The Five-Color Luanning Bird bristled its plumage in rage upon hearing these words, the vibrant crest atop its head standing erect. Glorious radiance emanated from its body—a fury flaring from its eyes in murderous streaks.
“Human, do you know whom you’re addressing?!” its voice resounded, firm as clashing metal, steeped in regal authority.
“Nothing else but a bird; barely food,” retorted the Little Rascal, casually dismissing the challenge as he threw a scornful glance toward the avian menace.
The celestial bird screeched an almighty Luanning, radiating an auric blaze. With a flap of wings, it summoned a brilliant flurry of colored plumes—projectiles akin to divine arrows of myriad hues, splitting the skyline as they screamed toward the forehead of the young boy.
“Roar!”
Emitting a golden flare so intense it veiled the scenery, the Nine-Headed Lion lunged, swallowing the incoming barrage in blinding luminary. It caught and suspended the arrowed feathers midair.
“Friend Luanning, what is your intention?” asked the Lion coolly, its brows lowering into dissatisfaction.
“I mean nothing, Luanning Brother. Let us not resort to conflict,” replied the Niaoling, its golden mane glistening beneath the sun as it stayed its comrade by the weight of familial allegiance—the ancient alliance of families with deep roots between its own and the Niaoling lineage.
“You think you have it in you,” muttered the Little Rascal toward the lion companion, already envisioning the unique poultry roast.
Flaring again, plumage shimmered with multicolored sheen, the crimson glint of rage glowing fiercely in the eyes of the Luanning. “Speak the words again, Human!”
The brattish youth turned a deaf ear and stepped ahead instead, eyes hard and unimpressed as his face darkened at being treated a potential quarry—nobody dare threaten him!
Amongst stunned onlookers, whispers murmured: “This lad from Mankind bears a mighty edge—he’s completely unafraid.”
“How presumptuous!” shouted the Three-Eyed Race elder, a new challenge in his frosty chuckle even before the Luanning took flight again, adding its own wrath toward the arrogant mortal.
“I do not instigate—only when instigated,” answered the defiant boy, turning toward the pair, his tone flippant.
“We’ve said they bear humanoid forms—we won’t feast on you, just don’t provoke me, you lads!”
The Three-eyes’ sibling leaders’ countenance darkled—they rarely found targets of aggression this audacious.
“Nobody challenges us openly like this anymore,” murmured one.
Then, amidst the commotion, an icy laugh rang forth: “Ah…it is you again!”
From fog emerged a monstrous serpent of striking crimson flesh and a bifurcated body from the shoulders onward—three pairs of limbs and four wings sprouting from its back—a vision wrought in gleaming, metallic red scales. It was a Fattail—an ancestral bloodline.
The creature slinked into view, memories flaring of the day at Duan Kong City; their past clash a vivid echo. The snake was poised for revenge this time, poised to unleash its fury upon Little Rascal once more.
“Earth-crawler… you came back? If you test my patience again today, I shall not excuse it,” warned the boy sharply.
Inside majestic gates of the mountain monastery, ethereal lights danced amidst the hazy expanse—a rumored haven where potent artifacts, awakened to sentience, soared in their glory. Meanwhile the area beyond bore silent witnesses—creatures of all realms gathering but dared make even the slightest movement.
The serpent growled in annoyance, crimson flesh radiating auricular waves—gaze piercing, eyes freezing cold—as it addressed the boy: “It isn’t the last city, where old kin of yours shielded you. You are left without their wings of providence now.”
“Well! There’s the fire,” exclaimed a Flame Crow, its dark form cloaking in tendrils of obsidian flame.
The Nine-Headed Lion inwardly winced; tensions mounting amidst ancestral forces with histories of bloodline clout coiling together. Chaos was inevitable.
“Grand Crimson!” cried the boy as his eyes lit in anticipation.
From within the gathering stepped the bird named Grand Crimson, flapping joyfully to stand beside the young figure.
“Grand Crimson Bird, it is time—you’d better prepare. Wash your black wok and begin boiling—we’re about to feast together!”
