Chapter Forty-Five: The Cataclysm of Humanity (Conclusion)

“How did you get here?” Xuandaozi addressed the graceful woman before him. She was none other than Houtu, the Ancestral Witch of the Wu Tribe, who had come alone to rescue Tongtian and the human race.

“Why shouldn’t I be here? I am the benevolent incarnation of Fellow Daoist Houtu, known as the Ancestral Witch Houtu,” she replied, her gaze steady as it met Xuandaozi’s.

“I am likewise the benevolent incarnation of Fellow Daoist Tongtian, called Xuandaozi.” At last, he understood the reason for Houtu’s appearance—this was the benevolent incarnation of Empress Houtu herself. With her identity clear, Xuandaozi addressed her directly.

Empress Houtu, having transformed herself into the Netherworld to cultivate the Dao and receive the descending soul bestowed by the Great Way, could not leave the Netherworld during this time. Thus, she had severed her benevolent incarnation to fulfill the wishes she herself could not accomplish.

“Houtu Ancestral Witch, this is a war between the demon and human races. It would be best for the Ancestral Witch not to create trouble for the Wu Tribe.” His formation had been broken. Though he might still raise another great array, his spiritual power was nearly exhausted. As the leader of the demon tribe, which ruled all under heaven, he could hardly afford to neglect psychological warfare.

“You and I, Wu and demon, are destined for battle. Spare me your threats and enticements. If you persist in your bloodthirsty slaughter of the human race, you’ll have to step over my body first!” Houtu Ancestral Witch knew well that the Wu and demon tribes would surely vie for supremacy over the primordial world, and since war was inevitable, why not cut down more demons now and earn greater merit?

“Hmph!” The Demon Emperor Dijun seized a gourd and removed its stopper. Instantly, a beam of light shot toward Houtu. She stamped her foot to the ground, and mountains sprang up in an instant, shielding her from the attack and impaling several unfortunate demon soldiers atop their peaks.

Enraged, Dijun struck the gourd again, unleashing countless beams of light toward Xuandaozi and Houtu. Houtu swiftly stepped forward to shield Xuandaozi, blocking Dijun’s assault with her innate turbid energy.

In the midst of his duel with Donghuang Taiyi, Tongtian stole a glance at the scene below and was stunned by what he saw. Could it be? Tongtian could have believed it if his elder brothers, Grand Supreme Elder Lord or Primordial Heavenly Lord, had come to assist, but how had Zhenyuanzi and the Ancestor Hongyun also arrived to aid them?

Still, since they had come to help the human race, they were all friends.

With Zhenyuanzi and Ancestor Hongyun—both peak Golden Immortals—joining the fray, the balance of the battle shifted instantly, sealing the demon tribe’s defeat. While quantity can give rise to quality, this was the primordial world, where strength was paramount, and the power of top experts could not be disregarded. Furthermore, many great demons had already depleted their spiritual power in the fighting, hastening the demon tribe’s collapse.

Sensing the tides turning, Donghuang Taiyi sounded a bell, intending to break away from Tongtian. But Tongtian was no fool, clinging tightly to Donghuang Taiyi and refusing to let him advance.

Seeing his army in utter rout, Dijun lowered the gourd and ceased his attacks. With a soft sigh, he said to Houtu and Xuandaozi, “You have won this day, but do not think the demon tribe will never return.” He then transmitted a silent order for retreat to Donghuang Taiyi, who shook his head and vanished in a flash.

Upon hearing Dijun’s command, the ten demon saints—no, now only nine—fled as if unshackled, disappearing even faster than rabbits.

As Tongtian and his companions descended, gazing upon the mountains strewn with corpses, Tongtian was reminded of the cruelty of war—a harsh truth none could understand without living through it.

Houtu Ancestral Witch sat cross-legged and began to recite the “Houtu Rebirth Sutra,” guiding the souls of the fallen humans to the Six Paths of the Netherworld, where they would be reborn.

Tongtian swept his divine sense across the field and discovered that out of three million, fewer than one hundred thousand humans had survived this battle. The slaughter was even swifter than cannibalism. He could not help but clench his fists as tears of remorse streamed down his cheeks.

Mourning was necessary, but there was still much to be done. Tongtian forced himself to gather his sorrow, turning his grief into resolve. The hatred he felt was not for the demon tribe, but for his own lack of strength—his failure to protect his people.

“This great calamity upon the human race could not have been weathered without the three of you. On behalf of the human race, I thank you all.” Tongtian composed himself and looked to Houtu Ancestral Witch, Zhenyuanzi, and Ancestor Hongyun, bowing deeply in gratitude along with his benevolent and malevolent incarnations.

“There’s no need for such courtesy, Fellow Daoist,” Zhenyuanzi and his companions replied, returning the gesture upon seeing Tongtian’s sincerity.

The group then cleansed the blood from the mountain slopes with their powers. Tongtian, seeing the river still choked with bodies and its waters stained red, closed his eyes in silent sorrow. Drawing upon the depths of his soul, he sent all that carnage gently into the earth, while the earth element circled about them. Only in the somber mood of Tongtian and his companions did the bleak scene fade from sight.

Once the survivors had been comforted, Houtu Ancestral Witch took her leave and returned to Buzhou Mountain. Tongtian, Zhenyuanzi, and Ancestor Hongyun ascended to the Five Villages Temple on Longevity Mountain.

“Elder brother, although we failed in our conquest of the human race, our goal has been achieved,” said Donghuang Taiyi, standing beside the throne in the Golden Crow Hall of the Solar Palace.

“Indeed. And what of the Exorcist Sword’s progress?” The resentment of the human race was a great boon to the demon tribe, but a dire harm to the Wu tribe. The Wu tribe did not cultivate their souls and knew little of cause and effect, leaving them at a disadvantage in this regard. Dijun glanced at Donghuang Taiyi as he spoke.

It was this secret that had driven the demon tribe to mobilize their entire people against the humans—they recognized humanity’s advantage. After all, the demon tribe’s birth rate paled in comparison; while pigs might bear large litters, these were untransformed and unintelligent. In contrast, human families often raised four or five children each. The human race was destined to be the principal race of the primordial world, outstripping all others in learning and survival.

Due to these factors, the demon tribe was forced to slaughter humans to secure their own living space, a necessity that even the mightiest demons dreaded. Some might ask if the demon tribe feared the consequences of cause and effect, but since they ruled the stars, their celestial power and the might of the solar star benefited the primordial world, and thus Dijun had no fear. Yet he would never have imagined that, “a hundred years hence,” his own children would pay the price for his sins with their lives.

“Here it is.” A sword appeared in Donghuang Taiyi’s hand, its blade emitting a chill so intense that all present shivered and dared not look directly at it. The sword regarded them like a sovereign, its pride radiating from its form.

Dijun saw the sword’s fearsome bearing and could not help but laugh aloud on his throne, his laughter echoing through the grand hall.