Chapter 393: The Wu Clan's Karmic Retribution, the Final Blow!

Di Jun's remarks viewing humanity as livestock and weeds had not yet faded, but already they stirred a towering wave of blood in Chen Ku's heart-sea.

That killing intent, almost condensing into substance, erupted explosively from within him, causing heaven and earth to tremble.

The void froze inch by inch, and the laws shivered.

Even Jieyin, Zhunti, and Hong Yun, the three saints who had already proved the Dao of Primordial Unity, felt a tremor rising from the depths of their souls.

Their gazes toward Chen Ku grew a hint of solemnity.

This disciple… or rather, this fellow Daoist, his resolve in the Dao and the fierceness of his anger far exceeded their expectations.

Especially Jieyin, whose face was usually worn with hardship, now was overcast with clouds of worry.

This disciple of theirs is perfect in every way.

His talent is unmatched in ages, his cultivation advances a thousand miles a day, and his conduct is flawless.

Only one thing…

He values loyalty and righteousness too much.

This loyalty and righteousness are toward humanity, toward all weak living beings in this world.

To ordinary cultivators, this is boundless merit, a great good.

But in the eyes of those saints who have transcended the Three Realms, exist beyond the Five Elements, and view all things as straw dogs, it is a kind of… flaw.

A flaw that could invite deadly disaster in the future Great Calamity.

Jieyin sighed silently in his heart, yet did not speak.

He knew Chen Ku's Dao differed from theirs.

Precisely because of this difference, he has reached a point today where even saints must take notice.

In this near-frozen silence, a voice suddenly rang out, breaking the stalemate.

"Junior Nephew…"

The speaker was Zhunti.

His gaze swept over Chen Ku, Jieyin, and Hong Yun, finally settling on Chen Ku's ice‑sealed face.

He paused, seemingly choosing his words, but the question he asked struck straight at the heart of the matter.

"Should we intervene and aid the Wu Clan?!"

As soon as these words left his mouth, the taut string in the air was instantly plucked to its limit!

Jieyin's and Hong Yun's gazes also "whoosh"ed, all converging on Chen Ku.

This is likewise their greatest doubt.

The Wu‑Slaying Sword!

That sword was forged from countless—indeed, immeasurable—human flesh, souls, and resentment!

It is the eternal blood feud of humanity, the hatred etched into Chen Ku's very bones.

This hatred points directly at the Demon Race's Heavenly Court, directly at Di Jun and Taiyi!

On the other hand, Chen Ku has long had dealings with Hou Tu, Di Jiang, and the Twelve Ancestral Wu; their relationship is deep.

This much is known to any being with even a slight connection in the Primordial.

Now the Wu‑Slaying Sword's edge is fully revealed, its point aimed at the Wu Clan.

Before this peerless murderous weapon, the Twelve Heavenly Gods and Fiends Great Formation already shows signs of collapse; the Wu Clan bears unprecedented pressure, and the danger of annihilation looms near.

One side is the Demon Race, bearing a deep grudge from the Sea of Blood.

The other side is the Wu Clan, with whom he has considerable friendship.

At such a juncture, what will Chen Ku choose?

Will he, because of his hatred for the Demon Race, be moved to pity toward the Wu Clan?

Will he, at this moment, boldly strike out, join forces with the Wu Clan, and deliver a fatal blow to the Demon Race's Heavenly Court?

This choice concerns not only the fate of the Wu and Demon races, but may also… completely alter the future course of the Primordial!

Jieyin, Zhunti, and Hong Yun—the hearts of the three saints rose involuntarily.

They awaited Chen Ku's answer.

Yet, it was beyond everyone's expectation.

Hearing Zhunti's earth‑shattering question, the icy killing intent on Chen Ku's face actually began to fade.

He first stared, then a hint of amusement and indifference appeared in his deep eyes.

He shook his head.

"Heh…"

A soft laugh slipped from his lips, light though it was, it made the three saints' hearts jolt.

In that laugh there was no warmth, only an aloofness that keeps others at a distance, and a detachment that sees through everything.

"The war between the Wu and Demon races—what does it have to do with us?"

A single sentence, plain as water, yet weighty as Mount Tai.

Zhunti's expression stiffened slightly.

Jieyin and Hong Yun also showed varied expressions.

This was an answer they had not anticipated.

Chen Ku looked at them, his voice still calm, and continued:

"As for that Wu‑Slaying Sword…"

He paused, his gaze seemingly piercing endless time and space, landing on that blood‑red murderous sword now rampaging across the Primordial battlefield.

"... It is merely the Wu Clan's karmic debt."

"It is something they ought to bear themselves."

Cause and effect.

What a cause and effect!

Jieyin and Zhunti exchanged a glance, each seeing a hint of understanding in the other's eyes.

They instantly understood Chen Ku's meaning.

Make peace with the Wu Clan?

That was merely a matter of the past.

Put more bluntly, each side merely had its own designs; it was just a transaction.

In Chen Ku's mind, images of the past surfaced.

He had personally instructed Hou Tu and Di Jiang that the Demon Race's wolfish ambitions would surely turn on humanity, hoping the Wu Clan would, out of their mutual affection, protect humanity a bit.

How did the ancestral Wu respond back then?

