“Don’t move! The Golden-Winged Roc is a half-blood divine bird. Eating it like this would be a waste. I have an ancient recipe here—once we gather the precious herbs and stew them together, its divine effects will be fully unleashed,” Huo Ling’er spoke up, stopping the Crimson Bird and the others.
This was a mountainous area, similar to other parts of the ruins, shrouded in ribbons of black mist, hidden and quiet. A clear spring gurgled from the mountain, where the Crimson Bird and the Nine-Headed Lion were preparing to pluck the golden giant bird. The Roc was massive, its body gleaming with golden light. Even its severed wing alone was over ten meters long, radiating divine splendor and overflowing with vital essence—enough to feed them all.
“Are there really so many rules to this?” The group of ancient descendants were impatient, unwilling to wait. After all, this was a descendant of a Heavenly God, a rarity in the world.
Huo Ling’er wore a solemn expression. “Of course there are rules. With the right precious herbs, rare woods, and spiritual blood, the medicinal power of this Golden Roc will exceed your imagination!”
The Nine-Headed Lion nodded in agreement. Coming from an ancient royal lineage, it naturally understood and supported her view.
“Fine, if it maximizes the medicinal effects, I have no objections,” the Crimson Bird said. Though also a bird, it still wanted a bite of the Golden-Winged Roc.
In the end, the group all nodded, accepting the Fire Nation princess’s suggestion.
This was an ancient pocket world, never lacking in spiritual herbs, divine woods, or sacred insects. The necessary ingredients could be found—provided they left these barren ruins first.
“This violent ape is a rare descendant indeed, its ancient blood thick and pulsing with dark radiance. Its massive size is truly exceptional—enough to feed us all,” the Crimson Bird drooled.
*Thud!*
Little Rascal lifted his black pot and smacked it onto the bird’s head. “You’re so cruel, eating something humanoid. Don’t you dare roast it in front of me!”
The Crimson Bird hopped in fury. “You’re the cruel one! You won’t eat humanoids, only fierce beasts and spirit birds—how savage!”
Nearby, the Nine-Headed Lion shuddered. Even it had been eaten by Little Rascal once, though it was too embarrassed to tell its brothers.
“Hey, Brother Luan Bird, what’s with that look? I risked my life to save you, fighting a horde of ancient descendants—nearly died!” Little Rascal side-eyed the heavily injured giant bird.
The Five-Colored Luan Bird glared at him with the whites of its eyes. Though saved by this human boy, it still couldn’t fully forgive him for eating its wings and roasting its legs.
“Stop glaring. Later, I’ll let you eat more flesh and blood treasures to replenish yourself,” Little Rascal said.
By the clear spring, the cloaked figure beside Huo Ling’er was preparing a demonic bird—a creature with an elephant’s head but otherwise avian, its emerald feathers shimmering with radiant light.
“This is a Jade-Feathered Elephant Bird, an extremely rare descendant. Pity its ivory tusks were destroyed—they were the most spiritual parts,” one of the seal masters lamented.
There was no helping it. These powerful creatures would never leave their precious bone runes to enemies in death.
Meanwhile, the Nine-Headed Lion, the Fire Crow, and others processed the violent ape. Its massive body was more than enough for the group.
Little Rascal fiddled with his spoils, frowning in frustration. The White Tiger Battle Armor was shattered, and the Magnetic Peak had split into dozens of pieces—its power drastically diminished.
“Don’t be ungrateful. That Qiankun Pouch you obtained is incredibly rare—left behind by a deceased White Tiger expert. It’s practically a clan treasure,” Huo Ling’er rolled her eyes at the little miser.
Mention of the spoils cheered him up. He pulled out the beast-skin pouch, examining it eagerly. Made of White Tiger hide, it bore ancient runes, its mouth tied with a golden cord that shimmered brilliantly. Though only palm-sized, it could swallow all things—mysterious beyond measure.
Little Rascal refined it with his spirit, then began testing, storing and retrieving objects until he mastered its use.
*Boom!*
Boulders weighing hundreds of thousands of pounds were sucked into the pouch, radiant light swirling in a breathtaking display.