Arching a brow but soon relenting at the idea of an ancient-blood stew to enjoy himself later after indulging, the avian friend quippled eagerly.
“Toil time! Boiling water!” And with an adventurous grin, off set he scoured the spring water nearby.
The Five-Color Luanning was on an edge—it had been about to soar until being restrained by the Lion’s golden grip. The feline patriarch remained determined to secure the bird—both creatures belonged under old friendship oaths, sacred between two great kindreds.
“Cross the thin line between fate—and this fate was your making!” cried Three-Occlus’s eldest.
Blue beams from his forehead pierced through the gathering atmosphere—a powerful force met only by brute force from the boy who intercepted it effortlessly.
The moment an enormous slab ten thousand pounds crashed head-to-head against that beam, it splintered, erupting in cloud-like mist, particles of dust drifting silently in defeat. Such strength rattled those watching, their blood chilling, skins prickled with apprehension.
“Crack!”
From Little Rascal’s hand blazed golden light—a crackling bolt surged against that same azure energy. In a flash, a blinding explosion of energy lit the skyline once more before raining luminous sparks down to the earth, sizzling into ground and stone. The residual heat scarred the terrain, chasms gaping open ominously.
“Skill in motion!” the elder complimented.
Without hesitation upon planting feet that sent thunderous ripples through ground, he erupted skyward. With an avian flourish, like a diving thunderbolt from atop mountain peaks itself, his essence was palpable terror—one could say a raging storm from the mountains had descended directly in challenge.
Gasps surged across spectators. Some described him aptly in a simile: A terrifying embodiment of wrath—an earthly humanoid incarnate of mythic beasts.
“He’s immense power—three-eyes race indeed bears monstrous strength and blood-gifts unmeasurable compared to others.”
The prodigious elder dove straight forward, stirring up chaotic maelstrom winds. Dust danced while celestial aura shone amidst thunderous gusts of terrifying intensity.
Just as the on-looking group quaked in horror at this approaching menace—Nine-Heads turned away. Only he comprehended young master Rascal’s physical prowess, the danger in attacking so rashly. He empathized—he pitied the foolish foe.
“Boom!”
An explosion of blinding blue erupted again—the attacker from Three-Eyes race dropped through altitude onto Shi Yi’s brow, a bold declaration—a bid of dominance meant to smash his prey’s forehead. Yet, the defiant boy stood still, bright and alert as he reached with just one arm—a simple palm that extinguished glowing blue markings that had once burned in dominance. With that, he clutched a trembling enemy ankle with terrifying divine strength—lifting with a heaving motion before swinging him down hard.
The earth quaked—a form crushed beneath the blow trembles, gasping with a cough that splattered crimson mist as dust rose skywards. Awe seized onlookers. The Three-Eyed had surged in power, but now—humiliated.
The elder, nearly convulsing mid-air with rage, fought through blinding pain before attempting again—a sudden twist only to meet the same ruthless fate; captured once more before impact flung his senses from reality into blackout oblivion—an unconscious body now crumpled and wounded in multiple places.
A sudden call rose in fury. “Unhand my elder brother!” charged the other Three-Ocular warrior, cleaved the skies anew like scorching blue flame, aimed for the opponent.
“Plume!” came a defiant cry from the child, his captive raised as shield blocking incoming onslaught, blood spraying in arcs as screams erupted anew—barely surviving another near-dissector blow, only narrowly escaping death’s door.
“Brother! I charge onward now!” cried another attacker—fiercely rushing in. However his path was barred abruptly—the youth turned and raised his prize again like a war-flag while radiant golden lightning crackled from within his figure, unleashing a storm of thundering rage directly forward.
“Bam!”
Opponent faltering—the strike deflected in partial success with an eruption of crimson liquid spilling from mouths and singed limbs. He stumbled, dazed—the might had shaken him, even if not destroyed.
“This… was underwhelming…” complained the boy.
Contrastically—the spectators perceived otherwise—astonishment and terror filled minds witnessing just two moves bringing a crushing fall to the once-fearsome warriors.
