Chapter 388

Nüwa's gaze pierced the endless Chaos, landing on the primordial earth where the storm gathered.

In the depths of her pupils, there was no turning of sun and moon, no birth and death of stars, only an inseparable, thick deathly gray.

That was calamity qi.

It was heaven and earth wailing, it was the Great Dao warning.

As a Heavenly Dao saint, she could hear the death knell from the end of fate more clearly than any living being.

This time, it was different.

Past struggles, even if rivers of blood flowed, were merely a ripple in the evolution of heaven and earth.

But this time, it was a boundless wave capable of overturning the entire era.

It was the true Great Calamity.

Under this wave, even saints were not omnipotent, let alone others.

And her brother, Fuxi, stood right at the center of the wave.

That deathly crisis, capable of tearing a quasi-saint's Dao body and wearing away an immortal true spirit, was like a substantive shadow that had already shrouded Fuxi's fate.

How could Nüwa just sit and watch!

She could ignore the rise and fall of the Demon Court, could disregard Di Jun's life or death, but she could not bear to watch her own brother walk toward that destined death road.

A flick of her fingertip, a speck of profound Dao rhyme silently spread, crossing space and time, precisely landing in the Demon Court.

This was the last attempt.

……

Inside Nüwa Palace, a ripple spread through space.

A towering figure stepped out, his whole body entwined with brilliant starlight and fervent battle intent, casting this cold palace in a fiercer glow.

The one who came was precisely the Demon Court's Emperor Xi, Fuxi.

"Little sister summoned me here—what for?!"

His voice was sonorous, with a noticeable urgency.

"The Demon Court is in great motion, war is imminent—I cannot linger here any longer."

Fuxi did not conceal it.

That heaven‑shrouding killing qi, the mobilization of the Demon Race's countless army, were no longer secret.

Moreover, before his saintly little sister, any concealment was meaningless.

He simply didn't understand; at such a critical moment, why would his little sister suddenly summon him?

Nüwa gazed at him silently, seeing the irrepressible vigor and anticipation in his brow.

That was a warrior's yearning.

It was an eager readiness to try his mettle in the imminent battle.

And this was precisely Nüwa's deepest worry.

She did not directly answer Fuxi's question; the air in the palace seemed to grow a few degrees colder.

After a long while, she finally spoke softly, her voice ethereal yet carrying an undeniable solemnity.

"Brother."

"This time, in the ultimate war between witches and demons, you must absolutely not take part."

As soon as she spoke, the silence of the Nüwa Imperial Palace seemed to be broken.

Fuxi's fervent fighting spirit stalled instantly.

Nüwa's gaze was calm as water, and she continued:

"Now, the calamitous energy between heaven and earth is unprecedentedly thick."

"This is no ordinary skirmish; it is already the true might of the Great Calamity."

Each word she uttered stated a terrifying fact that only a sage could perceive.

"Under the sages, all face the danger of falling."

She hoped that with these plain words, Fuxi would realize the horror of this battle, retreat, and preserve himself.

However, Fuxi's reaction caused her heart to sink gradually.

Only saw Fuxi's brows knit instantly; the fighting spirit that had just stalled turned into an even firmer will.

His voice was no longer urgent, but turned low and deep, filled with a certain wrathful dignity.

"Little sister!"

"Now that the Demon Race's great war is imminent, as the Xi Emperor of the Demon Court, how could I possibly flee the battlefield, committing such heartless and unjust conduct?!"

He swept his hand violently, and the surrounding space trembled.

"If you summoned me here only for this matter, then there is no need for further words."

Disappointment.

Fuxi's eyes revealed undisguised disappointment.

He thought that his little sister, the sage of the primordial wilderness, would understand his position, his Dao.

But he never imagined that, by this moment, she would still be urging him to sever ties with the Demon Race.

To Fuxi, this amounted to betrayal.

He could not accept it!

Regarding his elder brother's deep-seated obstinacy, Nüwa had long been aware.

If it were not so, he would not be Fuxi.

But today, she must continue speaking.

Her tone softened; the supreme majesty of a sage quietly receded, leaving only the earnest anxiety of a sister.

Brother, I know your feelings.

But the karmic ties between my sibling and I and the Demon Court have long been settled.

Nüwa's voice echoed in the vast palace, carrying a hint of distance.

"In the past, Di Jun and Taiyi invited us to preside over the Heavenly Court; my sibling and I helped them arrange the stars of the heavens and suppress the primordial qi, and that is a karmic bond."

Later, when I attained the Dao and became a saint, I also once protected the Demon Race; that too is a karmic bond.

Even...

Nüwa paused, a hint of complexity flashing in her eyes.

"Even the Demon Race, in forging the Slayer Witch Sword, slaughtered the humans I created, staining themselves with boundless bloody karma."

