Transmigration into the Primordial World, Pangu's Legacy

Pan Xuan had just recovered from his dizziness when a chaotic blur greeted his vision.

He struggled to open his eyes, only to feel as though he were enveloped in a layer of viscous, warm current. His limbs and bones were entirely beyond his control.

Before he could even contemplate his whereabouts or what had transpired, he sensed twelve terrifying auras, deep and abyssal as prisons, surrounding him.

They were twelve gargantuan figures that stood tall enough to touch the heavens.

No. As soon as this thought surfaced in Pan Xuan's consciousness, a torrent of information, so vast it defied description, slammed violently into his soul.

It felt as if the entire chaos had exploded within his mind; the first thunderous roar from the dawn of creation echoed in the depths of his soul.

Inherited memories.

The creation of the world.

Pangu.

Countless images flashed by like a revolving lantern: chaos like a cosmic egg, a giant wielding a massive axe, cleaving the heavens with a single strike, separating the clear from the murky.

The giant stood between heaven and earth; the sky rose ten feet higher each day, the earth grew ten feet thicker each day, and the giant grew ten feet taller each day.

The giant fell. His breath became wind and clouds, his voice became thunder, his left eye became the sun, his right eye became the moon, his limbs and body became the four poles and five sacred mountains, and his blood became the rivers.

His veins became the geography, his muscles became the fields and soil, his hair and beard became the stars, his skin and fur became the vegetation, his teeth and bones became gold and stone, his marrow became pearls and jade, and his sweat became the rain...

Finally, the image froze on a wisp of mysterious yellow energy.

It was the noble, righteous energy that had surged from the chest of Father God Pangu at the moment of his passing.

It had intertwined with the merit of creation from the void, which in turn had stirred the very first wisp of mysterious yellow energy from the dawn of the world.

The three fused, and after passing through infinite eons, they had birthed a living creature.

A Nine-Clawed Golden Dragon.

It was him.

Pan Xuan's consciousness became completely clear at this moment.

He understood.

He had transmigrated, transmigrated into this Primordial World.

He had transmigrated into this Nine-Clawed Golden Dragon, formed from the fusion of Pangu's noble energy, the merit of creation, and the mysterious yellow energy of heaven and earth.

And at this very moment, he was being watched by twelve terrifying existences.

Pan Xuan endured the swelling pain in his soul brought on by the inherited memories and, through the wrapping of mysterious yellow energy, cautiously sensed the outside world.

With this perception, he was nearly frightened out of his wits.

Surrounding him were the legendary Twelve Ancestral Witches, the twelve terrifying beings formed from the essence blood of Pangu!

To the due east, a god-demon shaped like a yellow sack, red as cinnabar fire, with six feet and four wings, formless and faceless, radiated a terrifying fluctuation that caused space itself to distort. This was Di Jiang, the Ancestral Witch of space and speed.

Beside Di Jiang, a god-demon with a human face and snake body, entirely crimson, a thousand miles in length, seemed to possess the power of shifting eons within the closing of its eyes. This was Zhu Jiuyin, the Ancestral Witch of time.

To the due south, a god-demon with a beast's head and human body, clad in red scales, with fire snakes piercing its ears and treading on fire dragons, was wreathed in raging flames. This was Zhu Rong, the Ancestral Witch of fire.

Opposite Zhu Rong, a god-demon with a python head and human body, clad in black scales, treading on black dragons, with green pythons coiled around its hands and surrounded by water vapor, was Gong Gong, the Ancestral Witch of water.

To the southwest, a god-demon in the shape of a hideous giant beast, with bone spurs growing backward and a chilling aura that seemed capable of freezing all things, was Xuan Ming, the Ancestral Witch of rain.

There was also Jumang, green as emerald bamboo, with a bird's body and human face, riding two dragons, full of vibrant vitality; Rushou, with a human face and tiger body, clad in golden scales, wings growing from his shoulder blades, a snake piercing his left ear, riding two dragons, shining with golden light;

Qiangliang, with a snake in his mouth and snakes in his hands, a tiger's head and human body, four hooves, with thunder and lightning roaring around him; Xizi, with a human face and bird body, green snakes hanging from his ears, holding red snakes, wreathed in electric snakes; Shebishi, with a human face and beast body, a snake in his mouth and snakes in his hands, a tiger's head and human body, four hooves, surrounded by poisonous mist; and Tianwu, with eight heads and a human face, a tiger's body and ten tails, with wild winds howling.

