Many children, many blessings; the twelve ancestral witches forced marriages throughout the primordi

Wu Tian coldly closed the scroll of the [Pseudo-Investiture of the Gods] in his hand. He could clearly feel that the dozen or so Taiyi Golden Immortal level true spirits inside the scroll were frantically crashing around, emitting silent screams of despair.

"Don't waste your energy. Once you're in the Lord's hands, there's only one fate for you: to spend your lives cleaning toilets for that old man Haotian in the Heavenly Court." Wutian's lips curled into a mocking smile as he casually stuffed the scroll back into the lining of his black robe.

After collecting the heads, Wutian's gaze immediately fell on the tables in the center of the main hall.

The place was piled high with top-grade spirit stones, boxes of low-grade spirit crystals, and countless pieces of mortal gold and silver jewelry that the group of bald monks hadn't had time to divide up.

Wu Tian's current identity is the number one employee of the Pangu Palace Underworld. Lin Xuan had long instilled in him the fine tradition of the "demolition office" - leaving no trace of life.

He didn't put on any airs of a demon lord at all. He strode over and opened the high-grade storage bag at the waist of the Vajra Arhat. With extremely nimble hands, he shoved all the spiritual items on the table, along with the loose silver coins offered by mortals, into the bag, leaving not a single copper coin for the Western Sect.

After finishing the robbery, Wutian glanced at the corpses scattered on the ground and the empty table, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Isn't it a bit too easy for that old thief Zhunti to just leave like this? The master said that to kill someone, you have to destroy their spirit. You have to make them suffer to death." Wutian stroked his chin, and the various tricks that Lin Xuan usually taught them instantly flashed through his mind.

He walked to the corpse of the Vajra Arhat, stretched out his right hand, and very roughly dipped his index finger into the golden blood oozing from the bald monk's neck.

Then, Wutian turned and walked to the most conspicuous white jade wall in the main hall. He exerted force with his wrist, and the perfected spatial laws mixed with demonic energy forcibly engraved the golden blood of Buddhism into the deepest part of the wall bricks.

He deliberately imitated the arrogant and domineering handwriting of the Chan Sect, leaving two lines of large characters on the wall in an extremely arrogant manner:

"Western remnants, swindlers and fraudsters! Guang Chengzi, the chief disciple of Yuanshi Tianzun of the Chan Sect, is passing through this place and is acting on behalf of Heaven! Slaughter all the bald monks in the world!"

After finishing the last stroke, Wutian took two steps back with great satisfaction, admiring his masterpiece.

"This handwriting, this tone, is even more arrogant than Guang Chengzi himself. If that old idiot Zhunti saw this, he'd definitely be so angry he'd go to Yuxu Palace to cause trouble for Yuanshi Tianzun." Wutian was overjoyed. This tactic of shifting blame was simply taking despicable behavior to the extreme.

After cleaning up the scene, Wutian pulled his hood up tightly again. With a slight shake of his sky-covering cloak, he transformed into an extremely concealed black streak of light, smashing through the spatial barrier of Xiniu Hezhou and rushing headlong towards the "Sending Immortals to Heaven Altar" at the bottom of the Netherworld to report back.

……

At the same time.

In the primordial Shang Dynasty, in the backyard of the Pangu Palace.

The sun shines brightly here, a gentle breeze is just right, and the aroma of medicinal herbs wafts through the top-grade innate spiritual medicine valley in the backyard, making one feel comfortable with just a whiff.

During the lunch break, the entire Pangu Temple enjoyed a rare moment of tranquility.

In a huge pavilion carved from a single piece of the finest warm jade on the west side of the backyard, Wu Tian, ​​the ancestor of wind, lay shirtless on his back on a white marble table, fast asleep.

Tianwu, this rough and uncouth man, made an extremely terrifying noise when he slept. Every time he snored, two extremely fierce gusts of innate wind would burst out of his nostrils. The sound of his snoring made the star-patterned glazed tiles on the roof of the pavilion rattle loudly, and even the leaves of the ancient iron trees next to him were blown into the air.

Just as Tianwu was sleeping soundly, two small heads peeked out furtively from the dense thicket of top-grade Crimson Flame Peonies outside the pavilion.

It was none other than Lin Dasheng, the number one leader of the "mischievous kids" group in Pangu Palace, and Lin Ting, the newly promoted destruction king who followed him, nicknamed "Leaky Little Cotton-padded Jacket".

Lin Ting was wearing a little purple dress, her chubby face flushed with excitement. She covered her mouth tightly with her hands, afraid that she would laugh out loud, but between her fair fingers, extremely violent purple sparks were crackling and popping out. She was a nuclear-level cutie who could unleash a thunderstorm when she got excited.

Lin Dasheng had a wicked grin on his face, and the golden monkey tail behind him was swaying back and forth with extreme smugness.

In his left hand he carried a heavy wooden bucket filled with a "powerful, colorfast purple dye" that he had spent the entire morning brewing using premium squid ink from the East China Sea mixed with the cold spring water of Taiyin. In his right hand he held a large calligraphy brush, thicker than his arm.

"Twenty-three sister, you keep an eye on things over there. Eighth Uncle is sleeping like a log. Today I'm going to make sure he gets a souvenir of his treasure." Lin Dasheng lowered his voice and raised his eyebrows at Lin Ting with extreme arrogance.

"Brother Great Sage, hurry up! I'll keep watch for you!" Lin Ting's face lit up with excitement, and because he was so excited, a small lightning halo exploded on the ahoge (cowlick) on his head.

Lin Dasheng tiptoed into the pavilion.

He immediately spotted the blue cloth bag that Tianwu was using as a pillow.

This is no ordinary bag; it's a top-grade wind bag that Tianwu has nurtured for tens of thousands of years with his own essence. It's filled with the Nine Heavens Gale Wind, capable of instantly tearing apart the physical body of a Great Luo Golden Immortal. Tianwu usually treasures it like his lifeblood, and he gets furious if anyone touches it.

Lin Dasheng, in a truly despicable manner, leaned over and dipped his brush into the dye bucket, taking a large mouthful.

The ink was thick and glossy. Lin Dasheng didn't hold back at all, and with a flourish of his brush, he skillfully drew an enormous, crooked, fat pig's head right in the center of the blue wind bag. Not satisfied with just drawing the pig's head, he arrogantly wrote the four characters "Stupid Uncle Ba" next to it.

The handwriting was so large that it almost filled half of the bag.

After finishing his painting, Lin Dasheng admired his masterpiece with great satisfaction, then clutched his stomach and retreated back to the flowerbed.

"Look at the pig's head I drew, isn't it rounder than Uncle Zhurong's old face?" Lin Dasheng boasted to Lin Ting with great pride.

Lin Ting peeked out and saw that the enormous pig's head, coupled with Tian Wu's loud snoring, made the scene utterly comical.

"Pfft!"

Lin Ting, still a child at heart, couldn't help but burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.

That smile had no effect; her emotional fluctuations as the Thunder King instantly reached their peak. Without warning, her fingertips, which had been emitting only a faint glow, unleashed a bolt of purple lightning as thick as a bucket!

"Sizzle—Boom!"

This extremely violent bolt of lightning traveled more than ten feet and struck Tian Wu's bare foot with great precision while he was fast asleep!