No matter how hard the Twelve Ancestral Witches racked their brains, they could not figure out where the aura of Pangu on Daochen had come from.
In the end, the Twelve Ancestral Witches could only attribute it to the boundless vastness of the Primordial World. Perhaps when their Father God Pangu fell, a drop or two of his blood essence really had scattered elsewhere and had yet to take form...
Unfortunately, Daochen knew nothing of their conjectures.
Otherwise, he would damned well have presented the Twelve Ancestral Witches with an award for being grand immortals of wild imagination.
If the Twelve Ancestral Witches had not dreamed up a "flawless" explanation themselves, Daochen really would not have known what to say if he had to explain it.
He could hardly say, I'm a transmigrator.
I have a system!
I'm a cheating bastard!
Not only do I have Pangu blood essence, I also have the Nine Revolutions Mystic Art...
If Daochen actually dared to say that, Hongjun and the Heavenly Dao would damned well come knocking immediately and slice him up like a lab rat for study.
An emerald flash streaked past, and Goumang appeared before Daochen again.
By now, Goumang's aura had fully recovered. Even the bones Daochen had shattered with a single punch had knitted back together.
A trace of surprise flashed through Daochen's eyes as he watched Goumang recover from his injuries so quickly.
He had to admit that, as the Yi Wood Ancestral Witch, Goumang might not be much of a fighter, but he could certainly take a beating.
Had any other Ancestral Witch taken that punch head-on without warning, even if they escaped severe injuries, minor injuries would have been unavoidable.
Yet even though Goumang's injuries had healed, his gaze remained somewhat uneasy as he looked at