Chapter 201:

The moonlight was soft, hazy, and radiant, filling the lakeside with laughter. After more than two years apart, Little Rascal and Bei Feng were overjoyed and brimming with energy. “Grandpa Chief, your illness can be cured now!” Little Rascal ran over, his smile pure and untainted, filled with happiness. He had found the Monkey Wine, which could heal the old chief’s injuries. If not for retrieving the Fountain of Youth and the Monkey Wine—divine treasures of unparalleled rarity—he would have had to beg the Willow God for help. The Willow God’s gaze might stretch far beyond the Nine Heavens, and though it guarded Stone Village, it rarely intervened in the natural cycle of life and death among the villagers.

“I feel a fire burning inside me. The mysterious injury I suffered at the entrance of the Divine Treasury is healing, and the lingering ailment is fading,” the chief said excitedly. After all these years, he had never dared hope for a cure. Yet this child had brought back such divine wine, rekindling his hope.

“Grandpa Chief, drink a few more cups. Don’t worry about getting drunk—I’ll help you absorb the medicinal properties,” Little Rascal said. Healing the chief had always been a deep wish of his.

“Good!” Shi Yun Feng laughed heartily, drinking freely and clinking cups with those around him, utterly delighted. Rays of light burst from his pores, enveloping him in a mystical glow. Little Rascal swiftly acted, using ancient techniques from the *Primordial True Record* to strike his body, dispersing the medicinal energy and aiding in the cure.

The villagers were stirred, watching nervously, all hoping for the chief’s recovery. The divine wine’s potency was immense. After another cup, the old chief’s body blazed like fire, radiant and dazzling. Crackling sounds filled the air as Little Rascal continued his work, channeling countless runes into the chief’s body, bolstering his vitality.

Finally, a plume of gray mist erupted from the chief’s mouth, dissipating into the air with a hiss. His old affliction was eradicated. The divine wine’s effects surged, showering him in luminous rain, mending his wounds and nourishing his flesh, swiftly restoring him from weakness to strength.

“I… I’m truly healed!” The chief sprang to his feet, feeling twenty years younger. His body brimmed with power, his flesh crystalline, runes flickering as divine radiance coalesced within him. The usually composed Shi Yun Feng had tears in his eyes. Of the dozen brothers who had ventured out, only he had returned—only to be plagued by illness until now.

The villagers erupted in joy, rushing forward. The lakeside grew even livelier, and soon a dozen people lay drunk, overwhelmed by happiness.

*Clang! Clang!* Streaks of light sliced through the night sky as treasures landed on the grass.

“Wow, so many treasures!” Holy Terror and Snotty Brat’s eyes nearly popped out. Even Shi Lin Hu and Shi Fei Jiao stood dumbfounded. Their cultivation had deepened, and they recognized the extraordinary nature of these artifacts.

“You’re really giving them to us?” Er Meng, who had been nearly drunk, widened his eyes in disbelief.

“I promised gifts, didn’t I?” Little Rascal grinned, his joy pure and untainted.

The crowd was stunned and overjoyed.

“This crimson sword belonged to a Fat Lizard, forged from bloodthirsty fangs—razor-sharp and imbued with powerful runes. This beast horn, when blown, can shatter flesh with its mournful wail. I took it from a disciple of the Stone Kingdom’s Martial Prince’s estate. This beast hide…” Little Rascal introduced each treasure, detailing their powers and origins—over a dozen spoils of war.

Under the moonlit night, the youths and adults marveled, caressing each artifact with reverence. Stone Village had two ancestral treasures, reserved for dire emergencies. Now, Little Rascal had brought back a dozen more, all extraordinary.

The villagers were intoxicated—not just by wine, but by joy.

After distributing the treasures, Little Rascal turned toward the village, where spiritual herbs thrived in the misty aura. “Bei Feng, let’s plant the Immortal Peach Tree,” he called.

Inside the Hundred Shattered Mountains, he had unearthed a quasi-saint herb. Seeing the other plants flourishing, he decided to plant the Silver Peach Tree as well.

“What’s this?” The villagers gasped.

“This is a Silver Peach Tree, on the verge of evolving into a true saint herb,” Little Rascal explained. The tree glowed, its gnarled trunk no thicker than a wrist, standing half a person’s height. Its silver branches and leaves shimmered like burning flames. Two silver peaches, tinged with gold, adorned its boughs, radiant as divine jade and exuding a fragrance surpassing all spiritual herbs.