I, recalling our old affection, have not settled accounts with them, which already repays all of the past.

So, brother.

Nüwa stepped forward, gazing directly into Fuxi's eyes.

"You now have no need to share life and death with Di Jun and Taiyi."

The exalted Saint Nüwa, whose words become law and whose mouth bears heavenly edicts.

Now, only before this older brother of hers does she reveal such a pleading demeanor, earnest and heartfelt, each word dripping with blood.

She has laid everything out clearly.

Karmic ties are settled, affection exhausted.

You, Fuxi, owe nothing to the Demon Race.

However, Fuxi's response was only a single word.

A word that cuts like nail and iron, shaking the universe.

"Impossible!"

He firmly refused.

That single word contains his entire will, allowing no wavering.

"Even if the karmic debt is cleared, I am now the Emperor Xi of the Demon Court!"

Fuxi's voice suddenly rose, his gaze blazing as if two suns burned within.

"At this critical juncture of life and death for hundreds of millions of demons, if I were to retreat in battle, would I not be the first to shake the demon army's morale?!"

His voice echoed throughout every corner of Nüwa's Imperial Palace, filled with power and resolve.

"When that happens, once the army's heart scatters, the demon race will fall faster and die more miserably!"

"That would be a true heaven-overturning catastrophe for the entire demon race!"

Fuxi stepped forward, his imperial bearing fully displayed, faintly rivaling Nüwa's saintly majesty.

"How could I ignore the lives of hundreds of millions of demons?!"

Obviously.

By now, the relationship between Fuxi and the demon race can no longer be summed up by the illusory notion of karma.

It is the camaraderie forged from fighting side by side since time immemorial.

It is the shared responsibility when reviving the demon race.

It is the deep reverence and trust countless demon mighty ones and hundreds of millions of demon soldiers and generals hold for him, their Emperor Xi.

These have long since become something heavier and hotter than mere karma.

It is affection, it is righteousness.

It is the Dao by which Fuxi stands firm in this primordial wilderness!

He knows Nüwa means well, concerned for his safety.

But Fuxi absolutely refuses to be a coward who clings to life in disgrace, abandoning his comrades-in-arms.

Hearing his words, Nüwa was utterly helpless.

Within Nüwa's Imperial Heaven, each surge of the chaotic flow weighed heavily upon the heart.

At the end of words lies dead silence.

A dead silence that even a saint feels powerless against.

In an instant, a flash of fierce color passed through Nüwa's eyes.

In the depths of those normally compassionate, gentle saint's eyes, something shattered.

A point of extreme cold burst from the deepest part of her pupils, instantly infecting her entire eye sockets.

That was not killing intent, yet it was more heart‑pounding than killing intent.

That was the manifestation of a saint's will, an absolute power capable of freezing time and overturning heaven and earth.

The entirety of Nüwa's Imperial Heaven, this saint's dojo, trembled violently due to this ripple in her mood.

The previously gentle flowing chaotic currents suddenly solidified, turning into countless invisible blades that hovered around Fuxi, sealing off all his vitality, qi fortune, and even every future possibility.

It only takes a single thought from Nüwa.

Just a single thought.

Then Fuxi would be completely suppressed here, cut off from all external ties, imprisoned in this eternal Chaos until the Great Calamity ends.

With her power as a Heavenly Dao Saint, achieving this within Nüwa's Imperial Heaven requires no effort at all.

She could even weave a perfect illusion for her brother, letting him safely pass through this calamity within this tiny space.

This thought is so tempting.

It is like the sweetest poison, wildly proliferating in the depths of Nüwa's heart.

If she does this, her brother will not die.

He will be eternally safe.

However, this resolute will, upon reaching its peak, receded like a tide.

Nüwa's fingertip trembled slightly within her sleeve.

The chill that could have frozen the entire training hall dissipated silently.

She still gave up.

Nothing else!

Nüwa understood her brother better than any living being in the primordial world.

Fuxi, an innate divine sage, of noble lineage, with wisdom that reaches the heavens.

He cultivates the Dao of deduction and masters the changes of heavenly secrets.

His pride, his Dao, are rooted in perceiving the heavenly mandate, following it, and even… tampering with it.

It leaves him standing aside, shrinking under his own wings, watching helplessly as the Demon Race, to which he has devoted endless effort, is annihilated in the Great Calamity's slaughter.

That is crueler than killing him.

If I were to truly intervene forcefully, I would detain him in Nüwa's Heaven.

Then perhaps the final outcome could preserve Fuxi's life.

But his Dao heart would inevitably shatter bit by bit, reduced to dust.

Is a Fuxi who has lost his Dao still Fuxi?

Merely an empty shell possessing great power but devoid of a soul.