“What a treasure!” he marveled, then reversed the runes, dumping the rocks back out.
Another test—*Boom!*—a small hill was uprooted and swallowed whole, the pouch’s mouth erupting with dazzling light.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” the Crimson Bird shrieked as it shrank uncontrollably, wrapped in radiance, and vanished into the pouch.
“Hahaha!” Little Rascal laughed, shaking the pouch. Muffled protests came from inside.
“Let me out!”
He loosened the golden cord, and the Crimson Bird burst out in a rage. “I’ll fight you—!”
Little Rascal raised the pouch threateningly.
The bird fumed, then stormed off toward the ape carcass. “I’ll eat you instead!”
Flames crackled as the Nine-Headed Lion, the Fire Crow, and others feasted on roasted ape meat, the golden chunks exuding rich aroma. The meat was packed with potent essence, perfect for healing their injuries.
Soon, the Purple Marten, the Five-Colored Luan Bird, and the Three-Eyed clansman began glowing, bones mending with audible cracks. Though not fully healed, they could move freely again.
“So strong—I feel like I’m about to break through!” The Purple Marten, its forelimbs once broken, now radiated violet mist after devouring a thousand pounds of ape meat.
“My blood has purified further—amazing!” The Nine-Headed Lion rejoiced, golden threads appearing in its blood.
After near-death exhaustion and this replenishment, they all neared breakthroughs, glowing like miniature suns.
“Eat up!”
The massive ape’s remains were fully consumed, bones and all. The group lay on the ground, stuffed and glowing, too full to move.
Nearby, Little Rascal, Huo Ling’er, and the seal masters weren’t faring much better. Half a demonic bird’s descendant had been devoured, its crystalline meat melting on the tongue.
Finally, Huo Ling’er couldn’t take another bite—especially with that infuriating boy teasing her about her curves. Even the seal masters had to stop, their strong constitutions unable to handle more.
“Wasting food is shameful!” Little Rascal declared, then polished off the remaining half of the golden-roasted bird, refining its essence into his flesh.
The others stared, baffled. How could such a small body hold so much food? Even the ancient descendants were stunned—this kid was scarily voracious.
“No wonder he drools at the sight of us. We’d better steer clear—if he gets hungry, he might just swallow us whole,” they muttered, wiping cold sweat.
Little Rascal’s body shimmered, essence surging through his pores. His injuries vanished, his flesh purified, even his hair glowing.
“Tch, the Ninth Heavenly Passage is too hard to open. I still can’t feel it,” he grumbled, scratching his head.
A seal master trembled. “Nine Heavenly Passages are near-mythical, only recorded in ancient texts. Even eight is like finding phoenix feathers for humans. You should consider advancing to the next realm.”
“I can wait. I’ll break through when we eat the Roc!” Little Rascal pouted.
His blackened little face left everyone speechless. *You’re still not satisfied?* Since entering this world, his growth had outpaced years of others’ training!
The seal masters especially felt bitter. Years of their own efforts paled next to this little monster’s gains.
“Everyone full?” Little Rascal patted his round belly.
“Stuffed!” The descendants exhaled streams of essence and light with every word.
“Good. More for me, then.” He dragged over the White Tiger, cleaving off a hind leg with his broken sword, skinning and washing it swiftly.
“You—such waste!” The elders nearly had strokes.
“Food is meant to be eaten. Besides, I’m not taking it all—just one leg for soup,” he said dismissively.
“We’ll eat too!” The ancient descendants rushed over. This was White Tiger meat—even if they had to force it down!
Huo Ling’er fumed. Such extravagance!
Three hours later, the Tiger Bone Soup was ready, the broth crystalline and radiant. A White Tiger phantom lunged from the pot, fierce yet mouthwateringly fragrant.
“Eat it! Eat it!” Little Rascal devoured it in one gulp.
The soup was thick and luminous. A single sip made his pores sing, his body erupting in radiant rain.
“Delicious! No worse than lion’s head!” he mumbled blissfully.
The Nine-Headed Lion’s face turned green. Thankfully, no one heard clearly.
