The six Ancestral Witches, Dijiang included, stood with grim, shadowed expressions. They were lost in a deep, dark forest of thought, unable to pull themselves from the mire of their own disbelief.
They remained immersed in shock for a long, long time.
"Wait! How are Gonggong and the others faring?"
One Ancestral Witch suddenly snapped back to the present and shouted the question. Only then did the group turn their gazes toward Gonggong, Ju Mang, and Xi Zi, who lay upon the cold floor, their lives hanging by a single, frayed thread.
They had been so utterly preoccupied with the shock of the defeat that they had momentarily forgotten the dying.
Dijiang and the other five gathered around to inspect the fallen, their Faces growing increasingly solemn. The injuries were far more catastrophic than they had dared to imagine in the heat of their flight.
Ju Mang's entire Ancestral Witch physique had been physically shattered. That terrifying, alien power had pulverized every inch of bone and every drop of blood within him. His life force was draining away like water through a sieve, leaving only a final, desperate breath to sustain him.
The Ancestral Witches were renowned across the Great Desolation for their Physical Bodies; their flesh was their greatest Treasure Trove. Now that this treasure had been cracked open and broken, their very essence was slipping into the void.
As for the Water Ancestral Witch, Gonggong—a being who understood the essence of water better than any other—his body was currently being devoured by inextinguishable, solar flames. The fire was eating his life force from the inside out, mocking his innate element.
Then there was the Lightning Ancestral Witch, Xi Zi. He who specialized in the Law of lightning was now paralyzed by a superior bolt; his entire body was scorched black and brittle. Not a single patch of skin remained intact; he looked like a piece of rotten log that had been struck by the wrath of the heavens.
Just by looking at this miserable display, Dijiang and the others could sense the sheer brutality of the battle. It had not been a fight; it had been a systematic dismantling.
"Quick! Carry them into the heart of the Temple for healing!" Dijiang commanded immediately. The situation was beyond urgent; if they delayed another moment, these three would surely return to the embrace of their Father God.
"And you two as well! In such a critical state, why did you not inform me of the severity sooner!"
Dijiang berated Candle Nine Nethers, Houtu, and Qiang Liang. They had spent too much time talking, and if they had lingered any longer, the three brothers would have been lost forever.
The group of Ancestral Witches moved with delicate speed, carrying their three broken brethren into the depths of the Pangu Temple.
In the absolute center of the Pangu Temple lay the Blood Pool. It was vast and boundless, its thick blood Qi swirling upward like pillars of smoke, emitting an aura that was both ancient and grand.
With the utmost care, they lowered the three heavily injured Witches into the crimson depths.
Instantly, the once-calm Blood Pool became agitated and began to roar. It was as if the fluid had come alive, endowed with a consciousness of its own, as it wildly spread over Gonggong, Ju Mang, and Xi Zi, seeping hungrily into their open wounds.
For a moment, an inexplicable, primordial connection formed between the fallen and the Pool. Powerful heartbeats, sounding like morning bells and evening drums, began to shake the surface of the liquid.
The blood of the Pool permeated their shattered forms, forcefully surging into their nearly stopped hearts, kickstarting a rhythmic pulse. This blood contained an immense, concentrated life force, spreading everywhere and forcefully awakening their dormant, dying bodies.
Dijiang and the others watched with breath held and expressions solemn; even now, they couldn't be certain the three would survive. Thinking with the most optimism possible, even if they were saved, it would take countless eons to recover.
This meant that for a very long time, the Wu Clan would be deprived of the fighting strength of three full Ancestral Witches.
It was a staggering, tremendous loss.
"Big Brother! You must seek vengeance for our brothers!" Tian Wu, the Ancestral Witch of Wind, said with a voice thick with grief and indignation. His words were fueled by a cold, sharp rage.
This was the first true setback they had suffered since they began their journey across the world.
To them, it was simply unacceptable.
The Witches had always acted without restraint, crushing all who stood in their way. This sudden, violent blow meant their only thought was blood for blood!
After all, it had always been the Twelve Ancestral Witches who struck down the world; when had the tables ever been turned?
Hearing the cry for war, Dijiang spoke with a heavy note of self-reproach. "It is my own fault for not keeping us together as one. If all Twelve Ancestral Witches had marched together this time, this tragedy would never have occurred."
As he spoke, a bloody Killing Intent flickered in his eyes. If the twelve of them had gone out as a single fist, who cared if it were the Three Crows or the Three Pure Ones? None would have stood a chance; all would have been crushed beneath their heels!
How could his three brothers have been allowed to suffer such harm?