A walking corpse imprisoned in this splendid prison of Nüwa's Heaven.

That, for Fuxi, would be a truly irreparable blow.

It is a more utter annihilation than death and the disappearance of the Dao.

Nüwa closed her eyes; when she opened them again, the icy chill at the bottom of her gaze had vanished, leaving only endless fatigue and bitterness.

As a sage who overlooks all beings, she ought to have a mind like still water, unmoved by external things.

Yet in the face of this blood‑related kinship, even the sage's Dao fruition appears so pale.

In the end, Nüwa could only repeatedly admonish herself in her heart.

Enough.

Let him be.

At worst…

At worst, during the critical moment of the witch‑demon battle, I will send forth a thread of sage thought to watch over him constantly.

Should his life be endangered, I will act without hesitation, even if it risks karma from the Great Calamity and a backlash from the Heavenly Dao, forcibly rending the battlefield to shield his true spirit.

This is all she can do, and all she dares to do.

Long while, long while.

Long enough to seem as endless as an eon.

The congealed Chaos currents within Nüwa's Heaven only then began to flow again, slowly.

Nüwa let out a wistful sigh that softly echoed in this silent space, carrying endless desolation and helplessness.

"Since elder brother insists on this, younger sister has nothing more to say."

Her voice was soft, yet it struck heavily upon Fuxi's heart.

Upon hearing it, Fuxi's tense body finally relaxed a little.

He knew his younger sister had ultimately compromised.

She had given up using sage power to forcibly intervene in his choice.

For a moment, Fuxi was speechless.

He merely lifted his head and glanced guiltily at his sister.

He saw in the depths of her eyes the fatigue and pain that had not yet fully faded.

He knew how agonizing his resolve was for her.

Since their birth on Mount Buzhou, the siblings have accompanied each other, passing through countless aeons.

As an elder brother, he not only failed to be his sister's reliance, but repeatedly caused her to worry and fear for him.

From listening to the Dao in the Purple Cloud Palace, to establishing the Demon Race, and now to this unavoidable Great Calamity.

Each time, she has stood before him.

Fuxi's throat moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something.

Either an "sorry," or "I've worried you."

But when the words reached his lips, they felt utterly hollow and powerless.

In the face of such a weighty destiny, any words seem superfluous.

His Dao does not allow him to retreat.

The fate of countless Demon Race beings hinges on his deductions.

If he retreats, the heavens of the Demon Race will truly collapse.

In the end, all guilt, reluctance, and gratitude condensed into a single deep gaze.

Thereafter, Fuxi turned decisively.

He had no hesitation or delay.

His splendid Daoist robe, embroidered with the River Chart and Luo Book patterns, traced a resolute arc as he turned.

With a single step, his figure reached the edge of Nüwa's Heaven.

Another step, and he would completely leave this sage's pure land, returning to the storm‑tossed, peril‑filled Thirty‑Three Heavens Demon Court.

There lies his duty.

He had his battlefield.

And also he…… his own destiny, long foreseen.

……

The sages reacted variously.

Above the nine heavens, a sage lowered his gaze, his fingertips subtly tugging at the threads of cause and effect, then let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes, silent.

On Kunlun Mountain, Yuanshi's face was expressionless; only in those eyes that overlooked the ages did the chill grow ever more bone‑deep.

And on Mount Sumeru in the West, Jieyin and Zhunti exchanged a glance; on their usual faces of suffering, there unexpectedly appeared a hint of something elusive.

Between heaven and earth, that invisible killing qi grew ever more dense.

It was no longer an illusory, vague perception.

It turned into a tangible chill, making the mountain streams sluggish, silencing the beasts and birds in the forests, and cloaking even the hardiest plants with a layer of ashen death‑qi.

Tribulation qi.

Rising from the Nine Netherworld Palace, it seeped in from the chaos beyond the heavens.

Finally, like a hundred rivers returning to the sea, it all flowed into the fortune‑currents of the Wu Clan and the Demon Race.

Gradually, all beings of the wilderness clearly sensed that the two colossal entities lurking between heaven and earth were awakening.

The Wu Clan's Twelve Ancestral Witches no longer slumbered in the Pangu Hall.

Strands of turbid killing qi shot up to the heavens, stirring wind and cloud, shaking the earth—this was the purest, most primal proclamation of power.

In the Heavenly Court of the Demon Race, too, there was the fire of the Golden Crow, burning the heavens and boiling the seas, proclaiming the supremacy of the Heavenly Emperor.

Threads of killing intent, icy to the extreme, spread from within the Wu Clan and the Demon Race, intertwining, colliding, sweeping across the nine heavens and ten earths.

The feeling of rising winds and surging clouds grew ever clearer.

Every living being's spiritual awareness was shrouded in a gloom so oppressive it made breathing difficult.