“So good!” Little Rascal guzzled the soup. Soon, even Huo Ling’er joined the scramble, dignity forgotten.
Within moments, the pot was empty. The group eyed the remaining Tiger carcass hungrily—only Little Rascal was satisfied, glowing like a tiny sun.
“You’re all savages! Eating so much and still wanting more—what gluttons!” he scolded, including Huo Ling’er.
The group nearly exploded. *Who’s the savage here?!*
“Good things shouldn’t be wasted. We’ll gather more herbs later for a proper brew—maybe then we’ll all break through,” Little Rascal said.
He stored the Golden-Winged Roc, the White Tiger, and other descendants in his Qiankun Pouch, tying it securely and slinging it over his shoulder.
“So handy. Later, I’ll catch more beasts that want to eat me.”
The group rolled their eyes. *Who’d dare eat you?*
“The pouch seems to preserve food. I’ll take these back to Stone Village—for Uncle Lin Hu, Da Zhuang, Er Meng, Pi Hou, and the others. Maybe they’ll break through too.”
Little Rascal rubbed his round belly, drifting into sleep with a sweet smile.
The others sighed. This delicate, pretty boy—so serene in sleep—was unimaginably savage when awake.
The Purple Marten and Fire Crow broke through after the soup, their essence burning as they ascended, causing quite a stir.
By dawn, the ancient Golden Crow’s corpse rose as the sun, its light filtering through the ruins’ mist.
“Onward! For herbs, for recipes, for eating the Golden-Winged Roc—we march to the herb gardens!” Little Rascal declared passionately.
The group scoffed but followed, all eager for rare treasures.
This ancient world held many wonders—lands where sages fell, bone-restricted zones, relic sites—scattered with geniuses.
“You’re seeking the Fountain of Youth?” They were shocked when they learned his goal.
Legend said this world held such a spring, but it was lethally dangerous—few had ever succeeded.
“The Fountain lies within the Hundred Herb Garden, a place where mystical fields suppress techniques and crush flesh. Few dare enter,” Huo Ling’er said.
The garden was this world’s herb field, brimming with rare plants—some even saint-grade!
“You wanted ‘Golden Bird Stew with Mushrooms,’ right? We have the bird—now we need mushrooms. Where else but the garden?” Little Rascal said.
The group hesitated. That place was a blood-soaked death trap.
“We’ll help, but only outside. We won’t enter,” the Nine-Headed Lion said honestly.
Seeing their dread, Little Rascal wondered, “Did the old guys from Suppression Heaven Pavilion trick me?”
“Only those with monstrously strong flesh can enter—usually pure-blooded ancient younglings seeking heaven-defying opportunities,” an elderly seal master explained.
Little Rascal’s eyes lit up. “There are pure-blooded ancient beasts there? I love those!”
The group was speechless. While others fled, he eagerly charged toward danger.
Huo Ling’er blinked. “This guy *is* a human-shaped pure-blood. Who eats whom is anyone’s guess.”
The Crimson Bird’s eyes gleamed. It lunged, hugging Little Rascal’s arm. “Take—”
“You’re coming?”
“No way! I’d be eaten! Take my pot instead. You’re savage enough to hunt a pure-blood—just bring me back some broth!”
*Clang!* Little Rascal bonked it with the pot.
“I’ll… endure!” The bird fumed.
Beyond the ruins, sunlight bathed vibrant flora and towering trees. Their formidable group scared off most creatures, though a few powerful beings watched hungrily.
Little Rascal roared back, and the lurking predators retreated.
“What was that? Felt terrifying,” they murmured.
“Oddly glad we have this little monster with us. Alone, we’d be lunch,” the Crimson Bird admitted.
“Pure-bloods?” Huo Ling’er frowned.
Nearing the garden, they sensed several such beings.
Little Rascal grew cautious. Though eager to catch one, he knew better than to underestimate them.
Finally, the Hundred Herb Garden came into view—a radiant expanse where even ordinary plants glowed with spiritual energy.
“Mine! All mine!” Little Rascal’s eyes sparkled greedily, drooling.
The group sighed. There he went again—the little miser.
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