"Big Brother! I cannot stomach this! Let us storm the Sun Star and take our revenge!" Zhu Rong, the God of Fire, was a furnace of rage. Such a monumental humiliation could not go unavenged for a single day!
He did not want to wait for another heartbeat.
At these words, most of the Ancestral Witches were swayed by their innate aggression. However, those who had actually experienced the physical torment of Ling Xiao's strikes did not share the enthusiasm. They felt the idea required significantly more consideration.
Houtu spoke up immediately, her voice earnest and sharp. "Big Brother, we must not! Now is not the time for a revenge mission; to do so would only grant the Yao Race a golden opportunity!"
"What opportunity? If those beasts dare to cause trouble, we will simply beat them all to death!" Zhu Rong barked back, not taking the Yao Race seriously in the slightest.
Houtu was choked with a sudden anger and was about to retort when Qiang Liang, standing nearby, interjected with a hesitant cough:
"Um... listen to me for a moment. Actually... I suspect the nine of us might not be able to defeat the Three Crows. Think about it—the six of us Ancestral Witches couldn't even beat the one named Ling Xiao. Now, we'd be facing him along with two more Golden Crows."
"Furthermore, the Three Crows are not even on the Sun Star right now. They have occupied the Immortal Island!"
As soon as he finished, every Ancestral Witch turned to look at Qiang Liang with a look of bewildered strangeness. Had his brain been physically damaged in the fight?
His usual temperament—the one that saw him rushing to the forefront of every massacre—had changed so drastically.
How could he utter such disheartened words?
Yet, as they thought about it carefully, what Qiang Liang said possessed a grim logic. But even if it were logical, they couldn't possibly admit it.
Admit that the Ancestral Witches were physically inferior to the Golden Crows?
Admit that nine of them couldn't beat three—or perhaps even just one—of them?
"Qiang Liang, we are the orthodox lineage of Pangu. Our Father God stands tall through us. Do not dare speak such disheartening words in the future."
Dijiang reprimanded him with a stern Face, reasserting his authority as the eldest. In that split second, however, he had felt a one-thousandth of a chance that Qiang Liang was actually right.
Analyzing the situation with cold reason: six Ancestral Witches went out, and three were returned in pieces. Could nine guarantee a victory?
Furthermore, if they sought revenge now, even if they performed beyond their limits and defeated the Three Crows, the Yao Race would undoubtedly seize the moment to launch a surprise attack from the rear.
They might even inadvertently push the Golden Crows back toward the main Yao Race forces, creating a unified front. That was a scenario that absolutely could not be allowed to happen.
With this thought, Dijiang coughed lightly and said, "We shall let the Golden Crows be for now. When our three brothers finally recover and return, would it not be more satisfying for them to take their revenge personally?"
He had crafted an excuse that saved their collective Face and sounded reasonable, earning immediate cheers from the others. Nearly every Ancestral Witch latched onto the logic.
"The immediate priority is to flatten the Yao Race as quickly as possible," Dijiang announced, his eyes flashing with a sharp, tactical light.
"Qiang Liang just mentioned that during the battle on the Immortal Island, the Yao Race also suffered devastating losses. This is our chance."
Dijiang's voice rose in volume, his gaze sweeping the room.
"Good! Let us slaughter the Yao Race! If it weren't for those beasts, we would never have been lured to the Immortal Island in the first place!" Qiang Liang immediately regained his excitement, eager to lead a charge that didn't involve Ling Xiao.
The other Ancestral Witches felt the truth in his words, and their Killing Intent toward the Yao Race intensified to a fever pitch...
Meanwhile.
The Hundred Thousand Great Mountains, the main camp of the Yao Race.
The atmosphere within the halls was suffocatingly heavy. Many of the seats that were once filled with proud commanders were now empty.
Kunpeng had been physically torn apart and had not yet returned to the camp; no one knew which corner of the world he was hiding in to lick his wounds.
Of the Ten Great Demons, several would never return. They had been melted into the Great Sun by Ling Xiao during the battle, their physical forms and their very spirits utterly destroyed.
Feidan, Qinyuan, Citie, and Shangyang—four of the Great Demons—had perished on the spot.
The remaining six were Baize, Ji Meng, Yingzhao, Feilian, Guiche, and Jiuying.
These Ten Great Demons represented the most powerful backbone of the Yao Race aside from Nuwa, Kunpeng, and Fuxi. To lose four of them in a single afternoon was a devastating, crippling blow to their hierarchy.
Fuxi, who had remained at the main camp to hold the fort, had never imagined such a catastrophe could occur.
The already struggling Yao Race had just suffered a crushing, historic setback.
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