A golden figure darted forth again—inundating the space with radiant glyph torrents that overwhelmed those already weakened, rendering them defenseless.
An abrupt impact. The thunderstorm hit.
Another elder of the Three-Eyen crumbled down, wreathed with blackening soot and smoke, jerking spasmodically upon collapse—his lifeblood draining.
Rascal placed aside the pair beside each other as if arranging defeated dolls, their forms battered beyond rising power.
Gasps of dread echoed again—an unrelenting brute this child of thunder and fury.
“Mortal Forms… loathe these old-bloods with humanoid shape.”
Amused yet gruff murmurs from the young boy rippled outward, his tone bitter indeed as many stared—truly he considered feeding on them all!
“And the Aviary beauty—flambé or steamed… delicious both ways.”
Shi Yi shifted direction; he zeroed on the Five-Color Luanning—a legendary creature of iridescent brilliance with gleaming plumages—yet at that very second… fear flickered subtly.
Two strong brothers now fallen… their defeat immediate and merciless… perhaps engaging him isn’t a good idea.
“Hey, I’m talking to you—the cauldron calls,” urged Shi Yi, striding toward the feathered divinity as intimidation loomed.
“You’re insufferably arrogant—I challenge your doom!” cried Luanning with a rageful shriek as it broke free. Flaring its plumage midair into luminous torrents of glyphic energy across the skies—it prepared to counterattack.
However, as the confrontation was about to unfold, shadowed from the sky came a sudden scarlet flash—a silent, venomous ambush aimed at the boy’s skull.
An ambush from Fattail! A palm-length scalded red sword surged with fierce fiery intent from the monstrous maw of the serpentine creature—the blade dripping in ominous bloodred luster.
*DING!*
The dart shifted direction slightly—a finger striking the side to disarm. Instead, the spirit-forged blade veered sharply; fire surged, lacerating nearby limbs briefly.
With this—the battlefield erupted.
Glowing script fell like raining stars from the avian mage. Earthward came Fattail—feathered storm versus fire-serpent venom—an avian serpent alliance of thunderous brilliance, poised to overwhelm.
Rascal released his reserve—his sacred mirror, the Suanni artifact roaring lightning that struck Luanning, searing its brilliant feathers. The bird cawed in agony from blackened plumage.
“Assail her!!” Roar filled the sky once anew as five-colored aura radiated outward.
The Luanning’s talismans spun like a brilliant fan—an explosion of multicolored energy erupting from it like fireworks from feathers, crashing down into the ground, blasting an immense crater with deafening thundercrack.
The boy twisted to evade—lightning dancing about as he pivoted—Fattail’s peril demanding top priority.
*CHIME!*
Flames reignited afresh—an ethereal gleaming red blade sang through the air; sharpened with bloodcurdling fury. This sword, hewn from a venomous Fang itself—burnt crimson like a glowing ruby.
Draconian heat coursed as it pierced the earth’s skin itself—hundreds of zhang split by an infernal arc as the boy barely dodged by reflex, teetering at the very edge of a newly opened yawning abyss beneath him, forcing total focus upon this deadly duel.
Shi focused first upon Fattail—seeking to eliminate its advantage—lightning coiled around as golden lightning figure launched forth from his being, weaponizing the mirror while thunder re-armed its power.
Onlookers stood spellbound; his visage, reminiscent to an incandescent juvenile thunder god—a form radiating with sheer godly energy. Fear lanced into even seasoned spectators from such a presence.
Fattail’s scalp paled instantly—an unexpected monstrous leap in powers from the young opponent’s first appearance. A recent ascension in rank and status left Fattail unexpecting, its original plans focused upon the consumption of young Rascal’s rare sacred blood before this meeting.
Still, even after such revelations—The Fattail still boasted an awe-inspiring might within ancient breeds, an unrivaled force among his ancient peers for sheer might and mastery.
Firestorm erupted as the creature’s power erupted forth once again—an inferno that shrouded its form. Crimson radiance danced across every spell while earth cracked and stone disintegrated.