“Plant it in the village center!” They dug a pit, pouring in a whole sack of golden sand to nourish the tree.

“The fruits are nearly ripe. Though not yet saint-grade, they far surpass ordinary spiritual herbs,” Da Zhuang, Snotty Brat, and Holy Terror cheered, dancing around the tree. Even Shi Lin Hu and Shi Fei Jiao were thrilled. With such treasures, Stone Village’s rise was inevitable.

As night deepened, the villagers dispersed, some returning to their fragrant homes, others collapsing drunk by the lake.

At dawn, Little Rascal was jolted awake by chaos. Rubbing his eyes, he dashed out of the chief’s courtyard, Bei Feng close behind.

“Child, you brought back a bunch of ancient beasts yesterday—including a live chicken! It’s turned into a spirit, burrowing underground. We can’t catch it!” Aunt Tiger and others panted, exhausted from the chase.

Little Rascal’s heart sank. Drunk, he had carelessly released the Eight-Treasure Chicken from his spatial pouch.

“Did it escape?” Even Second Baldy and the others rushed over, including the golden furball, who bared its teeth in annoyance.

“No, it’s still in the village. But a spirit chicken could cause trouble—better catch and stew it,” Aunt Tiger declared fiercely.

“No! Don’t harm it!” Little Rascal blocked the burly aunties, fearing they’d succeed and leave him in despair.

“Where is that spirit chicken? We’ve brought artifacts—it won’t escape!” Shi Lin Hu and the men mobilized, armed for the hunt.

“Stop!” Little Rascal intervened. Second Baldy then launched into an explanation of the Eight-Treasure Chicken’s value, leaving everyone stunned.

“What? Its eggs rival spiritual herbs, laid every half-month?” The crowd gasped.

“Exactly. I brought it back to raise. Even the Stone Kingdom’s royal family only has one,” Little Rascal said.

The biggest worry was that the chicken might have fled, given its earth-diving ability.

“It’s still here,” Bei Feng whispered, pointing ahead.

Little Rascal turned to see the creature lounging under the willow roots, utterly relaxed. It didn’t even stir at his approach, knowing he wouldn’t harm it—unlike the dangerous aunties.

“You’re not running?” Big Red Bird asked, curious.

The chicken shot it a disdainful glance, its expression rich with contempt, then devoutly kowtowed to the willow tree.

Big Red Bird fumed. A mere chicken dared look down on it? It nearly pounced but wilted under the willow’s luminous branches.

“Don’t underestimate it. Their lineage was renowned even in the Primordial Era—no less noble than yours,” Second Baldy said.

Big Red Bird nearly swatted him.

Thus, Little Rascal and Bei Feng settled back into village life, training daily, hunting, and gathering herbs—days filled with simple joy.

*Crunch, crunch…*

“Big Brother, what are you chewing?” Bei Feng asked, noticing Little Rascal gnawing on something.

“A tower. A wretched tower that stole my pure-blood treasures and won’t give them back!” Little Rascal grumbled. He had been shaking the pristine little tower for days, but the Devouring Sparrow’s wing and Qiong Qi’s claw remained trapped inside.

The inch-high tower gleamed, having profited greatly from the battle, absorbing the flesh treasures severed by Ghost Grandpa.

“Furball, you try!” Desperate, Little Rascal summoned the golden furball.

The creature latched onto the tower, gnawing furiously before flinging it aside, clutching its teeth in pain.

“Useless! It won’t budge!” Little Rascal wailed, heartbroken.

Second Baldy and Big Red Bird watched eagerly—pure-blood flesh was inside! But no matter how he shook it, the tower remained unmoved.

“Has it digested them? I’ve seen powder falling—it’s ominous,” Second Baldy mused.

Little Rascal shrieked, shaking the tower violently. “Give back my treasures!”

Finally, he sought the Willow God’s aid. The Devouring Sparrow, Qiong Qi, and others’ blood could perfect his ten-year baptism.

“This tower has reappeared…” The Willow God studied it intently. “It surfaced in the Primordial Era and the Ancient Times, wielding divine might. Now it’s tiny and translucent—hard to recognize.”

“Willow God, is it significant?” Little Rascal asked.

“Immensely. It once shook the heavens,” the Willow God replied gravely.