The War of the Liches was the most important event the Witch Race had faced since its birth. Naturally, Houtu could not simply stand by and do nothing. Though it was inconvenient for her to show herself, she had plenty of ways to help the Witch Race.
Watching Houtu leave, Gungun blinked. Once she disappeared, he lowered the paw he had been wiping his tears with, raised his head, and took a deep breath.
Who was the most remarkable god in the Primordial World?
Naturally, it was me.
What other Quasi-Saint had such a broad heart, could bend and straighten as circumstances demanded, and could cry on command?
Dijun, you actually dared attack someone as remarkable as me. You were bound to suffer retribution for that. And now, your retribution had arrived, hadn't it?
I'm the Witch Scribe. Dijun attacked me during the truce, so if the Witch Race used that as grounds to begin its final battle with the Demon Race ahead of time, even the Dao Ancestor... would have trouble intervening, wouldn't he? A serious expression appeared on Gungun's face.
Then he turned his gaze toward the Western Lands.
Although the Demon Race had lost its Heavenly Empress and Eastern Emperor, its remaining strength was far from negligible. Dijun in particular, wielding the Hetu Luoshu, was the second strongest beneath the Saints... no, he should now count as the strongest beneath the Saints in the Primordial World. To destroy a mighty figure like him, the Witch Race would have to pay a price. If another... several other powers could share that burden, so much the better.
Gungun pondered this for a while, then got up on all fours and followed Houtu out of the Earth Emperor Hall.
Before long, Gungun lay on the main seat in the