They slapped their chests, vowing solemnly.

But what happened afterward?

When the Demon Race's slaughtering blade truly fell, when billions of humans were slaughtered and refined amid wails and despair...

What did the Wu Clan do?

They did nothing.

They chose to stand by with folded arms, to watch from the opposite shore.

Even under their tacit approval, the Demon Race's slaughter of humanity proceeded so smoothly, so recklessly.

Were it not for the Wu Clan's indifference, were it not for their first breach of promise, how could the Demon Race easily gather the millions of souls needed to forge the Witch-Slaying Sword?

On that Witch-Slaying Sword, the blood of humanity is indeed soaked.

But within the 'cause' that forged this sword, there is likewise a deed personally buried by the Wu Clan!

Sow a cause, reap a fruit.

The Heavenly Dao turns, retribution never fails.

All that the Wu Clan endures today is exactly the price they must pay for their past indifference.

This is the Wu Clan's karmic retribution in this life!

Having realized this, the last ripple in Chen Ku's heart completely stilled.

Sympathy?

Pity?

Nonexistent.

Chen Ku's loyalty and affection are reserved only for humanity, only for those living beings worthy of trust.

Toward those who betray trust and abandon righteousness, he never hesitates to repay with the coldest indifference.

Of course, this is only one aspect.

Chen Ku's such firmness also stems from deeper considerations.

His gaze swept over the battlefield shrouded in endless killing intent and demonic energy, his mind crystal clear.

He firmly believed that even if the Witch-Slaying Sword were to appear, the Wu Clan would by no means be so easily exterminated.

The Demon Race, too, could never truly unify heaven and earth.

For this is the Wu-Demon Great Calamity.

It is the trend already set by the Heavenly Dao!

What is the Great Calamity?

The ultimate purpose of the Great Calamity has never been to let one side win, but to sweep both afflicted parties utterly into the dust of history, making way for the new protagonists of heaven and earth.

The final result must be the utter annihilation of the Wu and Demon clans, both perishing together.

Nothing else will do!

This is the will of the Heavenly Dao, an iron law that no sage nor living being can defy.

Since the ending is already fixed, what are the occasional twists and turns in the process?

Chen Ku's thoughts flashed like lightning and sparks.

"Among the Wu Clan… there surely remains some ultimate means yet to be unleashed."

His gaze grew ever deeper.

That is a trump card capable of shaking the entire Wilderness, even dragging the lofty Demon Race Heavenly Court into the abyss of destruction.

"Perhaps…"

"That final blow will also reveal the mystery of Mount Buzhou's fracture."

In ages past, Pangu split the heavens; his spine became Mount Buzhou, supporting this vast expanse of Wilderness heaven and earth.

How sacred, how steadfast is Mount Buzhou!

Even a sage's full-force strike might not budge it in the slightest.

Yet in later legends, it was broken.

What terrifying force could snap this heavenly pillar stone at the waist?

This long-buried question in Chen Ku's heart surged forth once more.

As the intensity of the Wu-Demon final war is pushed to the extreme, as both sides' trump cards are exhausted, one might think…

That earth-shattering answer will soon be revealed.

……

On the battlefield!

Blood.

Endless blood.

The scarlet flood soaked every inch of scorched earth beneath Mount Buzhou, the tattered Wu Clan battle flags planted upside‑down on hills of corpses, fluttering and emitting their final wail.

The great battle has reached its end.

The appearance of a single sword turned everything around.

Wu‑slaying Sword!

As soon as this sword appears, the heavens and earth are filled with a killing intent so venomous it reaches the extreme.

Each sweep of the sword's light brings forth a continuous, endless, mournful wail—not the voice of the Wu Clan, but the curse of billions of demon souls within the blade.

The demon race slaughtered to forge this sword turned all their pain and hatred into a poison that pierces to the bone, aimed at the Wu Clan's bloodline.

Where the sword's point touches, the Wu Clan's indestructible flesh crumbles; even their souls cannot flee before being torn apart and devoured by the venomous demon soul power.

Irresistible.

Truly irresistible.

Once able to stand equal to the Demon Race's Heavenly Court and rule the earth, the Wu Clan now falls like harvested wheat, swath after swath collapsing.

Defeated at every turn.

The twelve ancestral Wu stumble in the void, their bodies covered in deep‑to‑the‑bone sword scars, each wound wrapped in gray‑black resentment that incessantly erodes their vitality.

Hatred!

Rage!

Boundless emotions surge in their chests, almost burning their reason to ashes.

"Ah——!"

Emperor Jiang's howl tore the firmament, his eyes blood‑red, the corners bursting, spilling golden divine blood.

"You damned demon race deserve death!"

No wonder he is like this.

Since the appearance of that ferocious sword hanging in the firmament, emitting endless cold light, only a finger‑snap has passed.

Tens of thousands!

Exactly tens of thousands of elite Wu youths turned to ash before his eyes.

The earth wails, the void trembles.

If this continues, the Wu Clan… is in peril!

No, it is not peril.

It is extermination!

This thought, like the most vicious thorn, stabbed fiercely into Emperor Jiang's heart.

Before his words even faded, he could no longer endure.

He took a step forward.

