Inside Pangu Hall, Dijiang's expression was icy. Killing intent surged to the heavens around him, his face seething with fury. A bitter chill shone in his dark yellow eyes as he stared coldly at Zhurong and the others.
If Zhurong and the others dared utter another word, he would strike them without a moment's hesitation.
This was Pangu Hall. As the Witch Clan's foremost Ancestral Shaman, he held absolute control here. Suppressing Zhurong and the others would be child's play.
"Hmph."
At the sight of Dijiang's anger, Zhurong and the others stiffened. After an awkward snort, they continued sitting cross-legged inside Pangu Hall and said no more.
Over the years, although Dijiang had seemed easygoing and put on no airs, every Ancestral Witch had remained deeply wary of their eldest brother.
Houyi and Xingtian's expressions tightened. They immediately lowered their heads, not daring to look at Dijiang again, then bowed and spoke.
"My lord, many of our tribes had noticed something before this happened, but..."
"But what?"
Before Xingtian could finish, Dijiang cut him off with a cold snort and a question.
An aura as vast as a sea of mist erupted in an instant, crashing onto Xingtian like hundreds of millions of mountains.
Boom!
Xingtian's mountain-like frame suddenly flew backward and slammed heavily into the wall of Pangu Hall.
Had Xingtian not been one of the finest Great Witches, his strength having reached the peak of the Great Luo Golden Immortal realm many years ago, that single blow might well have taken his life.
It was true that the Witch Clan cultivated only their bodies, not their primordial spirits, and were not skilled in scheming or divination. But mobilizing such a vast Demon Race army and gathering it from all corners necessarily took a long time.
Given that much