Chapter 1740: The Warmth of Stone Village

Home at last. Shi Hao’s eyes reddened as he stood silently for a long while before finally calming down slightly.

“Big bro, let’s go! We’re here. Never expected this place to be so beautiful. Hey, look over there—a herd of heavenly steeds, snow-white and gleaming without a single stray hair. Wow, one of them even has dragon scales, and not just ordinary ones!” The big black turtle shouted excitedly.

*Thwack!*

Shi Hao smacked its “black pot,” sending it rolling its eyes. Even the slightest ripple from a cultivator at the Dunyi realm was enough to make it faint.

“Behave. No shouting.”

Shi Hao stepped forward. The village was still a few miles away, but his heart burned with warmth. He had finally returned—no easy feat.

Not far off, there was a stretch of mountainous land. As he passed by, Shi Hao paused briefly. Years ago, the world had spread rumors of Little Stone’s demise, shocking all eight wastelands. He had been buried there for about a year.

“I wonder if the Five-Colored Sparrow is still around.” Shi Hao was eager to uncover its origins.

Because, back then, his revival had been tied to the seeds it had carried and planted in his burial mound. Those seeds had flourished with vitality, miraculously bringing him back to life.

The Five-Colored Sparrow was enigmatic. It had been in the village since Shi Hao could remember, disappearing from time to time.

If there was anyone who could still bully Shi Hao, it was that bird.

As a child, every attempt to chase it had ended in failure, often with him tripping and occasionally wiping away tears. Even as an adult, he had never managed to catch that peculiar little bird.

Closer now, he spotted villagers.

Right at the village entrance, people were coming and going—familiar faces. A hunting party had returned, laden with massive ferocious beasts.

Were those his childhood friends? Da Zhuang and the others? Towering in stature, they had now become leaders of the hunting party. They had all grown up!

In front of the village, many willow trees had been planted, their branches soft and verdant.

Were the villagers reminiscing about the Willow God? The spot where it had once taken root now held an altar, the most sacred place in the village, left untouched. Did they still hope for its return?

The village was bustling.

The hunting party had returned.

Children were running about—little ones, from three or four years old to around ten—full of energy. But Shi Hao didn’t recognize a single one.

These must have been born after he left. They were lively and strong, even the smallest able to leap astonishingly high, surpassing their parents’ generation.

Shi Hao reached the village entrance, the big black turtle trailing behind him.

The turtle walked upright, carrying a massive black pot on its back, with long limbs and a fierce demeanor.

“Ah! A demon’s entered the village! Quick, fight it off!”

“Where’s the demon? Our village has the great formation set by the Willow God. No monster dares approach. Stop shouting nonsense, kids!” an adult scolded.

“It’s true! Look, a giant turtle, blacker than donkey dung, baring its teeth and glaring—it’s coming!” a three- or four-year-old shrieked.

At the entrance, the big black turtle was furious, its dark face nearly turning green.

It *was* baring its teeth and glaring—these brats had no manners! Sure, it was a Xuan Turtle, but did they have to call it a “giant turtle” to its face?

With Shi Hao, it could tolerate it, but a bunch of snot-nosed kids yelling like this? Naturally, it glared.

And that last remark—*blacker than donkey dung*—nearly made it spit blood.

Inside the village, the crowd gathered around the hunting party finally turned toward the entrance.

In an instant, the village fell silent. The adults stood frozen, as if petrified.

Every villager stared, speechless, at the figure at the village’s edge.

A young man, tall and straight, with delicate features that made him seem no older than seventeen or eighteen. His gentle face and clear eyes watched as he stepped forward, one pace at a time.

Years had passed—at least a decade—yet here he was, that same face, that same person. The adults were stunned, unable to believe it.

Only the children were confused, hesitant, and a little nervous. Tugging at the adults’ sleeves, they whispered fearfully, “Mom, is he a big demon? Why are Uncle and the others scared? Why aren’t they talking?”