Emperor Jiang's form blurred instantly, spatial laws boiling around him; in the next instant he ignored millions of miles of distance and appeared directly above the Wu‑slaying Sword.

He stood upon the nine heavens, looking down at the arch‑culprit that slaughtered his kin, his eyes filled with pure, utter destruction.

"Shatter… for me!"

He swung his great hand violently.

Not a slap, not a grasp, but a more domineering, tyrannical application of law.

Centered on him, the void within a radius of millions of miles groaned under the strain, then suddenly collapsed inward, compressing!

Space was twisted into a thin sheet; all matter, all light, all vital energy were forcibly squeezed by that grip, grinding toward the Wu‑slaying Sword at the center.

He intended to use absolute spatial power to shatter this sword together with its spacetime into the primal Chaos!

At the same time.

"Big brother!"

Candle Nine Yin roared, the river of time manifested behind him but dim and lightless; he forcibly activated temporal law, trying to delay the Wu‑slaying Sword's reaction.

"Kill!"

Zhurong and Gonggong, the fire and water ancestral Wu, had long abandoned their former feud and now stood side by side.

One's divine fire burns the heavens, scorching the void.

One's raging flood rolls the earth, eroding myriad laws.

The remaining ancestral Wu, at the same moment, unleashed their dwindling strength without reservation.

They employed the Great Dao laws each commanded; the twelve primordial powers wove into a heavenly‑covering net from all directions, enveloping the Wu‑slaying Sword to combine with Emperor Jiang's spatial collapse into a killing formation.

But, it was useless.

Having operated the Heavenly Gods and Fiends Grand Formation, they were already exhausted of oil and wick.

The law power that once could shake the primordial heavens and earth now appears so feeble.

Candle Nine Yin's river of time shattered inch by inch the instant it touched the sword's light.

Zhurong's divine fire was extinguished by the endless resentment contained in the sword's aura.

Gonggong's raging flood was directly vaporized by that sharp qi.

Under the support of the twelve laws' power, that Wu‑slaying Sword was merely…

…a slight tremor.

Hum——!

A soft hum, yet it drowned out all the battle cries and wails on the field.

The next instant, myriad rays brighter than stars and fiercer than dark ice burst forth from the sword's body.

Each ray of cold light is a life‑taking sword qi!

They ignored the distance of space, ignored the flow of time, and rushed straight toward Di Jiang above the firmament, charging at the remaining eleven ancestral witches who were jointly besieging him.

That sharpness had not even reached his body.

Merely that aura caused the twelve ancestral witches' bodies, tougher than divine metal, to violently tremble, and their souls to sting.

Pu! Pu! Pu!

Di Jiang bore the brunt; the spatial law he used to shatter the void was instantly pierced through by the myriad sword qi, becoming riddled with holes.

The violent power backlashed, making his frame shudder violently as he spat a mouthful of rebel blood.

The other ancestral witches were likewise, each forced to retreat repeatedly by the erupting cold light, in utter disarray.

Even joining forces, they could not budge that sword in the slightest.

This scene clearly fell into the eyes of the gods of the Demon Race's Heavenly Court.

Above the clouds, Di Jun and Taiyi stood shoulder to shoulder, while the demon gods behind them shouted a cheer like mountains and seas.

"Hah… hahahaha!"

Di Jun watched the disheveled figures of the ancestral witches and burst into an exhilarated, unrestrained laugh, his voice filled with the joy of victory after eons of suppression.

"A mantis trying to stop a chariot!"

"Overestimating oneself!"

His golden imperial robe danced wildly in the gale, his eyes full of the delight and cruelty of looking down on ants.

Victory had already been ordained.

Taiyi at his side had no idle words.

On the face of this Eastern Emperor lay only icy killing intent; the Chaos Bell he held aloft issued resonant peals that suppressed the universe, echoing far with the Witch-Slaying Sword's hum.

His gaze flashed like lightning as he swept over the great witches still struggling below; his voice, heavy and iron-like, rang throughout heaven and earth.

"First slay the great witches."

"Then exterminate the ancestral witches!"

The instant his words fell, a divine light flashed in his eyes, and his thought already stirred the peerless wicked sword hanging above the nine heavens.

Hum!

The Witch-Slaying Sword again let out a pleased, light hum; the blood-red patterns on its blade flowed endlessly, beginning to slowly turn its edge under his will.

For a moment, the Witch-Slaying Sword hung inverted.

Upon the sword's blade, the resentful force condensed from myriad souls turned into substantive black qi, strands dripping down, pressing the void to groan under the strain.

That sword was not pointed at anyone else.

Its target was one of the eight great witches, Jiu Feng!

The sword tip trembled slightly; a force absolutely restraining the Wu Clan's bloodline, originating from their very bones, had already locked Jiu Feng's surrounding space for thousands of li.

Boom!

Without the slightest hesitation, the Witch-Slaying Sword thundered down.

In that instant, the entire Primordial battlefield seemed to be muted.

Countless figures locked in combat froze in unison, whether demon gods or witch soldiers, whether mighty observers or beings hidden in the dark; all gazes were drawn to that sword light tearing the firmament.

That light, pallid with a hint of deathly ash, contained the deepest, most vicious curse upon a race.

