Primordial Era: A Counterattack Against Hongjun Daozu at the Start

"No!" Junior Sister Mingkong suddenly leaped up, pointing her jade bottle at the dissipating souls: "These souls deserve to enter my Western Paradise..."

The words abruptly stopped as the bull-headed ghost guard held out his steel fork, drawing the last wisp of remnant soul into the Soul Refining Pot at his waist.

The gloomy wind before the Six Paths of Reincarnation suddenly ceased, leaving only three hundred golden-robed cultivators standing motionless in the wind. Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva gazed at the empty Netherworld, and the Bodhi seed in his hand cracked with a "snap." This grand plan to ferry souls across the underworld, meticulously planned for a thousand years, had been defeated by the most ordinary official procedure of the Underworld.

Deep within the netherworld, at the entrance to the six realms of reincarnation, the sounds of chanting linger.

Western Buddhist disciples are holding prayer beads to help wandering souls find peace, and the power of merit is constantly accumulating as golden light flows around them.

The leader of the Minotaur Witch Clan shattered the dark mist as they arrived, their black iron chains clanging against their grayish-blue skin.

"Do you really intend to cut off people's chance to cultivate?" The yellow-robed disciple gripped the scripture in his hand, his robes fluttering even without wind.

The bull's head spewed ghostly fire from its nostrils, and its bronze nose ring glowed eerily: "Article 3600 of the Laws of the Underworld: All wandering ghost soldiers shall be dealt with by the Underworld." The mourning staff at its waist suddenly grew three zhang long, instantly snatching away the soul that had just been enveloped in Buddhist light.

Ksitigarbha lowered his eyes and turned the sandalwood prayer beads, and the eighteen relics lit up one by one: "The Six Paths of Reincarnation is the pivot of the Three Realms, how can it be the private property of the Witch Clan?"

"Ridiculous!" Horse-faced stepped out from the ranks of the ghostly soldiers, his iron hooves crushing the Buddhist patterns on the ground. "Since the goddess of the thick earth transformed into reincarnation, when has this netherworld been given the right to point fingers?" The soul-snatching rope transformed into thousands of silver snakes, gathering all the wandering souls within a hundred feet.

The Western followers were so angry that the Buddha's light became disordered, and some even made hand gestures until their faces turned white.

Ksitigarbha suddenly chuckled, and an eight-treasure glazed lamp appeared in his palm: "Since this place is inconvenient, why not find another place to practice?"

Where the sweet dew from the cup fell, a golden lotus pond bloomed on the banks of the River of Oblivion.

Unexpectedly, at the third watch of the night, the gong sounded, and Ox-Head and Horse-Face led the underworld's soldiers riding the waves.

The mourning staff shattered the incantation for rebirth, and the soul-snatching rope pierced the golden lotus of merit, even dragging the newly enlightened spirits into the whirlpool of the River of Oblivion.

The Western disciples were dumbfounded, watching helplessly as their three days of hard work vanished into thin air.

"This is the Netherworld Soul-Seizing Token!" The Ox-Head threw the pale white beast bone token into the River of Oblivion, stirring up a hundred-foot-high black wave. "As long as your three souls and seven spirits are still in the Netherworld, even if you hide under the Bridge of Helplessness..."

The horse-faced demon grinned maliciously, its chains shredding the red spider lilies on the riverbank. "You still can't escape the soul-binding rope!"

Ksitigarbha remained calm and led his disciples to another location to continue the ritual of deliverance for the departed souls. However, the ox-headed and horse-faced demons of the underworld were like maggots clinging to bones, and no matter where the followers went, they were always followed closely by this armored team.

Anyone with eyes could see that the underworld was deliberately obstructing them, but the disciples in the sect could not understand why the Venerable One remained calm in the face of such difficulties.

Whenever the sound of iron chains approached from afar, Ksitigarbha would lead his followers to retreat several miles away from the Samsara Platform. This gradual retreat secretly angered many of his disciples.

This time, the Western Sect had been planning for a long time to avenge their previous humiliation. At first, the ritual of sending off the dead at the entrance to the cycle of reincarnation went quite smoothly, which not only accumulated merit but also dampened the spirits of the witch clan.

Unexpectedly, the underworld unleashed its deadly move of sending ghostly soldiers on a patrol, not only putting the Western Sect in a dilemma but also shattering its carefully laid plans.

If they were to engage in a direct conflict, the witch clan would have the noble right to uphold the order of the underworld; but if they were to give up now, they would find it hard to relinquish the readily available opportunity for merit.

In this back-and-forth struggle, no one realized that they were getting further and further away from the center of reincarnation.