The Great Tribulation approaches!

These four characters are no longer legend or deduction, but a sword hanging over every living being's head.

At last!

One day!

The apparent surface tranquility was utterly shattered by a thunderous roar that pierced the universe!

On that day, beyond the thirty‑three heavens, at the supreme realm where the Demon Race's Heavenly Court resides, a world‑shaking heavenly sound suddenly exploded.

Boom—rumble—rumble!

That was not thunder.

The sound of thunder still lies within the Heavenly Dao, traceable.

This sound originated beyond the heavens, yet it echoed in the depths of every living being's heart, shaking their souls to the brink of rupture and making their true spirits sway.

Its sound rolled like myriad gods and demons beating war drums; upon second hearing, it seemed as if endless stars were collapsing and shattering.

In almost an instant, from the highest Golden Immortals of the Great Luo down to lowly ants, countless beings felt it in their hearts.

All living beings, regardless of what they were doing, ceased all activity.

Their faces changed dramatically, their souls trembled, and in unison they turned their gaze toward the source of the sound.

Beyond the thirty‑three heavens!

"The Demon Race!"

"It is the Demon Race… they have finally acted!"

A mighty one lost his voice in a whisper, his tone trembling uncontrollably.

Indeed!

Accompanying that heaven‑shaking Dao sound, it swept forth.

In the next instant, the scene beyond the thirty‑three heavens also became horrifically terrifying, shocking the mind and spirit.

Whoosh……

Whoosh……

All beings only heard waves of celestial music drifting down; the sound was no longer the earlier explosion, but had become a regular, indifferent rhythm like the surge of tides.

That was the sound of war boots shattering the void.

That was the sound of banners tearing the heavens.

That was the sound of the breaths of myriad beings gathering into a storm.

Next, the endless Demon Race came into the world.

First came a golden light that tore open the barrier of the thirty‑three heavens.

Then came a second, a third, countless more!

Myriad strands of golden light converged into an endless golden ocean that poured down from beyond the heavens.

As far as the eye could see, what kind of sight was this?

Blocking out the sky and covering the sun!

At this moment, that word seemed so pale and powerless.

The sky had vanished.

The sun, too, had lost its radiance.

The entire primordial world was engulfed by this golden flood, boundless and vast as misty waves, with no horizon in sight.

Its immense magnitude was enough to drain any words of color.

At the very front of the formation.

Di Jun.

Taiyi.

The two brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, wearing golden-flame Dao robes embroidered with a three-legged golden crow swallowing and spitting the great sun using divine gold threads; the robe's corners rustled in the chaotic void currents, and each sway seemed capable of tearing apart a world.

Di Jun wore an imperial crown, his visage stern; within his eyes lay the indifference of the universe's birth and death, the turning of the galaxies.

Taiyi embraced the Chaos Bell, his gaze domineering; his entire being was surrounded by an aura that suppressed the ages and declared sole supremacy.

Just the two of them made the primordial earth below tremble uncontrollably.

Behind them.

The Demon Master Kunpeng lurked in the shadows, his aura deep and icy, his eyes seeming able to devour all light.

Xi Huang Fuxi held the Fuxi qin, his expression complex; the strings moved without wind, plucking the strings of fate for all beings.

After them came Bai Ze, Ji Meng, Ying Zhao, Fei Lian… the ten great demon saints stood in a line, each emanating a formidable aura, immense pressure, behind each was the boundless demon god they commanded.

Lastly, there were the ordinary demon race, numbered in the hundreds of millions.

They varied in form—mountain beasts, deep-sea ferocious creatures, flying divine birds—but in every demon's eyes burned the same fervor and fighting spirit.

Such a sight had rarely been seen since ancient times.

Magnificent!

Peerless!

Seeing this, countless reclusive masters and ancient titans couldn't help but draw a cold breath, feeling a chill surge from their feet to the crown of their heads.

"Hiss…"

"The demon race! How… how is this possible?!"

An antique who had survived countless aeons spoke with a trembling voice.

"In the past, during the first Wu-Yao war, the Zhou Tian Star Dou Grand Formation was shattered, and the demon race's elite losses exceeded seventy percent; their vital energy was gravely wounded—how could…"

He hadn't finished speaking, yet everyone understood his meaning.

Another expert's pupils contracted to the limit as he stared fixedly at the endless demon army.

"Numbers… I feel that the demon race now is more numerous than before the ancient war?!"

Upon these words, all directions fell silent.

"Exactly! They are more numerous!"

A quasi-sage adept in the art of divination spoke with unwavering certainty, his face pale; evidently, in that instant he had glimpsed a fragment of heavenly secrets, and thus paid the price.

"The myriad demons gathered here— their breeding speed is truly shocking to the world!"

