Dijiang finished speaking, his face brimming with excitement.
Brilliant light shot from his huge, bell-like eyes. A savage, primeval aura surged around him without end, as though he were a volcano on the verge of eruption.
Before his voice had faded, equally burly figures followed behind him, one after another.
Zhu Jiuyin's expression was cold and grim. Fluctuations of the laws of time coiled around him, so dense they were almost tangible, while a rare flush of excitement touched his narrow eyes.
Zhurong had the fieriest temper of them all. His long crimson hair stirred without wind, and the laws of flame pulsed around his body, making him look like a fire god who had stepped out of the ancient Primordial World.
Gonggong's face was dark and brooding. Mist wreathed his body, and inky streams of water wound around him like flood dragons. His gloomy eyes, too, were filled with excitement he could no longer suppress.
Goumang, Ru Shou, Tian Wu, Shebishi, Yanzi, Xuanming, Qiangliang, Xizi...
The Twelve Ancestral Witches had gathered!
Every face bore excitement that could not be concealed.
It was no ordinary joy or exhilaration.
It was a... resonance that came from deep within their bloodline, an instinct etched into their very marrow.
It was as though the drop of Pangu essence blood flowing within each of them had begun to boil the instant it sensed that Dao rhythm.
At the sight, Houtu smiled knowingly.
The Witch Clan had never revered Heaven and Earth or honored Sages.
Even the so-called Dao Ancestor Hongjun was, in their eyes, merely someone who had risen to power through Heavenly Dao authority, hardly a supreme being.
From beginning to end, the Witch Clan had revered only one person.
Pangu.
They called him "Father God."
For the Witch Clan had been born