What neither the Twelve Ancestral Witches nor the Three Pure Ones realized was that while they traded life-shattering blows, a pair of eyes from the Sun Star watched with clinical, predatory interest. Ling Xiao was not merely observing; he was dissecting their every movement, absorbing the essence of their struggle like a scholar at a masterclass.
The aftershocks of the titanic clash rippled through the eastern reaches of the Honghuang world, jarring dozens of hidden experts from their meditations.
"The Three Pure Ones... they actually broke through?"
"And a Quasi-Saint has risen from the ranks of the Witches?"
The shock was a cold weight. It wasn't just the strength of the Sanqing that unsettled them, but the realization that the Witches—those "fools" who supposedly knew nothing but blood and bone—had somehow outpaced the "refined" cultivators of the world. The gap in power was becoming an abyss.
Mighty leaders of the Ten Thousand Races—Bai Ze, Ji Meng, and Yingzhao—felt the suffocating aura of the Ancestral Witches pressing down from the horizon. Their expressions turned grim. They had entered Zixiao Palace with the hope of bridging the distance, but the sermon had only seen them fall further behind. While the Witches were stepping into the realm of legends, the strongest among the various clans were still struggling at the peak of the Grand Unity realm.
"Bai Ze, speak!" Ji Meng snarled, his face dark with urgency. "If this keeps up, our people won't have a patch of dirt left to call home!"
The reality was stark. For ten thousand years, the Witch Clan had been an unstoppable tide, seizing spiritual veins and occupying vast territories. The living space for the Ten Thousand Races was shrinking by the day.
"Why is Nuwa taking so long to act?" Gui Che asked, his voice sharp with dissatisfaction. "She promised us leadership before the sermon, yet here we are, hiding like rats in a cellar."
"Patience," Bai Ze replied, his voice a calm anchor in the rising panic. He waved his feather fan slowly. "Nuwa's intent was clear back at the Palace. She will step forward once she has finalized the severing of her corpses. Not a moment before."
"It's a tragedy," Ji Meng sighed, a look of profound regret crossing his features. "If only the Golden Crows would take the lead. Rumor says Ling Xiao has already reached the Quasi-Saint level. Bai Ze... perhaps we should make one more trip to the Sun Star?"
Bai Ze paused, the movement of his fan coming to a temporary halt. He shook his head. "There is no point. They spat on Saint Hongjun's suggestion to lead the Heavenly Court. If they won't answer the Saint, why would they answer us?"
"Forget it," Jiu Ying spat, letting out a short, mocking laugh. "In my view, the Golden Crows are simply terrified of the Witches. What good is finding them? Even if Ling Xiao is a Quasi-Saint, can he stop this tide? Can he take on all twelve of them by himself? Laughable."
"You speak as if Nuwa alone can change the weather," Ji Meng retorted, shrugging his shoulders.
"Ji Meng! Are you calling me a liar?" Jiu Ying roared, his aura flaring as he stepped toward his comrade.
"Enough!"
Bai Ze slammed his fan against his palm, the sound echoing like a gavel. "Stop this bickering."
He looked around the cave, his eyes glinting with a secret confidence. "I have already established contact with Kunpeng. When the time is right, he will stand alongside Nuwa and Fuxi to forge the Ten Thousand Races into a single, unified force."
The silence that followed was absolute. The gathered experts stared at Bai Ze in disbelief. They hadn't expected the strategist to have already snared the Master of the Northern Sea.
"Kunpeng is on the verge of severing his corpses," Bai Ze continued, his composure unshakable. "With him, Nuwa, and Fuxi, we will have the high-end power we need. Combine that with our combined numbers, and we might finally have a chance to breathe."
The mood in the cave shifted instantly. Three potential Quasi-Saints was a game-changer. It justified Bai Ze's decision to ignore the Three Crows; this coalition was far more formidable than a single star-god, no matter how strong he might be. Even a fool could see the math.
"The Sanqing are currently bleeding the Witches dry at East Kunlun," Bai Ze said, standing up. "This is our opening. I will make a quiet journey to Mount Buzhou to finalize terms with Nuwa. We move now, while the world is looking elsewhere."
He turned to Ji Meng. "You stay behind this time. I don't need any 'impulsive' energy on this trip."
The experts dispersed, fading into the mists to begin the secret mobilization of their kin.
Far to the west, atop the jagged peaks of Mount Sumeru, the mood was far more bitter.
The Western Sages, Jieyin and Zhunti, felt the shockwaves from East Kunlun and realized they had been lapped once again. The Sanqing had surpassed them.
They should have been the first. They were already at the threshold of perfection long before the sermon. But the damage dealt by the Hongmeng Cauldron had been more than physical; it had been a lingering rot that delayed their breakthrough by centuries.
"Those damn Crows... damn that Ling Xiao!" Zhunti's face was a mask of suppressed rage. "If not for that ambush, we would be the ones looking down from the Quasi-Saint realm right now!"
The memory of the defeat was a jagged thorn in his side—humiliation piled upon humiliation. It wasn't just the pain; it was the powerlessness. The fact that Ling Xiao had crippled them without even appearing in person haunted his meditations.
"Once we break through," Zhunti hissed, looking to his brother for validation, "we go back. We wash away this stain."
Jieyin sat silent for a long moment, his eyes flickering with a thousand rapid calculations. "I suspect that even as Quasi-Saints, revenge will not be a simple matter."
"How can you say that?"
"By the time we step up," Jieyin explained, a wry, tired smile touching his lips, "Ling Xiao will have moved further ahead. Combine his growth with the other two Crows and the defensive arrays of the Sun Star... seeking his life would be a fool's errand. We might suppress him, but we could never kill him."
"Then what?" Zhunti demanded, his voice rising in frustration. "Does the debt just vanish?"
He paused, a soul-searching question finally bubbling to the surface. "Why is it that he didn't even go to the Palace, yet he's still standing above us? How?"
Jieyin sighed. "The world is full of hidden opportunities. But his refusal to listen to the Dao is his greatest mistake. During the next sermon, the Saint will officially accept disciples. As long as we secure those seats, a mere Golden Crow becomes nothing more than an ant under our feet."
Zhunti's eyes lit up. The logic was sound. Strength was one thing, but the backing of a Saint was absolute.
"Then we slay the corpses now," Jieyin said, his voice turning solemn and cold. "We become Quasi-Saints to take our seats at the front of the line. Everything else can wait."