The faces of the twelve ancestral witches turned ashen at that moment.

Ruthless!

What a vicious heart!

Di Jun and Taiyi intended to use this wicked blade, which gathered the blood grudges of countless humans, to strike down the Wu Clan's top combat power!

This was to uproot the Wu Clan's roots!

"Damn it!"

A roar exploded, shattering the heavens.

"Stop!"

Zhu Rong's body suddenly ignited, turning him into a scarlet divine fire piercing heaven and earth, his speed pushed to the utmost limit of his life as he surged toward Jiu Feng.

The law-fire surrounding him scorched space into twisted distortion, attempting with his own might to forcibly sever the Witch-Slaying Sword's fatal blow.

However, it was too late.

Before the Witch-Slaying Sword, any speed appeared pale and powerless.

The trajectory of the sword's thrust did not follow physical law, but was the inevitability of cause and effect.

It was born solely to slay witches!

A divine radiance tearing the firmament erupted fully.

That light was so blinding that all beings could not look directly at it, only feeling a annihilating sharp will sweep across.

Jiu Feng stood in place; her formidable flesh, capable of shaking an innate spirit treasure, was now stiff to the point of being unable to move an inch.

It was not that she did not wish to dodge.

Rather, the sword intent had already pinned her soul completely.

In her eyes remained only a growing pallor of death.

She did not even have time for a trace of fear to rise.

Hiss…

A soft sound.

Light as if cloth were being torn.

Yet this sound clearly reached the ears of every being on the battlefield, more shocking than a thunderclap.

The next moment, the light faded.

All beings finally saw the scene above the high heavens.

The ferocious and peerless Slay-Witch Sword had cleanly and swiftly pierced Jiufeng's chest.

The sword's body protruded from her back, unstained by even a trace of blood, only strands of black resentment frantically devouring and dissolving the immense Wu Clan essence blood within Jiufeng.

A plume of bloody arrows burst forth from Jiufeng's wound.

That was not ordinary blood.

That was the primal essence blood of a Great Witch, each drop containing the power to move mountains and fill the seas.

At that moment, the scorching, life-filled divine blood transformed into a gruesome blood rain, dyeing the heavens below a shocking crimson, then poured onto the earth, corroding mountains and rivers into hissing pits.

Jiufeng's towering, massive body hovered in midair for a moment.

The luster in her eyes rapidly faded and dissipated at a visible speed.

Immediately, a loud "bang" echoed.

Her body, devoid of any vitality, plummeted straight down from the heavens like a kite with its string cut, crashing to the ground.

The earth trembled violently, dust shooting into the sky.

A Great Witch, one of the Wu Clan's top combatants, perished just then.

Body dead, Dao extinguished.

Silence!

Deathly silence!

Across the battlefield, whether the cries of slaughter or the roars of divine abilities, all ceased abruptly at that moment.

Between heaven and earth, even a falling pin could be heard.

Everyone stared dumbfounded at the figure plunged into the earth's deep pit, at the silhouette now devoid of any sound.

Their shock had already turned into towering waves, nearly overwhelming their reason.

Great Witch!

That is a Great Witch-level existence!

It is a powerhouse standing atop the pyramid on the primordial land, gazing down upon all beings.

Before that, the Wu-Yao battle had reached its utmost intensity, with rivers of blood and mountains of corpses, but the highest level of those who had fallen were merely Great Luo Golden Immortal demon kings and elite Great Witches.

Beings such as Great Witch Jiufeng or the Demon Race's Ten Great Saints, who could stabilize heaven and earth, had always remained unharmed.

This had become an unspoken rule that everyone tacitly understood.

But now, this rule was torn apart by Emperor Jun and the Demon Race in the most bloody and direct way.

It is not hard for all beings to imagine that, with Jiufeng's death, the nature of this Great Calamity battle has completely changed.

From now on, there will be no more probing, no more limits.

Only endless struggle!

Indeed!

The Twelve Ancestral Witches stared fixedly at Jiufeng's icy corpse, for a moment all somewhat dazed.

But soon, each Ancestral Witch's eyes began to blaze with intense fury.

That was not fire.

That was a boundless hatred capable of burning down the heavens, shattering the Nine Underworlds, and destroying everything in the world.

After a long while.

The Space Ancestral Witch Emperor Jiang finally reacted from that extreme shock and grief.

He slowly, word by word, began to speak.

"You..."

His voice was hoarse and dry, each word sounding as if squeezed from between his teeth, with a metallic, grating harshness.

"Seek death!"

The final two words were syllables condensed purely from killing intent, shaking the surrounding space into spiderweb-like cracks.

One need not look at Emperor Jiang's expression; merely hearing his voice conveys that hatred and fury bordering on madness, a brutality almost seeking to destroy everything.

Emperor Jiang's gaze, like two poisoned heavenly blades, fixed firmly upon Emperor Jun and Taiyi.

His aura surged wildly, the terrifying power of the Space Ancestral Witch no longer concealed, causing the entire heaven and earth to tremble violently.

Yet, to Emperor Jun and Taiyi, all this appeared utterly ridiculous.

"Haha..."

Emperor Jun threw back his head and laughed long, his laughter filled with lofty contempt and delight.

"Emperor Jiang, you can only spout such grandiose words."