“Grandpa, is this a human-shaped demon? Even its servant is so scarily black. How did it break through the formation and enter our village? It’s terrifying!” Some of the kids looked frightened.

“Little Rascal!” Finally, someone shouted and rushed toward the entrance.

Other adults flicked the kids on the forehead and scolded, “What demon? This is your uncle—the one who fought his way to the Upper Realm alone!”

“You little brat, I’ll teach you to talk nonsense!” Another smacked a sniffling child on the backside.

Men, women, young and old, all surged forward, shouting and clamoring. The most frenzied were the twenty- and thirty-year-olds, who, after reaching Shi Hao, began punching and tossing him into the air.

“Is this real? You… you actually came back!”

“Let me bite you—yep, fleshy and warm, not fake!”

“You vanished for over ten years, and now you just pop up out of nowhere!”

“Little Rascal, let me see how you’ve changed!”

The group was ecstatic. His childhood friends crowded the front, surrounding him, half-convinced they were dreaming.

Some even called him by his childhood nickname—*Little Rascal*—with deep affection.

Shi Hao’s nose tingled, his eyes burning. This feeling was wonderful. He was home, surrounded by family. A decade of wandering, all the melancholy, helplessness, and regrets—gone. From head to toe, he felt warm, brimming with vitality.

The bloodshed at the border, the defeats, the heartache of watching familiar faces depart forever—all of it faded away.

Now, there was only warmth. The bitterness, the hardships—vanished. Here, he was happy.

“Wow! You’re our legendary little uncle?”

A tiny child tugged at Shi Hao’s pant leg, looking up with an excited face, eyes sparkling.

“Oh heavens, it’s alive! The legendary living uncle has appeared! Wow!” Another four- or five-year-old tried climbing him like a tree.

“Really? This is Uncle Little Stone? The one who beat everyone and then went to wreak havoc in the Upper Realm? I’m so happy! I met the legendary Uncle Little Stone!” Another child jumped up and down, cheering.

Shi Hao was speechless. What kind of education was this? Had he become a menace in the Lower Realm? Though, thinking back, he *had* been a headache for many enemy factions.

“Haha, this is amazing! Never thought we’d meet again. I figured you’d be chasing immortality in the Upper Realm and never return.” Da Zhuang, now nearly ten feet tall, clapped Shi Hao’s shoulder and hugged him tightly, tears glistening.

“Same. I heard it’s nearly impossible to come back after going to the Upper Realm. Never imagined we’d reunite in this lifetime!” Er Meng was equally emotional.

Pi Hou, Hu Zi, and the others were the same, eyes red. Childhood friends reunited after a decade—how could they forget Shi Hao? Without him, Stone Village wouldn’t be what it was now, with spirit herbs everywhere, growing stronger year by year, safe from outside threats.

“Child, let me look at you. You’ve grown taller than me, but you’re still so delicate—your face hasn’t changed at all.” Shi Lin Hu stepped forward.

“Haha, this is wonderful. Our Little Stone is back.” Shi Fei Jiao thumped Shi Hao’s chest.

These two had once led the hunting party but had since passed the role to Da Zhuang and Hu Zi.

Shi Hao was overjoyed, eyes slightly red as he greeted the elders.

A group of aunties arrived, having heard the news. They were even more enthusiastic, pinching his cheeks and pulling his arms until even the thick-skinned Shi Hao flushed.

“Child! Where’s the child?”

The village’s oldest members came too, supported by the younger ones, their steps unsteady as they hurried to the entrance.

“Grandpa! Elder Clan Leader!”

Shi Hao pushed through the crowd and rushed forward, steadying the foremost elder—Old Clan Leader Shi Yunfeng, the man who had raised him.

“Child, you’ve finally returned. I never thought I’d live to see you again!” Tears rolled down the old man’s face.

He had no children, never married, and had raised Shi Hao as his own. Now, his emotions overwhelmed him.