At the foot of Mount Buzhou, inside a towering great hall.
Xingtian, Kuafu, Houyi, and Jiufeng—Great Shamans whose names would resound through later ages—were all seated there. Before them, Xiangliu had also appeared in the hall.
"Xiangliu, is what you just said true? You should know what this means for our Witch Clan."
From the seat of honor, Xingtian looked gravely at Xiangliu.
Before the Twelve Ancestral Witches entered seclusion, Houtu had warned them time and again not to provoke Daochen.
Yet only a thousand years had passed since he sent Xiangliu out of Mount Buzhou with his people, and now Xiangliu claimed that Daochen had appeared within Witch Clan territory and rescued members of the Demon Race whom the clan had placed on its kill list.
The implications were worth pondering.
Whether Daochen had ties to those people or had simply happened to intervene while passing by, no one knew.
But this news had arrived just as the Twelve Ancestral Witches were about to emerge from seclusion and the struggle with the Three Pure Ones over the Pangu Orthodox Lineage was about to begin.
Xingtian could not help reading more into it.
"Xingtian, what do you mean? Do you think I would joke about something like this?"
At Xingtian's questioning, Xiangliu's temper flared. He rose straight to his feet and stared coldly at Xingtian.
You know nothing can go wrong at a critical moment like this, Xingtian. Do you think I don't?
I traveled hundreds of millions of miles back to Mount Buzhou to tell you this precisely so we could discuss it together and find a solution!
"Hmph. Only you know whether you're joking about this, Xiangliu. How would we know? If you think I've wronged you, then come and fight!"
Xingtian beckoned with his great hand, and