That fang transformed into the flying sword, carving and cleaving all in its path as those around him gasped and murmured—unaccustomed to anything with such unchecked might.
*CHING!*
But now—it was Rascal charging directly into battle anew, clashing openly. Brilliant glyphs lit up while lightning crackled—an onslaught aiming specifically at that blood-dripping vermilion blade, striving now for its surrender in ringing clashes.
Fattail’s expression changed—after dozens beyond count of spells spent without fruition, desperation stirred—the beast began weighing retreat while aerial combat persisted as an ongoing distraction—but now escape seemed less certain.
“You’re escaping? Don’t think about it!”
Abruptly—a silver Moon glimmered at Rascal’s back, brilliant and pure against the skies; in a flash it shot forward into the fangs-word-slice crimson.
A *Zing*! The silver halo enveloped all of red, entwining and restraining—freezing it immobile within.
As Rascal’s strength blossomed, his comprehension expanded—he refined further, unleashing deeper techniques hitherto undemonstrated—an awe-surfacing, overwhelming prowess unparalleled.
Outbursts surged again across the heavens from a creature desperate—these sacred arms, once reforged from his strongest bone, the sacred relic honed painstakingly, had spent the past decade to reach sword form—and now in danger!
Rising with fierce intent to retrieve his treasure—a fire storm blazed all anew, liquefying the land into boiling streams as it approached.
Delighted murmurs—”Ours all mine! Ours are now,” chirped joyfully.
Shi Zi Teng recalled Moonlight then—a move not aimed to destroy but to claim unscathed.
“Mine it is,” raged Fattail’s shrieking demand.
*HSSKHHHHHHHH!*
Yet—just at that critical juncture—a flash of golden fury emerged. The Dragonsworn Scissor, launched anew in an explosive flash, split open bloodied arcs across Fattail’s hide—as its body barely twisted enough to survive but spewed crimson torrents still.
Then came a second devastating blow. The snow-like clarity of Suanni’s artifact blazing with electric threads—released fully on already-battered opponent.
“AHHHHH…”
From shriek emerged the form of Fattail—one scorched creature flying out like an arrow through skies in utter disrepair.
Seizing the moment without delay, Rascal activated once more—the golden shear now flying forth, slicing upward toward that winged figure.
All unfolding in but one motion—fluidity beyond reckoning:
A darting golden flash sliced, severing flight; a screech arose anew! A shower of feathers cascadeling downwards—fifteen pounds hacked cruelly from avian flesh; plummeted as it cried, wounded limb dangling; ensnared now by the enchanted shear—metal glints rang against bound wings—before wrenching escape—a maimed wing left torn from battle—a patch of torn limb flesh and brilliant multicolored feathers trailed blood.
The sky shook to screams echoing from pain-stricken Five-Color Luanning circling too high to descend—a beast wounded thrice by mere words and combat—a terror gripping its flight amidst an aweful hush blanking all watching below.
“Red… Are the pots prepared at the mountain door ready yet?” the Little Rascal called out.
“Ready and roaring!” the big crimson bird had readied its cauldron already—steam hissed and danced as water steamed.
Shi Yi, his fingers tracing succulently, gripped the two pieces of Five-Color Luanning, one being the thigh-meat while from its wing came delicacies too—”Time to sizzle them meats for roast!”
From ground rose, dragged Fattail—the meal should be snake soup—boiling it all the way instead of roast! Dragging both trophies, he called cheerfully.
“My Little Buddy, join me!”
On his path, genius of diverse races avoided—true terrifying hunger in him!
Before the spring where all had occurred near the mountain gate—he washed his grubbily dirty face, revealing his true face to all who had gaped.
“He’s… the Terrorchild from Illusion Heaven!” cried human prodigies astonished as disbelief flooded across faces present. The identity had spread instantly—roars of reaction surged from the crowd!
Golden eyes from distant places gazed over—Pridebirds, Chimerics: lion-serpent-dragon forms turned as well; even ancient creatures like butterfly-like beings and spectral trees joined the still audience.
“What a mighty presence!” exhaled the Firefang—fire igniting within blazing eyes.
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