He paused, the scorn in his eyes growing ever stronger.

"Having lost the support of Pangu's true form, what are you Wu Clan even worth?!"

"However, you need not be overly grief-stricken."

Emperor Jun's lips curled into an arc of extreme cruelty as he leisurely surveyed the remaining eleven Ancestral Witches, proclaiming their fate.

"Next, it's your turn."

Mockery!

Utter mockery!

Emperor Jun's words, each turning into the sharpest dagger, precisely stabbed into the Ancestral Witches' most painful wounds.

It could be called a naked killing of the heart!

As he said, without the Wu Clan having Pangu's illusory form as a means, aren't they just letting themselves be slaughtered?

However.

Just as demonic power surged around him and he was about to issue the total attack command, Emperor Jiang, who should have been raging mad and futilely struggling, suddenly fell silent without any warning.

That raging fury that could burn the heavens and boil the seas actually receded from him like a tide.

The surrounding ravaging spatial turbulence also subsided accordingly.

Emperor Jiang lifted his head.

His blood-red eyes had at some point regained clarity—a deathly, profound clarity, fathomless, with no trace of madness left, only something icy and heart‑chilling remained.

Resolve.

A resolve to burn everything, regardless of cost.

"Do you really think my Wu Clan has no other means?"

Emperor Jiang's voice was not loud, even a little hoarse, yet each word was crystal clear, as if wrapped in ancient glacial ice, piercing through the clamorous battlefield and striking precisely into the ears of Emperor Jun and Taiyi.

The delight in Emperor Jun's eyes solidified.

Taiyi's hand gripping the Chaos Bell also tightened unconsciously.

What does that mean?

This tone……is off!

Could it be that this bunch of barbarians really still hides some trump card capable of overturning heaven and earth?!

Impossible!

Besides that already‑scattered All‑Heaven Divine Slaughter Grand Formation, what else could they have?!

Emperor Jiang's gaze no longer paid heed to the surprise of the two demon supremes; he slowly swept his eyes over his brothers beside him.

Zhu Jiuyin, Zhurong, Gonggong, Qiangliang……on each Ancestral Witch's face were bloodstains and fatigue, but more than that was an unyielding fighting spirit.

Emperor Jiang's voice became exceedingly heavy, each word as if squeezed from the deepest part of his chest.

"Today, my Wu Clan stands at the brink of life and death."

His gaze finally settled on the Time Ancestral Witch, Zhu Jiuyin.

"Offer the heart‑blood of the Father God; even if we expend everything, we must make these demon beasts have no return."

As the five words "Offer the heart‑blood of the Father God" were spoken, the raging flames on Zhurong's body stalled for a moment, and the surging torrents encircling Gonggong instantly calmed.

On the faces of all the Ancestral Witches appeared an extremely complex expression.

There was struggle, there was pain, and moreover……a trace of fear springing from the depths of their bloodline.

That is their final taboo, a last resort that must not be used unless the clan faces extinction.

The entire battlefield fell into a moment of eerie stillness.

A moment.

After a long silence, Zhu Jiuyin's tightly shut eyes slowly opened; within them there was no day or night, no time, only a void of chaos.

He gave a heavy nod.

"Brothers, there is no need to hesitate."

"What Elder Brother Emperor Jiang said is correct; we……have no way to retreat."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried a power that could cut through all hesitation.

"Act quickly."

"Offer the heart‑blood of the Father God, slaughter the demon race!"

The two leading Ancestral Witches had already made their decision.

Zhurong, Gonggong and the others exchanged a glance; immediately, all their struggle and hesitation faded from their eyes, replaced by the same frenzy and resolve to burn everything as Emperor Jiang had shown.

"Battle!"

"Kill!"

They all let out a heaven‑shaking, earth‑roaring roar together.

The next moment, a scene appeared that all watching beings could not comprehend.

The Twelve Ancestral Witches, these twelve heaven‑standing demon gods, instead of charging again, sat cross‑legged in the midst of the battlefield where blood flowed like a river.

Their eyes half‑closed, their expressions solemn, as if everything outside were cut off from them.

Immediately after.

An exceedingly ancient, obscure syllable began to be chanted from their mouths.

It was none of the languages of the primordial world, nor any known Daoist true word.

That sound was low and distant, filled with an ineffable ancient flavor, as if it had crossed endless time and space, transmitted from before the heavens and earth were split apart.

Each syllable seemed meaningless, yet appeared to contain the supreme principle of heaven and earth.

All beings looked on, bewildered.

What are they doing?

Praying before battle?

The Wu Clan does not cultivate the primordial spirit, only refines the flesh—this is the consensus of the primordial era.

What, then, are they chanting now?!

Emperor Jun's brows knit tight, his unease growing stronger.

He could not understand it, but he instinctively sensed an extreme danger, a terrifying aura capable of threatening him and the entire demon race, now brewing.

That mysterious incantation grew louder and louder.

At first only the Twelve Ancestral Witches were chanting, but gradually the entire Mount Buzhou battlefield seemed to echo with it.

The wind whispered, the earth resonated.

That ancient syllable seemed to be awakening some ancient entity slumbering deep in the primordial yellow of heaven and earth.

Just then.

Boom!