Exactly!

All those who grasped the truth felt tremendous upheaval in their hearts.

Today's demon race is not only greater in number; the aura they exude when united, the killing intent honed from surviving countless battles, is even more terrifying than before.

Such a recovery speed is almost too astonishing.

Know that the demon race has suffered not just a single devastating blow.

In the first Wu-Yao war, they were nearly crushed to the point of having their foundations shattered by the Wu Clan.

Later, to forge the Slaying Wu Sword, the demon race slaughtered humanity en masse, which provoked the forbidden existence—Chen Ku—to unleash heavenly thunder.

That day, a heaven-covering giant hand came from beyond the heavens; one palm descended, instantly erasing hundreds of millions of demon beings and their true spirits.

What a horrific sight!

If any other race had suffered such repeated devastation, they would likely have collapsed long ago, perhaps even been erased from the primordial records and reduced to historical dust.

But the demon race…

They not only recovered, but even surpassed their peak, becoming even stronger.

One cannot deny that Di Jun and Taiyi's imperial strategies and charisma are indeed astonishing.

They took the Heavenly Court as their command, bloodline as their bond, survival as their pretext, and once again twisted the scattered demons across the primordial realm into a single rope.

Of course, the sages and quasi-sages present all understood clearly.

Behind this, there must be a deeper reason.

The demon race, as one of the protagonists of this Great Calamity,

itself bears a portion of the Heavenly Dao's fortune.

In the unseen, the protection and care of the Heavenly Dao's will are the fundamental reason they could rise so swiftly.

Otherwise, how could a crippled demon race contend with the blazing Wu Clan to mutual annihilation, ultimately following the prewritten heavenly mandate to clear the stage for the next protagonist?

Regardless, amidst the astonishment and discussion of all beings,

that golden deluge had completely descended upon the primordial earth.

On the other side, beneath the primordial heavens, winds and clouds shifted.

The demon race's emergence was that vast, that overbearing, without concealment.

Hundreds of millions of demon clouds coalesced into a black curtain obscuring the sun and moon, rolling down from the nine heavens, its edge pointing directly at the world's backbone—Mount Buzhou.

It was not cloud, but the solidified essence of killing intent, demonic energy, and resentment.

Beneath the curtain, the earth was utterly swallowed by endless shadow.

Mountains lost their hue, rivers their light.

Where the shadow passed, all sounds ceased, even the wind held its breath.

Countless hegemonic beings lurking in corners, even a Taiyi Golden Immortal who ruled a region, now could only bury their heads deep, their souls trembling under that supreme pressure, daring not to move an inch.

This is the overture of the war between the heavenly and earthly protagonists; any noise will be mercilessly crushed.

But only a moment passed.

That demon army, capable of collapsing the void, had already arrived at the city's gates, hovering above the Wu Clan's territory.

Each demon god and great demon unleashed their full qi; millions of qi threads intertwined into a net, forming an invisible cage that tightly bound the vast earth below.

Di Jiang, you petty fellows of the Wu Clan, get out here now!

A furious shout rang out from the golden divine throne at the vanguard of the Demon Race's great army.

Di Jun's figure stood towering and unmoving; he wore a Golden Crow Emperor's robe, donned the Peaceful Heaven Emperor Crown, his whole body entwined with Great Sun True Fire; as his eyes opened and closed, the divine light that burst forth actually pierced layer after layer of space, directly nailing onto that ancient and weathered Pangu Sacred Hall.

His voice contained the supreme imperial dragon aura and the majesty of the Heavenly Emperor; each word turned into substantive thunder, booming and exploding across the Wu Clan's territory, shaking the mountains and rivers to the brink of rupture.

This, is the declaration of war by the Demon Race's Heavenly Emperor!

At the moment his words hit, it was as if an ancient switch had been triggered.

Hum—

The stone gate of the Pangu Sacred Hall, sealed shut for countless ages, emitted a heavy roar like heaven and earth being split, and slowly opened to both sides.

A vast, ancient, and overbearing aura surged out from within the hall, instantly washing away Di Jun's released pressure to nothing.

Twelve towering figures stepped out one by one from the deep darkness behind the hall's doors.

They were precisely the Twelve Ancestor Witches led by Di Jiang.

They merely stood there, silent; their innate tyrannical flesh and killing aura seemed capable of piercing the very heavens.

At the same time, countless burly figures began to gather upon the earth in all directions.

One, ten, a million, ten million……

Tens of millions of Wu Clan youths rushed out from their tribes, bare-chested, their bodies etched with mysterious witch tattoos, wielding bone spears and stone axes; each one's eyes brimmed with primal savagery and bloodlust.

They lifted their heads, glaring tiger‑like at the demon clouds in the sky.