At this moment, a cold glint appeared on Ksitigarbha's lips, and when he looked up at the relentlessly pursuing Yin soldiers, a cold glint flashed in his eyes.

Suddenly, the sky changed dramatically, and several black shadows carrying demonic energy broke through the clouds and plummeted straight towards Ox-Head and Horse-Face.

"The lackeys of the Witch Clan are here! Men, kill them!"

Amidst deafening battle cries, hundreds of elite demon warriors materialized. These ancient sworn enemies were filled with intense hatred upon seeing each other, and in the blink of an eye, the area outside the Reincarnation Platform had transformed into a battlefield of carnage.

Ksitigarbha secretly ordered his disciples to remain still, and sure enough, the demon horde swept past the followers and directly engaged in battle with the Yin soldiers of the Witch Clan.

The Ox-Headed Yin General brandished his steel fork and roared, "Perfect timing! Let these hairy beasts witness the power of the Reincarnation Platform!"

Before the words were even finished, the two torrents collided with a deafening roar, and the grudges accumulated over a thousand years erupted completely at that moment.

On the Netherworld Battlefield, the strongest fighters in the Witch Clan were only at the Golden Immortal level, and not even a Great Witch capable of condensing the Ancestral Witch Dharma Image had appeared.

In contrast, demonic clouds surged beneath the sky, and more than ten pillars of light, unique to Great Luo Golden Immortals, pierced the heavens, their chilling pressure causing ripples to spread throughout the space.

As the two armies clashed, the followers of the Western Sect suddenly seemed to awaken to something, their expressions revealing a subtle realization. They watched as the Wu tribe's battle formation, which had taken the lead in beating its war drums, suddenly realized with a start that the Venerable Ksitigarbha had previously yielded to Ox-Head and Horse-Face.

It was actually a strategic move with profound implications; those seemingly cowardly retreats were in fact a way to lure the elite of the Witch Clan away from the protection of the Six Paths of Reincarnation.

At this moment, the battlefield is a thousand miles away from the center of reincarnation. Even if there are still witch clan reinforcements deep in the underworld, it will be difficult for them to come to the rescue before the demon clan's sword formation can surround them.

What's even more ingenious is that all the killings here are carried out by the demon race, so even if the ancestral witches are enraged in the future, the causal threads will only be tied to the sworn enemy, the demon race.

The blood feud between the Lich and Demon races has been an inscription on the laws of heaven and earth since the beginning of time.

The golden Arhats watching the battle could not hide their joy, as if they foresaw a future scenario: if the Witch Clan retreated to the underworld in pain, the Buddha's light, which would deliver wronged souls, would flow unimpeded; if the Witch Clan continued their pursuit, the demon clan's sharp blades would relentlessly reap their wounds like a persistent carbuncle. No matter how the game unfolded, the authority of the Six Paths of Reincarnation would ultimately be stained with the gilded Sanskrit of the Western Paradise.

The image of Ksitigarbha sits serenely on a lotus throne, his gaze piercing through the smoke of battle. The prayer beads in his hand flow with the power of cause and effect; what appears to be a random encounter is in fact the optimal solution selected from nine hundred deductions.

The moment Ox-Head and Horse-Face stepped out of the Samsara Barrier, the outcome of this game, with heaven and earth as the chessboard, was already decided.

The moment the demon soldiers tore through the witch clan's battle formation, the mandala patterns on Ksitigarbha's robe glowed faintly. The guardian of the six realms of reincarnation had finally fallen into the net of cause and effect.

The biggest question in Ksitigarbha's mind was how the mysterious leader who held the reins of power over the human race would break the deadlock.

Will they stand idly by and watch the witch clan perish, or will they lead the elite forces of the Netherworld out in full force?

Regardless of the other party's choice, he had already prepared a countermeasure, after all, the lives of a few underworld officials were far from enough to satisfy his plans.

The moment the elite demons appeared, the Wu tribe deep within the Nine Netherworlds sensed the disturbance. Zhou Yi stared at the churning demonic clouds in the water mirror, his fingertips lightly tapping the table: "The Western Pure Land is actually colluding with the demons?"

"My lads, follow me into battle!" Yu Qiang, the ancestral witch, raised his arm and shouted, frost freezing between his joints.

The killing intent inherited in the bloodline of the Twelve Ancestral Witches boiled over. The blood feud between the Witch and Demon races, which has continued since the primordial era, can only be settled with blood and fire.

Zhou Yi did not stop this tribe eager for revenge; instead, he watched with great interest.

Although the Ox-Headed Underworld Messengers wandering on the road to the Yellow Springs seem isolated and helpless, the real key to victory lies hidden behind the mist.