The beast-hide pouch meant for Little Rascal had long been discarded, proving utterly useless. Instead, it had merely dragged along a vine tied with eleven shimmering spirit herbs, returning with a satisfied burp. “Divine one, you went just once and came back with eleven spirit herbs?” The crimson bird’s eyes nearly popped out of its head in shock—this was simply too incredible. After all, a single spirit mountain could only nurture one spirit herb. Just how many spirit mountains had it scaled? Perhaps only a place tainted with phoenix blood could harbor so many spirit mountains.
The little guy’s lips twitched, his heart bleeding. Little Rascal must have wreaked havoc—what it brought back was clearly just a fraction, while the bulk had already vanished into its belly. “What a shameful waste,” he muttered.
Little Rascal, bathed in golden radiance, was utterly content. Each burp released wisps of light from its mouth—who knew how many spirit plants it had ravaged? By now, everyone understood: the entire Phoenix Descent Ridge had likely been plundered bare.
“What exactly is inside Phoenix Descent Ridge?” Qing Feng asked curiously.
At this, Little Rascal grew excited, waving its tiny paws animatedly, its big eyes wide as if urging them to join in the hunt and corner that elusive creature.
“There’s a rare spirit treasure—but what exactly is it?” The little guy grasped its meaning but couldn’t decipher the name it had given the creature.
“How do we catch it?” Qing Feng pressed.
Little Rascal gestured wildly, explaining that the creature could traverse sky and earth, burrowing through soil. It had nearly caught it, but the thing had slipped away.
“I have a feeling we’ve stumbled upon something extraordinary—but how do we get our hands on it?” Even Er Meng was tempted.
The spirit creature seemed harmless in combat but could move effortlessly through earth and stone, vanishing without a trace. Otherwise, why would the Rain Clan’s many experts repeatedly fail to capture it?
“Leave it to me—I’ll snatch it in no time.” Nestled in the little guy’s hair was a small, translucent stone about an inch long, gleaming with a faint golden hue—the Divine Striking Stone.
The little guy was overjoyed, confident in its abilities. Such divine stones were exceedingly rare, capable of striking anything with unerring accuracy—even ancient sages coveted them for forging supreme treasures.
“Good! It’s all yours. While chaos reigns, sneak in with Little Rascal, strike it down, and haul it back!”
Phoenix Descent Ridge was in turmoil. Countless experts were in pursuit, even digging up mountains to unearth the earth-traversing creature.
The Divine Striking Stone, born of rock, naturally understood earth-walking techniques. It and Little Rascal stealthily infiltrated, aiming to seize the prize.
Soon, shouts erupted across the spirit land.
“What’s that thing? It just appeared out of nowhere—it struck the spirit creature!”
“Quick, stop them! A golden rat just dragged away the rare spirit!”
“Not a rat—a little round monkey! Wait, why is that stone moving too? Ow! Damn it, it can fly—it just broke my bones!”
Chaos reigned as the crowd panicked. Their supreme treasure had been stolen—something the Rain King had explicitly demanded. How could they lose it?
Little Rascal and the Divine Striking Stone tumbled away, dragging a dazed creature, fleeing in disarray. Whenever they encountered barriers, they cleaved through with the broken sword, escaping at breakneck speed.
One was a born troublemaker, the other a master of earth-walking. The vast mountain range couldn’t contain them—they raced toward freedom.
“These spirit soils are fantastic!” the Divine Striking Stone howled, devouring mouthfuls. Red dust swirled like a mudslide, threatening to bury it.
Little Rascal, displeased with the grime dulling its golden fur, slashed through the next barrier and bolted, abandoning the stone.
“Little Rascal’s back—what incredible treasure did it bring?” Qing Feng’s eyes widened.
In the distance, golden light flashed as Little Rascal rolled out of the grass, coughing out dust, clearly annoyed. It dragged a dazed creature with a chubby paw.
The crimson bird and Er Meng rushed over, squabbling to claim the rare spirit.
“Is this the legendary creature the Rain Clan spoke of? Even the royal palace only has one—seen once in centuries?” The little guy was stunned.
Qing Feng gaped at the plump creature on the ground, baffled. He glanced at Little Rascal—was this just a filler?
“Hey, is this your relative?” Er Meng nudged the crimson bird.
The bird smacked Er Meng’s bald head. “It looks just like you—maybe your brother?”
Little Rascal huffed, insisting this was a priceless treasure brimming with potent spiritual energy. It bared its tiny white teeth, ready to bite.
The little guy trusted its instincts—it had a nose for rare treasures—but this creature seemed utterly unremarkable. He lifted it, turning it over.
Wasn’t this just a common pheasant? Albeit a plump one, half a meter tall with dull yellow feathers—blend it into dirt, and no one would notice.
Was this the so-called rare treasure? He scratched his head.
“By the heavens! The spirit herbs—they’re all gone! Ravaged!” A wail rose from Phoenix Descent Ridge, sparking fresh chaos.
“The herb fields were looted! Damn it, every plant is stolen—after them!”
“It must be that strange creature! Don’t let it escape—it ruined our fields and stole our treasure!”
The Rain Clan was livid. This was a catastrophe—their efforts wasted, their blood boiling with rage.
A gale howled, lifting all the crimson soil into a swirling vortex.