And finally Houtu, with a human face and snake body, seven arms growing from her back, holding a soaring snake in her hands before her chest; though she shared the terrifying form of the other Ancestral Witches, she was the only one whose aura was gentle and compassionate.

The Twelve Ancestral Witches, all appearing in their true forms!

Pan Xuan gasped inwardly. These were the legendary Twelve Ancestral Witches formed from Pangu's essence blood, the masters of the Witch Clan!

And at this moment, he was lying in Pangu Hall, surrounded by these twelve terrifying existences.

Memories continued to surface; he had been discovered by the Ancestral Witch Houtu.

When Houtu was climbing Mount Buzhou, she had sensed an aura of the same origin as her own and followed the trail.

She had found him while he was still gestating in a hidden place where the mysterious yellow energy gathered and brought him back to Pangu Hall.

A complex emotion welled up in Pan Xuan's heart. The Ancestral Witch Houtu, that compassionate and kind-hearted Ancestral Witch, was the first person he had to face after waking.

"My brothers, have you discerned anything?"

A soft female voice rang out, carrying a hint of concern and confusion. The voice actually came from the mouth of that terrifying god-demon with a human face, snake body, and seven arms.

Pan Xuan's heart stirred; so, even in her true form, Houtu's voice was this gentle.

"Strange," Di Jiang spoke. His voice seemed to come from the endless void; though his formless, faceless head lacked a mouth or nose, the sound vibrated nonetheless.

"This thing is clearly of the same origin as us, all born of Father God, but its aura... it is too pure, not like something formed from essence blood."

"Brother Di Jiang is right," Zhu Rong's massive beast-headed human body nodded, flames flickering in his mouth.

"We were formed from Father God's essence blood and are born with Father God's intent for battle and slaughter.

But this little thing... its aura is peaceful and upright; it even faintly carries a bit of that compassion Father God had for enlightening all things."

"Zhu Rong, you don't know a damn thing!" Gong Gong whipped his python head around, his black scales shimmering.

"What kind of mercy could your fire possibly burn out? In my opinion, this little thing might be the manifestation of some origin of Father God that we are unfamiliar with."

"Gong Gong! Are you looking for a fight?" Zhu Rong roared in fury at these words, flames leaping up around his body as fire dragons and fire snakes danced wildly about him.

"Enough."

Di Jiang spoke calmly, the power of space vibrating slightly. With a light stomp of his six legs, Zhu Rong and Gong Gong immediately quieted down.

Clearly, Di Jiang held immense prestige among the Twelve Ancestral Witches.

"Zhu Jiuyin, can you see anything?" Di Jiang turned toward the Ancestral Witch with a human face and snake body, whose very presence caused the flow of time to distort.

Zhu Jiuyin opened eyes that seemed to contain the turning of the ages, staring at Pan Xuan for a long time before speaking slowly:

"This thing... is different from us. It possesses the power of time, yet it exists beyond time itself. I can only see a void of chaos; I cannot discern its origin."

"Even you cannot see through it?" Shebishi asked in surprise, the snake held in the mouth of his tiger-headed, human-bodied form hissing.

Xuan Ming, the terrifying giant beast covered in bone spurs, spoke coldly, her voice like ice from the Nine Netherworlds:

"The cold on its body is different from my origin.

My cold is the cold of slaughter, the cold of destruction; its aura... is as gentle as jade, without a shred of killing intent."

The Twelve Ancestral Witches discussed the matter heatedly, gathering around the Nine-Clawed Golden Dragon to study it.

Pan Xuan curled up nervously, wrapped in the Xuanhuang energy, and remained perfectly still.

He dared not move. He still did not know what these Ancestral Witches' attitudes toward him were.

What if they discovered he had gained sentience and decided to refine him as some kind of monster?

He had to remember, this was the Primordial World! It was a Primordial World of saintly schemes, grandmaster gambits, and survival of the fittest!

Although his origin was extraordinary, he had not yet fully taken shape and his strength was pitifully low; any one of these Ancestral Witches could destroy him with a single breath.

"Brothers," Houtu's voice sounded once more, "I have something to say."