The mountain peak descended, pressing down upon the Spirit Lake, sending chills down everyone’s spines. Who was this, so domineering as to suppress them all at once? Distracted, they had no choice but to resist. If the stone peak were to seal this place, they might survive, but the silver Immortal Peach Tree would surely be destroyed.
Treasure Spells shot into the sky, flashing with Glyphs, shattering the stone peak. Rubble exploded, dust swirled, and the sky turned ashen, raining debris into the Spirit Lake. Amid the chaos, Little Rascal swiftly stashed the young deity into his Qiankun Bag before darting forward like a shadow. Through the smoke and rubble, he unfurled the bag, aiming to claim the four silver peach trees.
Spells clashed, divine radiance danced, and the battlefield descended into utter chaos. The small trees were uprooted by Shi Yi and the purple-clad maiden, their Glyphs tearing them from the earth. Yet Little Rascal’s Qiankun Bag proved more formidable, devouring everything in its path.
Amid the pandemonium, a roar echoed—an old wolf emerged. Though barely a meter long, gaunt and decrepit, its power was terrifying. With a single swipe of its claws, it tore through the defenses of a pure-blooded creature, blood splattering. This was one of the “ancient undead” the Monkey King had warned about, here to seize the sacred herb.
The wolf’s interference disrupted the void, and Little Rascal grimaced—his attempt to claim the silver peach trees had failed. But the wolf didn’t succeed either. Another contender appeared: a magpie, seemingly ordinary but unnaturally powerful. It expanded rapidly, blotting out the sky like a Leviathan Roc, its massive claws disrupting the battlefield and forcing the wolf back.
The Monkey King, locked in combat elsewhere, had been watching. With a thunderous roar, radiant Glyphs erupted from the lakeshore, sealing the area. “Trying to steal my treasures? I’ve been waiting for this!” His voice boomed as the sacred land’s symbols flared, forming a Heaven-Sealing Array that immobilized the earth—no one could touch the silver peach trees now.
The array materialized, revealing the Monkey King’s trap. He had lured the ancient beings here to eliminate them alongside the pure-blooded creatures.
“Such a formidable array!” the crowd gasped.
“Monkey, you overestimate yourself!” growled one of the ancient beings. “You think you rule the Hundred Broken Mountains? Arrogance will be your downfall!”
“Time to settle old scores,” another rumbled. “Today, you die!”
“Former losers,” the Monkey King sneered. “Come, and I’ll slaughter you all!”
He dodged the Golden-Winged Roc and the Peacock’s assaults, repelled the Black Hound and the Silver Thornbeast, then charged back into the sacred land, targeting the ancient kings.
“Kill him!”
“The monkey must die today!” bellowed the Rampaging Bull, rallying the others.
The Ironblood Ancient Tree acted, its roots splitting the earth as it assaulted the sacred land. The other kings joined, knowing this battle was to the death.
Inside the sacred land, chaos reigned. The Monkey King returned, spear in hand, slaughtering foes. The pure-blooded creatures, desperate, activated their ancestral treasures, knowing they’d perish if trapped.
Little Rascal crouched low, gripping his broken sword and the small pagoda, ready to flee. The enemies here were too powerful—he wouldn’t fight to the death.
“Monkey, your array is full of flaws!” A withered old Flood Dragon emerged, its scales dull with age.
“You?! Weren’t you dead?!” the Monkey King exclaimed, recognizing a master of arrays.
“I couldn’t die before you,” the dragon rasped.
With a flick of its claws, the array shattered, its Glyphs collapsing. The ancient beings, united in hatred, tore it apart.
The battle intensified. The Black Hound, Rampaging Bull, and Peacock joined the assault, their combined might shaking the sacred land. The pure-blooded creatures, caught in the crossfire, had no choice but to fight.
One pure-blood fell, torn apart, its flesh becoming a treasure herb. The carnage escalated.
Little Rascal, though pretending to battle monkeys, was still wounded by stray attacks. The sheer power of the kings’ strikes was terrifying.
A bold pure-blood—a Bi Fang—summoned a golden passage, nearly stealing a silver peach tree. Enraged, the Monkey King smashed the passage, crippling the Bi Fang, which fled with a mournful cry.
Others seized their chance. The Azure-Scaled Eagle cast a divine net, snatching a tree. The Zhu Jian ignited an ancient talisman, enveloping another in light as it fled.
Little Rascal gaped. “They actually succeeded?!”
“Return!” the Monkey King roared. His body expanded, inhaling clouds as he summoned the trees back. Countless golden needles shot from his fur, piercing the thieves.
The Azure-Scaled Eagle, bloodied, abandoned its prize. The Zhu Jian lost its tail, barely escaping.
“Run now. I’ll hunt you later,” the Monkey King muttered, reclaiming two trees mid-battle.
Suddenly, space warped. One tree froze mid-air, then plummeted. The purple-clad maiden, wielding a golden horn, nullified the Monkey King’s Glyphs and seized the tree.
“A Glyph-Shattering Sacred Horn?!” The crowd’s eyes burned with greed.
“My treasures belong to no one!” the Monkey King snarled, his golden gaze lancing toward the tree.
“Monkey, you’re distracted!” The old wolf laughed, attacking fiercely, forcing the Monkey King to split his focus. The tree dropped, free for the taking.
Creatures lunged. The purple-clad maiden clashed with a Netherworld Butterfly. A divine bird swooped down—blood painted the battlefield.
“Fight all you want. None escape!” the Monkey King vowed.
At the critical moment, Shi Yi reappeared. His eyes blazed, threads of light weaving through space, freezing the tree mid-air. He yanked it toward him.
The maiden countered, her jade hands weaving divine patterns, reclaiming the tree. Others joined the fray.
“Forgive me,” Shi Yi said coldly. His chest glowed as a small, bone-carved jar emerged, radiating auspicious light. It began drawing the tree inside.
“Open!” the maiden shouted, her golden horn slicing through the spatial lock. But it was too late—the tree shrank, nearly inside the jar.
A blur shot past—Little Rascal, a Shrinking Earth Talisman on his feet. He hurled his pagoda, knocking the jar askew, then lunged for the tree.
The crowd reacted instantly, barraging him with attacks. Deflecting with his hands, he bit down on the silver trunk. The maiden and Shi Yi’s combined force slowed him, but he chomped off a branch and bolted.
The crowd gasped. The tree, now missing a section, fell. They ignored the fleeing figure, scrambling for the remains.
“Damn it, one less peach!” Little Rascal had snatched a fruit-laden twig, infuriating them.
Shi Yi’s gaze turned icy as he watched the vanishing silhouette. So close to victory, only to be thwarted.
Little Rascal vanished, the pagoda back in his hair. Behind him, the battlefield roared with Glyphs—only Shi Yi and the maiden had succeeded, the former claiming a branch, the latter the trunk.
Then, a voice rumbled from the Qiankun Bag: “Release me!”
Startled, Little Rascal opened it—the cocoon was shaking.
“Wait, why do you have my sacred herb?” it demanded.
“Pah! Trying to scam me? Remember, even you belong to me!” Little Rascal retorted.
The cocoon glowed. The sacred land trembled, then split—an intricate array awakening.
“Harvest!” The being inside wheezed as if on death’s door.
Three silver trees flew toward them, but the Monkey King intercepted two. One broke through, landing nearby.
Without hesitation, Little Rascal grabbed it and vanished with his talisman.
The cocoon gasped. “You—!”
But Little Rascal was already gone, the sacred herb in hand.
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