Witch Clan."
Listening to the High Tower Spirit, Li Su could not help but draw in a breath.
Not a loss!
Sure enough, it was impossible for those above not to know about a plan like the Witch King Contest, where prospective Witch Kings died in droves. Tens of thousands of prospective Witch Kings gone was no small matter—not something that could be brushed aside with a few casual words.
The Twelve Witch Ancestors probably knew as well.
After all, Hunyuan Daluo was no joke.
Unless a Saint acted to veil the heavenly secrets, or circumstances akin to an immeasurable great calamity arose, with their abilities, even if they did not concern themselves with matters below, there was no way they could fail to gather even a scrap of information.
The reason they had not intervened was probably right here.
Witch Sages!
And without question, to those higher up, the value of one Witch Sage was likely worth accepting