“What’s happening? They stole our herbs, and now they’re destroying the land?!” The Rain Clan panicked. This soil, once stained with phoenix blood, was irreplaceable for cultivating herbs.
“Run! The Rain Clan will go mad!” The little guy didn’t wait for the Divine Striking Stone. He grabbed the pheasant and bolted.
The group fled, mounting the crimson bird, which vanished into the mountains.
The Rain Clan was frenzied—herbs stolen, treasure lost, even their sacred land defiled. They pursued blindly but found no trace. The crimson bird, its feathers now tinged with gold from mastering divine techniques, was too fast.
Two hours later, they landed safely in distant hills.
“The pheasant’s awake,” Qing Feng whispered.
The little guy held it tightly—according to Little Rascal, it could vanish into the earth at a touch.
“Don’t worry, it won’t escape me. I’ll smash it out,” the Divine Striking Stone boasted.
The pheasant, nervous, darted its eyes fearfully.
“It’s just a chicken—how is it a treasure?” The little guy was baffled.
The pheasant nodded eagerly, as if begging to be released.
The little guy laughed. Ordinary chickens didn’t understand human speech—this one was clearly special. He teased, “If it’s so ordinary, let’s stew it tonight.”
The pheasant flapped wildly, squawking in terror.
“I remember now—this must be… an Eight Treasures Pheasant!” Er Meng gasped, drooling.
“Eight Treasures Pheasant? Sounds familiar.”
“One of the Eight Divine Delicacies from antiquity—even gods crave it!” Er Meng’s eyes gleamed hungrily.
The crimson bird smacked him. “I eat first—you wait.”
The little guy recalled its legendary value. The Eight Treasures Pheasant—a divine delicacy, its flesh unparalleled, its blood a potent tonic, surpassed only by saint-grade herbs.
Moreover, it laid eggs every fortnight, each as potent as a spirit herb—priceless for mortal sects.
“A hen that lays spirit herbs?” the crimson bird squawked.
Realizing its worth, the little guy’s eyes widened. This was a treasure no fortune could buy.
Seeing Little Rascal and Er Meng eyeing it greedily, he smacked them away. “No one eats it—or I’ll eat you!”
“It’s a divine delicacy! Just a taste of its blood—” Er Meng wheedled.
“No! I’m taking it to Stone Village—it’ll lay eggs for everyone!”
The little guy resisted temptation, though his mouth watered. The pheasant was too rare—even in antiquity, they were scarce.
Currently, only the Stone Kingdom’s palace kept one.
“Is it female?” the little guy asked.
“Yes,” the crimson bird confirmed.
“Perfect! In Stone Village, it’ll lay eggs every fortnight!”
Qing Feng rejoiced—the village children and elders would enjoy regular spirit herbs.
The pheasant tried to flee but was caught, its mystical aura—a faint yellow mist connecting it to the earth—revealing its true nature.
“It really is the Eight Treasures Pheasant! Worth more than a hundred spirit herbs!”
As they celebrated, the Rain Clan despaired. Losing such a treasure might cost them their lives.
“Let’s return to Stone Village! Feed it special insects or snakes—maybe it’ll lay eggs daily!”
Eager to avoid mishaps, they hurried home.
Days later, news reached the Stone Kingdom’s capital. In the Rain Clan’s ancient hall, a cold voice uttered, “Useless!”
Two words that sent shivers through the clan.
Phoenix Descent Ridge was ruined, herbs gone, soil lifeless—and they’d lost an Eight Treasures Pheasant, a treasure even the royal family barely possessed!
“The Rain King needed its ancient blood! You fools let it escape!”
The news shook the capital—a second Eight Treasures Pheasant had appeared!
But the little guy’s group was already far away, soaring westward into the endless wilderness.
After perilous journeys and narrow escapes, they neared Stone Village.
“There it is—home at last!” The little guy’s heart swelled at the familiar mountains where he’d once trained under crushing weights.
“We’re back!” Qing Feng shouted, tears of joy streaming down his face.
The Azure-Scaled Eagle soared through the skies, its majestic wings casting shadows over the ancient peaks of Shi Yun Feng. Below, the Lion-Dragon prowled the misty valleys, its golden mane shimmering with an otherworldly glow. The air thrummed with the power of ancient Glyphs, remnants of a forgotten era when the Flood Dragon ruled these lands.
Shi Lin Hu, the legendary warrior of the Rain Clan, stood atop the cliffs, his gaze fixed upon the horizon where the Leviathan Roc Essence danced among the storm clouds. Beside him, the Lunar Grace Goddess whispered incantations, her silver robes fluttering like moonlit silk.
“Trouble brews in Zi Shan,” murmured Shi Zhong Hou, his hand resting on the hilt of his enchanted blade. “The Gu Clan stirs in the Netherworld, and even the Willow God trembles at their dark designs.”
Little Rascal, ever the impish trickster, giggled as he juggled three glowing Treasure Spells. “Let them come! Between Bei Feng’s tempest blades and Er Meng’s brute strength, we’ll send those shadow-walkers back to the abyss!”
High above, the Jiao Peng’s thunderous cry shook the mountains, as if the heavens themselves were joining the chorus of defiance. The battle for the sacred lands had begun.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage