The towering mountain gates stood between two massive gray-brown stone peaks, ancient and unyielding, their origins lost to time. Since the days when ancient sages shed their blood, every few centuries, young heroes would enter the Hundred Broken Mountains, many passing through here in search of coveted treasures.
By the time Little Rascal arrived, a group of prodigies from powerful races had already charged ahead, followed by a flood of others. The ruins stretched endlessly, shrouded in bands of black mist, casting the entire landscape into gloom, obscuring distant sights. The ground was littered with rubble, broken walls, and ruins—a relic of an ancient era.
“Whoosh!” A streak of radiant light shot up from the ruins like a silver thread, darting swiftly into the sky, startling everyone as it rose right beside them.
“After it!” A chorus of shouts erupted as a swarm of prodigies dashed forward in pursuit. This was a treasure, and one that had gained sentience—capturing it would be priceless.
“Are all the treasures buried in the ruins?” Little Rascal wondered, having clearly seen the silver thread—a tree branch, unrotted despite the ages, brimming with spiritual energy.
“These treasures have lives of their own. They don’t stay in one place—they shift constantly, appearing anywhere,” Fire Crow explained.
The group moved together, all but Little Rascal being descendants of ancient beasts, their strength and heritage formidable enough to deter ordinary challengers. The ruins stretched endlessly toward the horizon, beyond the rubble, where broken mountains loomed. Occasionally, beams of treasure light pierced the murky mist.
As they ventured deeper, their footsteps crunched on ancient debris, as if echoing the battles of old. The atmosphere was unsettling.
“Woo…” A surge of purple mist rose, wailing like a lament. Another treasure—a violet beast horn—shattered a broken wall and soared into the distance.
“After it!” Little Rascal yelled. The ancient descendants were already covetous—this horn was no ordinary artifact. Its sound was like a demonic chant, threatening to split souls apart—undoubtedly a rare treasure.
The Crimson Bird screeched, using one wing like a hand to hurl its black cauldron at the horn.
“Boom!” The cauldron struck true, but the horn remained unharmed, glowing even brighter as mist swirled around it. The cauldron was flung aside, crashing into the ruins of a grand palace, sending dust billowing.
“Everyone, attack together!” The Nine-Headed Lion, the Purple Marten, Fire Crow, the Three-Eyed Clan warrior, and Little Rascal all unleashed their techniques, filling the sky with runes to ensnare the horn.
“Whoosh!” The horn flared brilliantly, shooting straight into the darkened heavens, vanishing in an instant.
“So powerful!”
“This might be a relic of the ancient sages, brimming with sentience. Even without attacking, its might is terrifying.”
Disappointed, they could only watch helplessly.
“Hum!” The air trembled as a sword beam, sharp as a galaxy, slashed toward Little Rascal’s waist—a deadly strike meant to bisect him. He dodged just in time, the blade grazing past him and cleanly slicing through a boulder weighing tens of thousands of pounds.
“Daring to ambush us?” The Crimson Bird’s eyes burned with fury, eager to test its newfound strength.
Little Rascal’s expression darkened as he spotted a green-robed figure retreating swiftly.
“Kill!” The Crimson Bird took flight, outpacing the others.
“Attack together! Did they think we wouldn’t notice?” The Nine-Headed Lion roared, golden light flooding the ruins.
A horde of ancient descendants surged forward, chasing the green-robed man.
“Clang!” Sparks flew as the Crimson Bird’s cauldron clashed with a flying sword, ringing loudly.
“Help! We’ve got a tough one here!” the bird screeched, calling for backup.
Though unable to fly, Little Rascal arrived swiftly, summoning the Suan Ni Treasure Mirror to unleash thunderous strikes.
The Nine-Headed Lion’s roar shook the earth, golden runes surging like a tidal wave. Fire Crow cawed ominously, flames engulfing the battlefield. The Three-Eyed Clan warrior’s third eye gleamed, blue divine light slicing through the air.
The green-robed man was strong, but under the combined assault, he faltered, coughing blood as his bone sword cracked.
“A young man?” the Purple Marten exclaimed in surprise.
The green-robed man, disheveled, revealed his face—a man in his mid-twenties, not a youthful prodigy but a “Sealer.”
Little Rascal’s heart tightened. “Kill!”
The group gave chase. Though the Sealer was formidable, he was no match for the ancient descendants, barely escaping with his life.
“Damn it, my bone sword is ruined!” the Sealer cursed from afar, bloodied and furious.
“Don’t think just because you’re a Sealer you can kill that child. He’s not easy prey,” an elder warned.
Nearby, others plotted. “Let’s kill those ancient descendants. They must have treasures on them—easier than searching the ruins.”
“But they have powerful backgrounds. Killing them all could bring disaster to our clan!” another elder cautioned.
They belonged to a mighty clan—one of the four that Little Rascal had extorted in the Void God Realm.
Elsewhere, another group conspired against him, already moving in for the kill.
Little Rascal, ever alert, sensed the danger. “They’re coming for us!”
“Again? Let’s tear them apart!” the Crimson Bird shrieked.
The Nine-Headed Lion, the Purple Marten, and the Three-Eyed Clan warrior surged forward, their combined might overwhelming the Sealers, who fled in panic.
“Damn it, how did they notice us so soon?”
The ruins erupted in chaos as the ancient descendants rampaged, slaughtering the four pursuers.
“Damn that vicious child! How did he ally with these beasts?” the clan’s remnants fumed from afar.
Over the next two days, Little Rascal and his group became a dominant force, scouring the ruins with few daring to challenge them. They hunted human Sealers relentlessly, chasing down any who approached stealthily.
The four clans’ vanguard was furious. “Who’s hunting whom here?” They had come to eliminate the Bear Child, yet now they were the ones being hunted!
The ruins stretched endlessly. After two days, they still hadn’t reached the end, though they’d spotted over a dozen treasures—all of which fled beyond capture.
“Rumble!” A thunderous roar erupted on the horizon, light blazing like nine suns, dispelling the black mist.
“Disaster! Flee! The treasures have awakened—a divine tide is coming!”
A flood of creatures fled in terror—mighty apes, fearsome Suan Ni, even human nobles.
“Gods! The treasures are slaughtering everyone! Run!” Fire Crow shrieked, recalling a similar catastrophe days prior that had claimed countless lives.
The Nine-Headed Lion roared, golden light flaring as it fled on a string of prayer beads. The Crimson Bird, the Purple Marten, and the Three-Eyed Clan warrior turned tail—this was beyond mortal resistance.
The horizon was swallowed by divine light, like a dozen Golden Crows taking flight, illuminating the ruins. The treasures united, unleashing a deadly tide—unstoppable, thunderous.
Creatures scattered in panic.
Little Rascal’s eyes widened as he glimpsed countless treasures—Golden Crow wings, Flood Dragon horns, Mystic Tortoise armor—all priceless.
“Mine, mine, all mine!” He clenched his fists, eyes gleaming, drooling.
But as the divine tide neared, even he had to flee.
“Thud!” A giant’s head rolled, blood fountaining as a white tusk treasure sliced through him.
“Ah—!” A group of prodigies screamed as Golden Crow wings fanned flames, reducing them to ash.
The ruins became a slaughterhouse, treasures raining death.
“Boom!” A drum made of Flood Dragon skin boomed, shaking souls, rupturing hearts, shattering bones.
The carnage lasted two hours before the divine tide receded.
The ruins fell silent, save for occasional treasure lights streaking like meteors.
But the survivors felt only dread. The treasures, united, were unstoppable.
This disaster had claimed over two thousand lives, blood staining the rubble.
“The weapons of the ancient sages are terrifying!” Many considered retreating—treasures weren’t worth dying for.
Little Rascal, grimy but bright-eyed, had narrowly escaped. “That was close. Almost got skewered by a divine branch.” His rapid healing had sealed the wound.
Separated from his allies, he pressed on cautiously.
Half a month later, ragged but determined, he reached the ruins’ heart.
Here, mountains bristled with treasure light, the source of the divine tides.
“Many powerful treasures hide here, gathering before surging outward,” he murmured.
Though perilous, it was safer than the outer ruins—no divine tides formed here.
“Others have figured this out too.” He spotted experts prowling the peaks.
The barren land bore scars of catastrophe, devoid of life.
“Sealers!” Little Rascal tensed, spotting human elders—more dangerous than beasts.
Two days later, he was ambushed, his shoulder nearly severed. He retaliated, bisecting an attacker with his golden bone scissors.
“Kill!” Five more Sealers lunged.
Little Rascal stomped, collapsing a mountain peak, creating chaos to escape.
Days later, healed and wary, he pressed on, knowing human factions hunted him.
“Hmm?” A valley ahead glowed with treasure light.
Creeping closer, he spotted a pristine bone pagoda, pulsing with sacred energy.
His heart pounded. This was no ordinary treasure.
Summoning his Suan Ni Mirror and golden scissors, he prepared to capture it.
Light erupted, flooding the valley.
Nearby, atop a peak, a white tiger lounged in a carriage, fed by human maidens.
“An ultimate treasure? Kill whoever’s there!” the tiger commanded telepathically.
The carriage, a treasure itself, soared toward the valley.
“Boom!” They attacked, collapsing the valley walls.
Little Rascal raged. “Interfering now?!”
“It’s you! No elders to protect you here. Kill him!” the tiger roared.
The carriage unleashed a barrage of runes.
“This treasure is mine, human!” the tiger gloated.
The battle for the bone pagoda had begun.
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