A huge roar erupted from within Mount Buzhou without any warning.

That sound was dull to the extreme, yet possessed unmatched penetrative power, directly striking the hearts of all living beings.

Boom!

Another one.

This time, it was clearer and heavier.

Everyone felt their hearts seized by an invisible force, forced to beat once in sync with that sound.

Those with weaker cultivation turned pale on the spot and spat out a mouthful of blood.

Boom!

The third sound rang out.

The entire Mount Buzhou, this divine mountain that props up heaven and earth, trembled slightly.

Countless rocks rolled down, and the earth split open.

That feeling……

Within Mount Buzhou, it seemed as if there was a heart so huge it was unimaginable.

A heart that had slept for hundreds of millions of years.

Was now awakening.

Not only that.

Amidst this earth-shaking heartbeat!

In the deepest part of the Pangu Sacred Hall, that forbidden zone no one dared to probe, suddenly burst open.

Whoosh……

Whoosh……

Blood!

Endless crimson blood transformed into twelve vast rivers that spanned the heavens, roaring forth from the depths of that dark hall!

They were not flowing; they were surging, scouring!

Each blood river contained the terrifying power to rend the Great Dao; wherever they passed, space shattered inch by inch, turning into black Chaos, which the crimson blood light then forcibly fixed, forming a bizarre apocalyptic scroll.

The twelve blood rivers stretched across the sky, precisely locking onto the Twelve Ancestral Wu.

In the next instant, they poured downward!

At that moment, all sounds ceased.

Whether it was the Demon Race's Heavenly Court army or the distant experts watching the battle, every living being's breath was snatched away in an instant, their hearts clenched by an invisible hand.

Shock.

Fear.

These two utterly different emotions intertwined, forming an indescribable horror.

They felt it.

They truly felt it!

That was not merely a 'great river'; it was condensed from heart's blood so pure and exalted that it surpassed myriad Dao!

Each droplet of blood seemed like a newly opened small world, within which lay the power to cleave heaven and earth.

Merely the aura it emitted was enough to collapse the ages and awe the heavens!

"That is……"

A voice as old as countless ages trembled, pupils shrinking to the most dangerous needle-like points.

"Pangu's heartblood?!"

That name was like a forbidden divine thunder, exploding in everyone's sea of consciousness!

"Heavens! It absolutely is Pangu's heartblood! Aside from the Father God who cleaved heaven and earth, whose heartblood could wield such divine might?!"

"Hiss……"

The sound of drawing in cold breaths rose and fell, connecting into a continuous wave.

"The rumors are true! The Great God Pangu, upon perishing after cleaving heaven, had his heart become Mount Buzhou; later obtained by the Wu Clan, it was hidden in their ancestral land and revered as the supreme holy relic!"

"How terrifying! Is this merely a trace of the Great God Pangu's true power? A mere thread of his heartblood would be enough to crush the heavens!"

All beings lost their voices, exclaiming nonstop; the many doubts they had before suddenly cleared up at this moment.

Earlier, Di Jiang had said, 'Offering the Father God's heartblood.'

At the time, countless people thought that was just the Wu Clan's boast to raise morale.

Now, combined with the supreme pressure in those blood rivers that would make even a Grand Unity mighty one tremble, the truth is self-evident.

Pangu's heart truly resides with the Wu Clan!

At this very moment, the Twelve Ancestral Wu are sacrificing themselves, activating the power of that supreme heart within the Pangu Sacred Hall, drawing out its most primal heart's blood to empower themselves!

Di Jiang spoke no falsehood.

They truly still hide a final trump card capable of overturning heaven and earth!

To the Wu Clan, the significance and value of Pangu's heart have long surpassed everything.

It is their root, their source, the limit of their power, and the highest honor of their status as Pangu's descendants.

To resort to such means is no different than drinking poison to quench thirst; the cost must be horrifically unimaginable.

This is both their resolve to spare nothing and their final roar.

But how will the effect of this final killing move be?

Everyone's gaze was fixed tightly on the twelve blood rivers pouring down from the heavens, and on the twelve figures beneath them.

Boom!

Blood river floods the body!

There was no imagined energy explosion; only a fusion originating from the life level, barbarically pushed to the extreme!

The bodies of the twelve ancestor witches became like the most thirsty furnace, frenziedly devouring the supreme Pangu's heart-blood.

Their flesh brightened inch by inch, bursting forth with a brilliant yet eerie blood-colored divine radiance.

Every drop of blood, every inch of bone, every strand of hair was undergoing an earth-shattering transformation.

Their qi and blood were no longer surging within them, but had turned into substantive thunder, emitting rolling roars.

Boom!

Boom!

Twelve vast, peerless pressures shot up from their bodies, transforming into twelve blood-colored pillars that propped up heaven and earth, tearing the Demon Race's Heavenly Court's endless demonic clouds to shreds!

Under the bolstering of this divine might, the twelve ancestor witches' aura began to climb frenziedly.

No bottleneck.

No obstruction.

Only a frenzied, triumphant advance!

Their power, their aura, their very existence, were infinitely approaching an inconceivable realm.

That realm is called Primordial Origin!