That gaze was ferocious, blazing, carrying an immortal enmity.

The deep Sea of Blood grudge between the two races had long been carved into their marrow, fused into their true spirits, needing no words to incite.

"Di Jun, you lot really can't hold back, can you?"

The Space Ancestor Witch Di Jiang stepped forward from the crowd, his form flickering to appear at the forefront of the Twelve Ancestor Witches, standing far off against Di Jun in the heavens.

A cold, sneering smile hung on his face, his eyes full of undisguised contempt.

"I have not yet come to slaughter your bird's nest, yet you lot actively come here to seek death."

"It seems you truly are tired of living."

Di Jiang's voice was not loud, yet it clearly reached the ears of every Demon Race great god, his contempt spilling over in words.

Upon these words, Di Jun's majestic imperial face in the heavens flickered with a hint of gloom.

He certainly heard that Di Jiang was openly exposing his old wound.

In the first Wu‑Demon war, had it not been for the sudden appearance of Dao Ancestor Hongjun at the critical moment, forcibly ordering the two races to cease hostilities, the fate of his Demon Race's Heavenly Court would truly have been to be trampled flat by the Wu Clan.

That was the greatest disgrace of his life as Di Jun, the Demon Emperor.

Just thinking of it, a fury suppressed for an entire yuanhui erupted explosively from Di Jun's chest.

Deep in his eyes, two golden miniature suns blazed fiercely.

"Hmph, Di Jiang, don't try to win with mere words!"

"Winning with words?" Di Jiang snorted, "A defeated underling—do you even deserve to speak of courage?"

Di Jun's face twitched violently, his killing intent could no longer be contained.

"My Demon Race's countless billions of beings have cultivated and stored power for an entire yuanhui, waiting for this very day!"

"Today, this place shall be the burial ground of your Wu Clan!"

"Today, not a single soul of your Wu Clan shall survive!"

Killing intent!

No longer mere pressure of aura, it had turned into a substantive cold current.

Centering on Di Jun, a thick, unfreezing killing intent swept forth, covering heaven and earth, freezing time and space, causing the blood of countless Wu Clan youths below to congeal.

This time, they did not wait for Di Jiang to speak again.

"Noisy!"

A thunderous shout, like a sudden clap of thunder on flat ground.

Zhu Rong!

The Fire Ancestor Witch Zhu Rong, whose temperament was the most explosive, could not endure such a standoff from afar.

He took a step forward, directly passing Di Jiang.

"Boom!"

That step seemed to tread upon the heart of heaven and earth.

The earth beneath his feet cracked in response, deep, bottomless fissures spreading like a spiderweb; in the depths of those cracks, dark‑red magma surged and boiled.

Zhu Rong's body was wrapped in beast pelts, his muscles knotted, his crimson hair dancing without wind, each strand burning with the undying Nanming Li fire.

He lifted his head, his bell‑like copper eyes locking firmly onto Di Jun on the golden divine throne, and Tai Yi beside him holding the Chaos Bell.

"Di Jun! Tai Yi!"

"You two feathered beasts, dare to spout bravado before us?!"

"If you want to fight, fight; if not, get lost! Why waste words here and dirty our ancestor witch's ears?"

Zhu Rong's voice was more explosive than his flames, each word filled with the utmost insult.

"Feathered beasts!"

These four words were like a red‑hot branding iron, searing fiercely into the hearts of all avian lineages of the Demon Race, and directly striking the reverse scale of Di Jun and Tai Yi.

The three‑legged Golden Crow, essence of the sun, noble in lineage, is undoubtedly the royal bloodline of the Demon Race.

When have they ever suffered such humiliation?

Di Jun's face sank completely, dark enough to seem as if water could drip from it.

And Tai Yi at his side reacted even more directly.

You, seek, death!

Taiyi's temper, originally like the sun's true fire, ignites at a touch, explosively abnormal.

Zhurong's insults, to him, are harder to bear than being killed.

It was almost the same instant as Zhurong's words fell.

In Taiyi's eyes, the divine light was gone, replaced by two golden thunderbolts that burst forth, piercing heaven and earth.

A furious shout erupted, not from his throat but from the depths of his soul, shaking the high heavens as winds and clouds rolled back, and the universe's stars swayed.

Death!

Taiyi's figure vanished abruptly from the golden divine throne.

There was no extra movement.

In the next instant, he appeared above Zhurong, a hand blazing with golden flames, wielding world-destroying might, and he slammed it down fiercely upon Zhurong's celestial crown!

That was not mere strength; it was the primal power of the sun star, the imperial divine might of the Golden Crow clan, and the boundless wrath of the East Emperor Taiyi.

Under that palm, golden light tore the universe apart.

