The willow tree’s branches were scorched black, with over a dozen emerald-green sprouts dancing amidst radiant halos, forming a stark contrast against the withered trunk—a vibrant scene brimming with vitality, serenity, and divinity.
Little Rascal opened his Qiankun Bag and pulled out six enormous beast-hide sacks. When unfurled, they erupted with dazzling brilliance, transforming the area into a golden ocean that rumbled like thunder. It was as if the divine pool from the depths of the Hundred Herb Garden had reappeared—golden waves surged without actual water, yet the roar of tides and the glow of divine liquid manifested all the same.
The villagers gasped in awe. A single sack had already been astonishing, but now an entire pile had materialized, the golden waves surging high into the sky.
“Willow God, I brought these from the Hundred Ruins Mountain. I thought they might be useful to you,” Little Rascal said.
No explanation was needed—this was undoubtedly divine soil for vegetation. A mere handful of golden sand could nourish a single spiritual herb, so an entire pile was beyond imagination.
“Awooo—!” A small stone beast hidden in Little Rascal’s hair suddenly howled and leaped out, lunging toward the golden sandpile. “Mine!”
*Thud!*
Little Rascal snatched it mid-air. “You already ate half in the Hundred Herb Garden! This is for Willow God—no stealing!”
The Divine Striking Stone writhed on the ground, wailing, “I want more! You emptied the whole divine pool!”
The villagers gaped—a talking stone?
“The Hundred Ruins Mountain’s Ageless Divine Spring does indeed contain immortal divinity, but this sand holds little use for me,” Willow God remarked.
“What?! You don’t want it? Then it’s all mine!” The Divine Striking Stone pounced but froze mid-air, too terrified to move further. Facing the ancient tree, it trembled with instinctive reverence.
“Willow God, are you sure you don’t need it?” Little Rascal scratched his head before tossing the stone back into his Qiankun Bag.
“A small amount will suffice. I merely wish to examine the Ageless Spring’s divinity.” A single willow branch extended into the golden sand, absorbing wisps of golden radiance. Soon, a small pile lost its luster, and the branch withdrew.
Little Rascal marveled—Willow God had grown stronger since its revival, no longer needing divine soil for nourishment.
“Willow God, I also have five drops of the true Ageless Spring. Do you need them?” He felt compelled to offer a worthy gift, given Willow God’s guidance in helping him break through his limits and even transporting him to the Void God Realm.
He produced a small jade vial containing five golden liquid dragons, thrashing with vivid spirituality. The clan gasped—just how many treasures had this child obtained?
“One drop will suffice. It allows for a more thorough analysis of its ageless divinity.” Willow God’s voice remained calm.
A golden droplet rose, transforming into mist before merging into a tender branch, dyeing a single leaf gold.
“So miraculous!” the villagers exclaimed.
“Excellent. This Ageless Spring holds remarkable power on the path of immortality,” Willow God mused.
Little Rascal understood—Willow God had grown far stronger than before. In its weakened state, any spiritual essence would have been invaluable, but now it could harness the heavens’ blessings unaided.
“Willow God, I have another treasure.” This time, Little Rascal carefully retrieved a jade vessel containing Taiyi True Water, wary of its escape. The luminous liquid surged violently, restrained only by the Qiankun Bag’s radiant threads.
“Taiyi True Water is invaluable for refining sacred medicines or forging supreme treasures. It serves as a potent catalyst,” Willow God remarked.
Even the old clan leader, Shi Yunfeng, was stunned. “This… is Taiyi True Water?”
“Clan Leader, I brought back several pounds—enough for everyone!” Little Rascal declared.
“Pounds?!” Shi Yunfeng was dumbfounded. Even a drop could elevate the quality of medicinal concoctions.
The villagers were equally shocked upon learning its rarity.
“Willow God, you can even drink this. I had several pounds myself,” Little Rascal offered.
“You drank it?!” Even Willow God seemed amused.
“Yeah. Tasted awful and was hard to digest, but the divine energy was immense.”
“Monster!” Er Meng muttered. Who could digest Taiyi True Water? Was this kid even human?
“Good. You’ve progressed well. Prepare yourself for the upcoming baptism,” Willow God instructed.
“Absolutely!” Little Rascal beamed, recalling Willow God’s warning not to delay beyond twelve years. Both his five-year and ten-year baptisms had profound impacts.