Di Jiang's visage remained grim, yet beneath that grimness lay a cold severity and killing intent capable of freezing eternity.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze piercing the void, directly stabbing at the Demon Emperor Di Jun and Donghuang Taiyi.

"Di Jun, Taiyi."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried a texture like metal grinding on stone; each word weighed more than mountains, striking everyone's hearts.

"To drive my Wu Clan to this point, to expend the Father God's heart-blood, is an honor for your Demon Race."

"The Father God's heart-blood contains, from when the Father God split heaven and earth, the purest law of force!"

"This strike, what can you use to block it?!"

The moment his words fell, Di Jiang once again displayed that supreme aura of looking down on all under heaven, supreme and alone.

The twelve ancestor witches, their hearts and minds in unison.

They stepped forward in unison.

Just a single step.

Boom!

Heaven and earth were overturned, the universe fell silent.

The vast primordial lands stretching billions of li with Mount Buzhou as the epicenter suddenly burst forth with a violent lament that words cannot describe.

It was not a mere tremor, but a shaking of the very foundations of the world.

Countless divine peaks that pierced the clouds and had stood for untold myriad years, without warning, split open on their bodies with myriad black fissures bottomless in depth.

In the next instant, towering cliffs collapsed, massive rocks toppled.

The divine peaks turned to powder, the great mountains reduced to flat ground.

Dust and debris were swept up by an invisible, domineering force into the nine heavens, forming a sand curtain that blotted out the sky, swallowing the light of sun, moon, and stars.

Between heaven and earth, a pallid yellow spread, doom descended.

This horrifying sight caused Di Jun and Taiyi's pupils to contract sharply.

The faint sneer on their lips, born of the situation being settled, instantly stiffened and froze on their faces.

No verbal communication was needed.

Di Jun saw, from the depths of Taiyi's golden eyes, a trace of the same emotion.

Apprehension.

An absolute apprehension, originating from the source of their souls, toward some supreme existence.

Law of force?!

This thought simultaneously exploded in the minds of the two great demon emperors, stirring up towering waves.

How is that possible!

Wasn't that a forbidden Great Dao long lost, dissipated with Pangu's splitting of heaven and earth?!

Among the Three Thousand Great Daos, the law of force stands supreme, honored as the ultimate.

One force can break myriad laws; one force can suppress eternity.

This is no empty boast, but a fear etched deep in the memories of all primordial chaos gods and demons since the world's beginning.

Such prestige, such fear, despite endless ages, have not diminished in the slightest.

Di Jun's fingertip twitched slightly, uncontrollably.

He and Taiyi, as the demon race's heavenly emperors, who govern the stars and oversee all spirits, considered themselves already at the pinnacle of the primordial world.

Yet even as mighty as they are, they have never truly touched such a level of supreme Dao.

That is the domain of the creator god.

The Slaughter Witch Sword, this peerless wicked blade that gathers humanity's endless resentment and the demon race's heavenly stars' killing aura, can it truly shake the twelve ancestor witches at this moment?

This doubt, like a cold nail, was driven hard into Di Jun's heart.

He had no confidence.

He had not a shred of confidence.

Yet, thought aside, as the demon race's emperor, he would not allow himself to show the slightest timidity before his arch-enemy.

That is more disgraceful than defeat.

Hmph.

Di Jun forcibly suppressed the surging shockwaves in his heart, burying that disturbance deep in his eyes, replaced by an even more austere imperial majesty.

What does Pangu's heart blood matter?!

His voice, icy and vast, forcibly drowned out the lament of heaven and earth, echoing in the ears of every living being.

Forcibly urging power you cannot control is nothing but drinking poison to quench thirst!

Just a dying struggle!

My Slay-Witch Sword can still sever your souls and annihilate your true spirits!

Every word of Di Jun's contained indisputable imperial dragon aura, as if he were proclaiming to heaven and earth, and also hypnotizing himself.

Before his voice faded, his great hand, shrouded in Golden Crow Divine Fire, suddenly swept downward.

No extra motion.

Only a single word burst from between his teeth, carrying endless slaughter and resolve.

Slash!

Hum—!

The Slay-Witch Sword received the final command, and the myriad faces of anguished wailing on its blade all at once emitted an ear-piercing screech to the utmost extreme.

The sword's radiance surged.

A blade of lurid green sword light, spanning the entire firmament, tore through the dim yellow sand curtain, carrying the destiny to purge all the Wu Clan bloodlines, and descended fiercely.

This time, the sword's point was no longer aimed at scattered battlefields.

Its target was utterly clear.

Precisely those twelve figures that stood between heaven and earth, emanating the aura of Hongmeng.

Di Jun's intention was obvious.

As long as the twelve ancestral witches die, the source of the Wu Clan's bloodline will be cut off, and the remaining myriad of the Wu Clan are naught but loose sand, not worth fearing.

However, this time, receiving this lethal strike was no longer a hasty defense.

Having received the blessing of Pangu's heart blood, the twelve ancestral witches' aura had already risen to an inconceivable peak.

They are strength.

They are the Dao.

Facing the Slay-Witch Sword's blade that could make even a Great Luo Golden Immortal's soul tremble, not a trace of fear showed on the twelve's faces.

Even a hint of apprehension had vanished.