Before the palm's force arrived, that scorching, domineering aura had already melted the space below inch by inch; the sound of wind and thunder was utterly suppressed, leaving only the dead silence of annihilation in the wake of the golden light.

Its momentum was horrifically unmatched, its speed incredibly swift.

With this strike, he intends to utterly erase Zhurong together with his true spirit from the primordial world!

Seeing this, Zhurong was not startled but delighted.

He grinned, revealing a mouthful of stark white teeth, his smile full of wild excitement.

Hahaha, good timing!

A burst of loud laughter shook the clouds.

He remained calm and fearless, his fighting spirit soaring to the heavens.

Boom!

Faced with this world-destroying blow, Zhurong did not retreat but advanced, stepping forward fiercely once more.

This step caused the entire Wu Clan territory, and even half of Mount Buzhou, to begin violently humming without cease.

The earth roared for him! The mountains and rivers trembled for him!

At the same time, his qi and blood could no longer be contained, erupting like a furnace.

That was the Wu Clan's most primal and domineering life essence!

Boom!

Within Zhurong's body rang the roaring of rushing rivers and thunder.

Every inch of flesh and blood, every tendon and bone, burst forth with dazzling divine radiance; the golden qi and blood power almost solidified, coiling around his body, condensing into ancient, mysterious totem patterns.

His physique was no longer a fleshly body, but a war god forged from immortal divine metal.

Not only that.

In the void, the endless fire principle was forcibly twisted and converged by an invisible force; they were no longer violent, rampant elements but became as docile as pilgrims, following an extremely profound trajectory that slowly flowed around Zhu Rong's body.

That trajectory transcended common sense, overturned cognition, carrying a supreme aura of myriad laws returning to one, myriad paths sharing the same source.

"Taiyi!"

Zhu Rong let out a thunderous shout; the sound waves rolled, shaking the entire starry sky into a humming tremor.

He moved.

No flashy divine abilities, no splendid spells.

Just a simple step forward, a single punch thrown.

This punch gathered his boiling fighting spirit, carried his perfected Dao, and was infused with that newly born, indomitable overlordly power.

Where the fist's edge passed, space shattered inch by inch, turning into the purest Chaos void; all light, all laws were utterly crushed and devoured by that peerless fist intent.

It could be called utterly destructive!

Facing this earth-shattering punch, Donghuang Taiyi's pupils contracted sharply.

As the supreme of the Demon Race, wielding the Chaos Bell to suppress the primordial ages, when had he ever felt such pure, extreme pressure of power!

But he was ultimately Taiyi.

"Impudent!"

In his angry shout, the Chaos Bell rang loudly; myriad laws manifested, illusory shadows of the sun, moon, and stars encircled his body, forming an absolute defense dubbed impervious to myriad calamities.

However, it was too late.

Zhu Rong's fist slammed hard onto the layered wall of starlight.

There was no earth-shattering roar.

Only a grating, intensely muffled breaking sound.

Crack——

As if glass shattering, the star-woven defense, under Zhu Rong's fist, was as fragile as a thin sheet of paper.

Boom——

In the next instant, the destructive power finally erupted fully.

The void was torn open a bottomless gigantic rift; a violent energy storm swept in all directions, all laws wailing and sinking beneath this strike.

At the storm's center, Zhu Rong's figure stood unmoving.

He still maintained his punching posture; on his arms, knotted veins bulged like earth dragons, every muscle fiber strained to the limit, revealing a heaven-shaking, unparalleled terrifying power.

And on the other side.

Donghuang Taiyi's figure, however, traced a wretchedly golden streak of light in the void.

He was blown backward by that overwhelming, unstoppable force, tumbling uncontrollably and shattering one after another of the remaining star fragments.

He retreated a full several hundred li before he could use the Chaos Bell to ring out a thunderous tone, forcibly suppressing that irresistible impact, barely managing to halt his motion.

The radiance of the Zhou Tian Star Dou Great Array flickered uncertainly on his body.

His throat felt sweet, and a strand of golden divine blood nearly spurted out.

How could this be?

How could this be possible!

Taiyi forcibly suppressed the surging qi and blood, and in his golden eyes that perceive all things, there now remained only an intense shock and incredulity that could not be dispelled.

He stared fixedly at the distant figure resembling a demon god.

The strange aura surrounding Zhurong, that indestructible, invulnerable resonance, was like a sharp spike that fiercely pierced deep into his divine soul.

A name long buried in the corner of his memory, yet one he greatly feared, exploded in his mind.

"This..."

His voice was hoarse, and he spoke with difficulty.

"Nine Turn Mystic Art?!"

The last four words were almost squeezed out from between his teeth, filled with endless bewilderment and shock.

"You Wu Clan, how could you possibly master such a method?!"