Willow God declined the Taiyi True Water, instructing him to keep it, then fell silent to contemplate the Ageless Spring’s mysteries.
“Did you ransack a god’s lair? How’d you get so many treasures?” The village boys tackled Little Rascal, demanding tales of his two-year journey.
“Clan Leader, here’s the Ageless Spring.” Little Rascal offered two golden droplets to Shi Yunfeng and the elders, hoping to extend their lifespans.
“We age naturally. Peaceful passing is no regret. Don’t waste such treasures,” the elders refused.
But Little Rascal insisted. “Then save them for the children.”
The village shimmered with auspicious energy as newly planted spiritual herbs absorbed celestial essence, saturating the air with vitality.
Little Rascal recounted his adventures, leaving the villagers spellbound. A child, yet he’d endured so much.
“Such a pity about the Sky Mending Pavilion. Even the mightiest sects fall,” the clan leader sighed.
Qingfeng’s eyes reddened—memories of fallen comrades still haunted him.
“Our Stone Village was once the pinnacle of the Stone Nation. Now, even our cultivation heritage fades,” an elder lamented.
“Clan Leader, on our way back, we saw shattered mountains. Were we attacked?” Little Rascal asked.
Shi Linhu nodded. “A year ago, those bandits returned with powerful artifacts. Willow God slew them all.”
Little Rascal shuddered—thankfully, Willow God had protected them.
“They seek the Supreme Divine Treasure. After all these years, they’ve grown desperate,” the clan leader said.
“Enough of that. With Willow God here, they’re no threat. None escaped last time,” Shi Feijiao interjected.
As the crimson sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the village in sacred light, hoofbeats thundered in the distance. A herd of silver unicorns galloped into view, their riders whooping with joy.
“Little Rascal!” The hunting party—mostly youths—swarmed him in another round of embraces.
Among the unicorns, one stood out—towering like a celestial dragon, its silver flames dancing with joy.
“Little White! You’ve become a true fierce beast, your runes fully formed!” Little Rascal cheered.
“Unicorns carry the bloodline of ancient Heavenly Steeds. If it evolves further, it could tread upon the sun and moon—the pinnacle of mounts,” Er Meng mused.
As night fell, bonfires blazed by the lakeside. The feast began.
“Auntie, forget that featherless bird. This is real precious meat!” Little Rascal unveiled a mountain of ancient descendant carcasses, their flesh radiating divine light.
“Heavens! These are all ancient descendants! You actually hunted these?!” Even the grown men were floored.
The bounty—over forty beasts—was unimaginable. Some were slain in the Hundred Ruins Mountain, others during the Sky Mending Pavilion’s final battle.
The feast centered on the Golden-Winged Roc, stewed with monkey-head mushrooms—a divine delicacy. Golden steam billowed from black cauldrons.
The villagers couldn’t consume as much as the gluttonous Great Red Bird, so only a portion was cooked.
“Eating a Golden-Winged Roc… it’s like a myth!”
White Tiger bone broth and other delicacies rounded out the meal. Juicy roasted meats glistened over flames, their aromas intoxicating.
Fresh berries adorned the grassy feast, their vibrant hues irresistible.
“Clan Leader, Uncles, I brought better wine tonight.” Little Rascal unveiled an ancient tree trunk filled with fragrant liquor.
“Could this be… Monkey Wine?!” The men’s eyes bulged.
Even non-cultivators knew of this legendary brew—crafted from spiritual herbs, it was among the rarest of wines.
“Uncles, take small sips. Even our strongest drinkers will collapse after two cups.”
Ignoring the warning, one villager downed a full cup and immediately passed out, his body glowing as the wine refined his essence.
The others sipped cautiously under the moonlit lakeside, laughter blending with the scent of divine meats and celestial wine.
Soon, breakthroughs erupted. Almost everyone radiated light—ancient descendant flesh and Monkey Wine unleashed torrents of energy.
“Boogey, Tiger, Ermeng—don’t get too drunk! I’ve got treasures to distribute later!”
Here, Little Rascal shed his usual cunning, radiating pure joy.
“He’s truly a child here,” Er Meng observed.
Back in Stone Village, Little Rascal reverted to his innocent, carefree self—laughing loudly with his friends, unburdened by the outside world’s cruelty.
“If this village ever perished… I wonder what would become of him,” the drunken Great Red Bird slurred.
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