Above the Primordial Wilderness, time flew by. In the blink of an eye, several hundred years had passed. Since parting with Xihe and Yuehua, Mu Jizi and Kunpeng had never again encountered any great cultivators above the Daluo Golden Immortal realm!
The two continued wandering the Primordial Wilderness, but eventually grew bored and returned to Two Sages Island above the North Sea to contemplate the Heavenly Dao!
Thus, several thousand more years passed in the blink of an eye, and quite a few things had happened across the Primordial Wilderness!
Ever since Kunpeng created Demon Script, the cultivation of acquired Demon Cultivators throughout the Primordial Wilderness had advanced by leaps and bounds. In merely a few thousand years, experts had sprung up everywhere, and Demon Cultivators above the Heavenly Immortal realm were too numerous to count!
Looking at the Witch Race, however, their million witches had not increased in number. Though each of their physical divine abilities had improved, the stronger one became, the harder it was to advance. This was especially true for the witches, who cultivated no Primordial Spirits and trained only their bodies. Over several thousand years, they had all improved, yet compared to the Demon Race, they seemed somewhat overshadowed!
Still, the Witch Race had a solid foundation. Though their numbers were few, every one of them was exceptionally powerful. The Demon Race, on the other hand, had strength in sheer numbers, and among them were no lack of cultivators with overwhelmingly powerful cultivation!
To make an analogy, the witches of the Witch Race were like an elite squad of a thousand men in later generations, while the Demon Race was a vast army made up of hundreds of millions. No matter how formidable the squad was, it still fell short before an army. With so many people gathered together, how could there be any shortage of elites? A thousand commanders picked at random and formed into a squad would be enough to rival the Witch Race's warriors!
Fortunately, the Demon Race had not yet been unified. That "army of hundreds of millions" was led separately by countless commanders, divided into innumerable forces standing side by side like a forest. Caught in the middle, the Witch Race still lived freely and at ease!
Yet as the saying went, one mountain could not hold two tigers. Though the various Demon Race factions often fought among themselves, they seemed to possess an innate loathing for the Witch Race. Several factions established beside Mount Buzhou frequently joined forces to attack them!
Fortunately, the Witch Race possessed the Twelve Ancestral Shamans, whose strength was comparable to Daluo Golden Immortals. Though the twelve did not cultivate Primordial Spirits, their personal strength and wisdom were extraordinary. The power they displayed before the surrounding Demon Race factions filled those factions with alarm, thus keeping the witches safe!
At the foot of Mount Buzhou, stretching for ten thousand li, stood an enormous palace. Its aura was vast, ancient, and eternal. A hazy presence radiated from it as it rose amid endless forests. It did not seem out of place; rather, it felt as though it had always belonged there—mysterious beyond mystery!
Upon drawing nearer, one could see three great characters vaguely written above the palace. Those three characters seemed both real and unreal, without any discernible pattern. Yet upon seeing them, one could not help but read them silently within one's heart: Ancestral Shaman Hall!
At this moment, twelve thrones of equal height stood within the Ancestral Shaman Hall. Twelve figures of different appearances sat upon them, conversing casually!
Although the twelve sat there at ease, terrifying waves of magical power emanated from their bodies—ancient and eternal. A casual glance from any one of them could even annihilate countless living beings. A casual movement could stir the spiritual energy of heaven and earth into turmoil. A casual breath could raise gusts of wild wind!
Needless to say, these twelve were naturally the Twelve Ancestral Shamans of the Witch Race!
The group chatted casually, seemingly discussing something. Suddenly, a middle-aged red-haired man with bulging muscles and veins raised like Flood Dragons stood up and shouted at Dijiang:
"Elder Brother, those Demon Race bastards have gone too far! Such petty forces actually dare dream of destroying the million witches of our Witch Race. They are truly hateful!"
This red-haired middle-aged man was Zhurong, the Ancestral Shaman who controlled the laws of fire. Born with fire-based divine abilities, his temper was as violent as flickering flames!
"Elder Brother, give the word, and within one day, I will wipe out those several factions one after another!"
"When will you ever change that temper of yours?" Hearing this, Dijiang, whose two streaks of silver hair draped over his shoulders, could not help frowning slightly. He then said calmly, "I told you long ago that we cannot destroy those surrounding Demon Race factions. Do you still not understand?"
"Hmph!" Zhurong snorted in dissatisfaction. "Is it not simply because you fear the other Demon Race factions? With the strength of the twelve of us, who in the Primordial Wilderness can be our enemy? What is there to fear?"
"You!" Dijiang flared up, his heart burning with frustration as he said in disappointment, "We may not fear those demons, but what about the witches of our Witch Race? Are we to sacrifice our million witches merely for a moment of satisfaction?"
"This..." Zhurong was struck speechless. After thinking for a while, shame appeared on his face. "Elder Brother is right. I failed to think it through!"
"Hmph! Failed to think it through? Or did you simply treat my words as wind passing by your ears?" Dijiang's expression turned icy, and his sharp gaze made Zhurong wish he could find a crack in the ground and crawl into it!
"Elder Brother, do not be angry. Brother Zhurong has always had such a temperament; he cannot entirely be blamed!" At this moment, Houtu, whose face bore an expression of great compassion, spoke up to persuade him!
Several other Ancestral Shamans also joined in urging him to calm down. Only then did Dijiang's expression ease slightly. He sighed and said, "I am not blaming him. I merely lament that my own strength is insufficient, insufficient to lead our Witch Race toward glory!
"Elder Brother, what are you saying? Looking across the entire Primordial Wilderness, how many could possibly be your match?" Xuanming's delicate brows furrowed slightly as she said, "If even Elder Brother cannot lead our Witch Race toward glory, then how can we call ourselves the ancestors of the Witch Race?"
"Sister Xuanming speaks wisely! Elder Brother, do not belittle yourself!" Zhurong hurriedly echoed.
Seeing this, Dijiang felt as though a warm current had flowed into his heart, comforting him greatly. But once he thought of the perilous situation facing the Witch Race, his heart grew heavy again. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Brothers and sisters, say no more. I know well enough how much I am worth!"
After saying this, he could not help sighing again, a trace of sorrow appearing upon his face!
At the sight, Zhuyin, the time Ancestral Shaman who controlled the past and future, suddenly changed expression. His heart thudded, and a bad premonition rose within him!
After pondering for a long while without finding an answer, he asked in a deep voice, "Elder Brother, why is this? Have you encountered some difficulty?"
"This... alas..." Dijiang's face flickered with hesitation. He wished to speak, yet did not know where to begin. In the end, he could only let out another deep sigh!
The moment that sigh escaped, the extraordinarily wise Ancestral Shamans all sensed that something was amiss!
Zhurong said irritably, "Elder Brother, why are you sighing so heavily? You are making your own brothers feel stifled. If there is some difficulty, bring it out and let your brothers share the burden. That is better than Elder Brother brooding over it alone!"
"That is right! Brother Dijiang, what is there between the twelve of us that cannot be spoken of?"
"What difficulty could possibly frighten the twelve of us? Elder Brother, hurry and tell us so that we may discuss a plan! Do not keep it bottled up inside and suffer alone!"...
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