Taiyi roared in a low, angry voice; it was less a question and more a roar of denial against reality.

Correct!

Absolutely no mistake!

Now, the strong ones of the Buddhist sect like the Golden-Winged Great Peng roam the wilderness, and the unique aura of their body-tempering technique is no longer a secret.

Some top experts have already perceived this ancient supreme body-tempering method.

Taiyi, as the Heavenly Emperor of the Demon Race, naturally had also studied it in depth.

The aura previously circulating around Zhurong's body was exactly that, and even... more pure, more complete!

This simply defies common sense!

Taiyi's thoughts instantly returned to the time of the first Wu-Yao war.

Back then, the Twelve Ancestral Wu had equally formidable physiques, controlled the laws of heaven and earth, and were barbarically domineering.

But he was absolutely certain that back then, the Wu Clan had absolutely not cultivated such a method!

Their strength came from bloodline, from innate nature, a crude, unrefined power.

Yet Zhurong's punch just now, amidst its brutality, contained an ultimate "Dao" and "Li"—the rounded perfection and immortality achieved only after tempering the flesh a thousand times and cultivating to another realm of heaven and earth!

This discovery struck like a heavenly thunderbolt, fiercely smiting the hearts of all the Demon Race's mighty ones.

Even Di Jun, who always maintained a calm countenance atop the imperial carriage, saw his expression suddenly shift slightly.

Beside him, the demon master Kunpeng, his gloomy, piercing eyes flickered with uncertain astonishment.

The Ten Great Demon Saints all had their minds and spirits violently shaken.

They did not know.

During the long years when they, the Demon Race, closed off to study the Zhou Tian Star Dou Great Array, believing they could rely on this trump card to unify the wilderness in one fell swoop,

their mortal enemies, the Wu Clan, also completed a metamorphic rebirth!

By now, the eleven Ancestral Wu aside from Houtu have already cultivated the legendary Nine Turn Mystic Art to its full nine-turn perfection, reaching the supreme realm.

Even top Wu like Chiyou have likewise cultivated this method.

The Nine Turn Mystic Art is originally the Pangu Orthodox's supreme body-tempering method.

The Wu Clan, being formed from Pangu's essence-blood, inherently possess physiques that can be called invincible.

Combined, they are far from a simple one-plus-one.

This is like adding wings to a tiger, like a divine dragon entering the sea!

Zhurong's ability to repel Taiyi, who wields a supreme treasure, with a single strike is the best proof of such a terrifying transformation.

Facing Taiyi's questioning, Zhurong slowly retracted his fist, and the boiling qi and blood around his body gradually subsided.

He looked at Taiyi, whose expression was grim several hundred li away, and unveiled an unreserved smile full of glee.

"Hahaha!"

The unrestrained laughter echoed through the void.

"Taiyi, I'll give you this much credit, you feathered beast!"

"Not bad!"

Zhurong thrust out his chest, each word striking like a heavy hammer, fiercely pounding the hearts of the Demon Race crowd.

"This, is the Nine Turn Mystic Art!"

"Such a supreme method was personally transmitted to us by Daoist friend Chen Ku!"

He uttered that name clearly, word by word.

"Daoist friend Chen Ku's trump card, his breadth of mind, his means—are unparalleled throughout the ages, unmatched by anyone!"

"Poor you Demon Race, having eyes but no pearls, sitting on a treasure mountain yet unaware!"

"And yet you repeatedly oppose Daoist friend Chen Ku and become hostile to the Buddhist sect!"

Zhurong's tone was full of mockery, and every glance was indulging in the divine ability known as "Heart Slaughter".

"Now, do you know regret?"

"Too late!"

"You are simply seeking your own death!"

He did not intend to drag Chen Ku into the murky waters of this Great Calamity.

Rather, it was a sincere admiration and gratitude from the heart.

Thinking back to before, the Wu Clan had once, due to a misunderstanding, carried out the ungrateful act of expelling Dizang, and Zhurong felt a surge of shame in his heart.

Even so, when the Wu Clan was ambushed by the Shaman-slaying Needle, at the brink of life and death, it was still that fellow Daoist Chen Ku, who, setting aside past grievances, reached out and saved the entire Wu Clan.

After this incident, Chen Ku had completely subdued Zhurong, that unruly Primordial Shaman.

This favor, Zhurong has kept it in mind!

Therefore, he wants to, in front of the entire Primordial Wasteland, attribute this honor to Chen Ku!

And upon hearing Zhurong's words, hearing that familiar name that made their souls ache.

Di Jun, Taiyi, huge fish-bird…

All the Demon Race's high-ranking members, their faces instantly darkened, so gloomy it seemed water could drip from them.

That face, which had been somewhat handsome, was now twisted beyond recognition.

Chen Ku!

Again, Chen Ku!