All that remained was the most primal, pure fighting spirit, and the innate pride of Pangu's descendants.

Break!

Di Jiang roared upward to the heavens.

His voice lacked Di Jun's majesty, yet was more sonorous and unadorned, as if the Great Dao itself were rumbling.

A single word issued.

Upon the bodies of the twelve ancestral witches, twelve different-colored divine radiance burst forth simultaneously.

Space, time, metal, wood, water, fire, earth, thunder, electricity, wind, rain, poison.

The twelve kinds of law-divine light, at this moment, no longer acted independently, but instead intertwined in an unfathomably mysterious manner.

Boom—!

Twelve pillars of light, thick beyond imagination, shot up from the crowns of the twelve ancestral witches, instantly piercing the Nine Heavens cloud layers, shattering the Thirty-Three Heavens, and charging straight into boundless Chaos.

The light pillars stirred the cosmos, tearing apart the universe's star rivers.

Countless stars dimmed under the impact of those light pillars, even deviating from their original orbits.

Immediately after.

Under the gaze of all beings of the Primordial, whose eyes nearly popped out, the twelve ancestral witches performed an act no one could comprehend.

They did not retreat; they advanced.

The twelve towering figures all bent their knees, then suddenly exerted force.

Boom!

The earth was stomped by them into a bottomless abyss.

The twelve figures transformed into twelve streams of light, charging with utter resolve toward the descending lurid green sword river.

They sacrificed no Dharma treasures.

They also used no divine abilities.

They merely poured the full extent of the law power they commanded into their own physical bodies.

With flesh and blood, they hard-clashed the Slay-Witch Sword!

This scene shocked the hearts and minds of countless watching great beings.

Tragic and heroic.

An ineffable tragic heroism enveloped the whole world.

That was the resolve of a moth flying into flame.

That was the valor of knowing it cannot be done yet doing it.

That was the Wu Clan's purest, yet most tragic pride.

At the same time, all beings of the Primordial, whether hidden cultivators in their caves or sages standing on the clouds, instinctively held their breath.

Everyone's gaze was locked firmly upon the impending collision of that single sword and the twelve figures.

This time, finally, the outcome will be decided, ending this war that swept across the Primordial?!

Meanwhile.

In the midst of this boiling devastation, only a single figure stood still, outside the ripples of spacetime, like an immovable reef from ancient times.

Chen Ku

In the depths of his pupils, there was no frenzy, no alarm, not even a trace of the most basic curiosity.

So calm it made one's heart palpitate.

Those eyes reflected two torrents above the firmament capable of obliterating the universe, as if observing an ancient mural long etched into his mind.

The mural's theme was ending.

"The Twelve Ancestral Witches, the Demon Emperor Donghuang!"

Chen Ku's lips moved slightly, uttering words devoid of any emotional fluctuation, merely stating an established fact.

These eight characters, each weighing as much as a star, represented the pinnacle of an era and the source of a myth.

And now, these myths were, in the most brutal fashion, personally carving tombstones for their own age.

No retreat.

No turning back.

Only when one side is utterly annihilated can the victory of the other be declared.

However, when the two extreme forces are equal, victory ceases to exist.

Only mutual annihilation remains.

"So this is how it ends..."

A barely audible whisper escaped Chen Ku's lips, instantly swallowed by the earth-shaking roar.

He himself heard it.

He had already foreseen the result.

From the moment he stood here, seeing the twelve figures piercing heaven and earth and the two golden crows scorching the firmament, the outcome was already written.

The Wu-Yao Great Calamity, the Primordial Shatter.

This is a constant etched at the bottom of the river of time, a tragedy inevitably staged beneath the turning of the Heavenly Dao.

In the past, he had only glimpsed a fragment of this grand tragedy from fragmented texts and later legends.

He had once imagined what this war would look like.

Perhaps it was a clash of divine abilities, treasures unleashed, with billions of demon gods and endless Wu clans fighting to madness.

But only now, witnessing this true scene recreated by time, did he realize how impoverished and ludicrous all his imaginations were.

This is not a war.

This is the mutual devouring of two eras.

It is the ultimate negation of two "Daos".

At this very moment, as he watched the two forces continually rise and press, dyeing the entire sky in chaos hues, a sudden clear understanding welled up in Chen Ku's heart.

A doubt that had long lingered in his heart suddenly cleared up at this moment.

His gaze swept past the violent energy center and precisely aimed at the sole fulcrum supporting heaven and earth.

Mount Buzhou

The Primordial's first divine mountain, where the heavenly pillar stands.

In legend, it is formed from Pangu's spine, indestructible and impervious to all calamities.

But it, after all, was broken.

Later generations only know that the ancestral witch Gonggong, in anger, touched Mount Buzhou, causing the heavens to tilt northwest and the earth to sink southeast.

A single "anger" character, a single "touch" character, reduced this heaven‑shaking event concerning the world's survival to mere impulse and fury of a being.

How absurd.

Gonggong is the water ancestral witch; his power and his wrath can indeed stir up heaven‑flooding waters that inundate the land.

But to claim he could, by his own strength, shatter Pangu's spine?

Chen Ku once believed it, later doubted it, and now he utterly rejects it.

Watching this scene before him, he has now understood why Mount Buzhou broke.