“Hurry, faster, we must go even faster! If we’re late, we’ll get nothing. The Tuoba lineage and the Rain Clan have already ventured deep inside!”
Outside the mountain range, a group of figures dashed at breakneck speed, their bodies wreathed in radiant light as they charged toward the depths of the primordial forest. These were formidable warriors from ancient sects, all experts who had come for the Bronze Treasure Book, eager to claim their share of the spoils in this final battle.
From another direction, a flock of monstrous birds appeared—massive in size, their feathers gleaming brilliantly. Some burned like embers, others shimmered in violet mist, while a few crackled like lightning. These were rare descendants of ancient beasts, led by eight or nine powerful leaders, their numbers blotting out the sky as they soared over the forest, terrifying and awe-inspiring, surrounded by blazing runes.
“By the heavens! The demonic birds of North Sky Peak have arrived! This complicates things—facing them will be perilous!”
Many in the forest looked up, their faces paling. Among the flock were nearly ten leaders of ancient bloodlines, a fearsome force that streaked across the sky like a swarm of comets. The wind howled as the monstrous birds skimmed the treetops, shattering ancient trees and leaving the mountainside in ruins, strewn with broken branches and fallen leaves.
“We must hurry, we can’t fall behind. The Ancient Divine Scripture is priceless—even if we can’t gather it all, we can trade fragments for supreme treasures!”
Wave after wave of cultivators arrived, undeterred even by the sight of the ancient descendants soaring overhead. They pressed onward, racing toward the heart of the dense forest.
The mountains were alive with dazzling lights as artifacts streaked through the sky. Countless experts scoured the terrain, searching for their quarry. Shouts, cries, and the roars of beasts echoed endlessly, turning the range into a chaotic battleground that roused every living creature within.
“What a grand spectacle,” murmured Little Rascal, his thick black hair dancing in the mountain breeze. His eyes gleamed like twin bolts of lightning, sensing the murderous intent in the air.
The world trembled as countless experts converged. Yet he showed no fear, striding forward to meet them head-on.
“Found him! Here! Hahaha—!”
A burst of laughter erupted—someone had spotted the boy before others could kill him.
“Those demonic birds overshot their mark! What luck—we found him first!”
This group consisted mostly of rogue cultivators who had banded together outside the mountains, forming a formidable force. Now, they encircled Little Rascal.
“Hand over the Bronze Treasure Book!” one of them barked.
“Why should I?” Little Rascal replied coolly.
The crowd sneered. Why? Because of strength, of course. In their eyes, the boy was already as good as dead, powerless and at their mercy.
“Just obey, and spare yourself the suffering. Sometimes, living is worse than death,” someone mocked.
It was the perfect illustration of “a tiger fallen to the plains, bullied by dogs.” They saw him as weak, someone they could threaten without consequence. In the past, who would have dared approach him? To them, a nine-apertured warrior was invincible.
“Come and try,” Little Rascal said calmly.
With cold laughter, they wasted no more words and struck swiftly, fearing interference from other ancient sects.
Brilliant runes flared as the strongest among them unleashed their most devastating attacks, sealing the area with bone inscriptions.
The combined might of dozens was overwhelming—gales tore through the land, uprooting ancient trees and sending boulders flying as hills crumbled. Though they acted arrogantly, they fought with full force, wary of any surprises.
“Fwoosh!”
Two golden beams shot from Little Rascal’s eyes, terrifying and unstoppable. Radiant symbols followed his gaze, piercing through the four leaders at the forefront.
“Ah—!”
They screamed in horror, staring at the gaping holes in their chests. Just two golden beams had annihilated four experts.
At the same time, a colossal purple lion-dragon materialized behind Little Rascal, towering like a mountain, its cold gaze sweeping over the crowd.
With a roar, it opened its maw—a vortex of lightning—sucking in the fleeing warriors. In an instant, dozens were reduced to ash, leaving nothing behind.
When the lion-dragon vanished, only drifting embers remained, settling into the forest floor. The battlefield was eerily clean—no blood, no bones.
Little Rascal continued onward, stepping over withered leaves as he moved toward the mountain’s edge, his robes fluttering in the wind. He exuded an ethereal grace, as if he hadn’t just slaughtered an entire group.
Finally, the true tide of warriors arrived. The sects had heard the commotion and closed in from all directions.
“Here! Don’t let him escape!”
This time, enemies surrounded him from every side—powerful clans, ancient sects, and monstrous beasts.
“ROAR—!”
A flood of savage creatures charged forth, led by ancient descendants—some armored in gleaming scales, others draped in lustrous pelts, their auras terrifying. The earth trembled as they carved a path through the forest, forcing the crowd to scatter.
“Make way!” bellowed the towering Azure-Scaled Leopard, its massive frame shaking the mountains. “Boy, hand over the Bronze Treasure Book!”
“West Ridge Beast Mountain, you overstep!” Human experts from major sects stepped forward in defiance.
“The scripture belongs to whoever claims it! You can’t just seize it by force!” others shouted.
Tensions flared as factions clashed, none willing to back down—not even before ancient descendants.
“Enough! Kill him first, then debate ownership!”
The Kun, Li, Meng, and Yuan clans—all sworn enemies of Little Rascal—pressed forward, wielding cursed artifacts meant to annihilate him utterly.
“Silence! None of you have the right to contend with us!” the Azure-Scaled Leopard roared.
“Shut up, all of you!”
Finally, Little Rascal’s voice cut through the chaos.
The mountains fell silent as countless eyes turned toward him.
“Boy, do you know who you’re speaking to?!” the leopard snarled.
“Fool,” Little Rascal replied coldly.
“Die!”
The leopard’s massive paw descended, capable of crushing stone. The crowd scrambled back in terror.
Yet, against all expectations, Little Rascal raised his fist—and met the blow head-on.
A sun-like radiance erupted from his strike, engulfing the leopard in an ocean of light.
“BOOM!”
The ancient descendant shattered, its body exploding in a rain of blood and golden mist.
Gasps of horror spread.
“He was supposed to be exhausted! How does he still possess such power?!”
The Kun, Li, Meng, and Yuan clans recoiled in terror. This defied all reports—the boy was supposed to be on death’s door!
“Still daring to come after me? Did you learn nothing in Hundred Shattered Mountains?” Little Rascal turned his gaze upon them.
“Activate the cursed artifacts!”
The clans struck first, then fled—but it was too late.
With a cold hum, Little Rascal’s body erupted in golden light. Countless divine feathers transformed into razor-sharp swords—manifestations of the Kun Peng’s divine technique.
“Pfft—!”
Blades pierced through the clansmen, slaughtering them en masse. Their leaders fell, their cursed artifacts seized and turned against them.
Blood mist filled the air as Little Rascal became a whirlwind of death, his golden wings unfurling like a god of war. He cut down all who stood in his path, reducing peaks to rubble.
The battlefield turned into hell.
“What’s happening?!”
The demonic birds of North Sky Peak circled back, only to witness the carnage.
Little Rascal’s fist shot upward, summoning a colossal Kun Peng that blotted out the sky. Its golden-black body crushed the avian leaders instantly, raining blood and feathers.
“RUN!”
Terror-stricken, the survivors fled in all directions.
Like a demon god, Little Rascal strode over corpses, chasing down his enemies with unstoppable force.
He was no longer fighting—he was dominating.
And nothing could stand in his way.
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