Little Rascal controlled his strength, not taking Jiao Peng’s life—otherwise, the people of Luofu Great Marsh would never let it go. They might slaughter Stone Village and bring about a calamity. Such was reality. To survive in the Great Wastelands, one must not only resist the primordial beasts but also sometimes swallow one’s pride, or risk annihilation. It was the first time young Shi Hao felt such a burning desire for power!
“Attack together!” Lei Mingyuan growled, launching his assault as Zi Shan Kun also charged forward again. Little Rascal tossed Jiao Peng aside like a broken jar and unleashed another Treasure Spell, clashing with the other two. In an instant, brilliance erupted—lightning crackled, violet qi surged, and fierce avian cries filled the air as the battle intensified.
Lei Mingyuan spread his fingers wide, summoning a vicious bird shrouded in black lightning from the dazzling electric glow, aiming straight for Little Rascal. But it failed to land. Shi Hao countered with his own Treasure Spell: the ancient demonic bird unfurled its terrifying maw and swallowed the thunderbird whole, obliterating it at its source. The onlookers gasped—what a formidable Treasure Spell!
“Whoosh!”
A chilling gleam shot forth like lightning, streaking toward the back of Little Rascal’s head! Jiao Peng, ruthless and decisive, had risen from the ground. Unappreciative of Shi Hao’s earlier mercy, he conjured his Treasure Spell once more, morphing his Flood Dragon into a “Death Arrow” and firing it from his bowstring. The beam was fearsome, its edge icy and lethal.
Screams erupted from Stone Village as many turned pale.
“Ah!” The twin girls from the Cloudsky Palace also cried out in shock.
Little Rascal sensed danger. He whirled around, his eyes gleaming with clarity and purity. With a shake of his arm, radiant symbols blazed to life, and a second bright moon manifested. Clapping his hands together, the two moons merged, forming a pristine silver millstone.
As the Death Arrow of the Flood Dragon shot toward him, he gently spun the luminous millstone—*crack, crack!* The savage, rune-laden arrow shattered into nothingness.
The crowd gaped in astonishment.
The elder from Cloudsky Palace sighed softly. “Truly remarkable. To comprehend and evolve Treasure Spells at such a young age—what peerless talent!”
This wasn’t his first praise, and none could refute it.
In truth, whether from the Thunder Clan, the Zi Mountain lineage, or Luofu Great Marsh, their ancestral Treasure Spells were renowned. But the three children’s execution was lacking, leading to their humiliating defeat.
Jiao Peng’s face was ashen. From start to finish, he had been suppressed by this village boy, never gaining the upper hand. The blow to his confidence was devastating.
“Push me again, and the consequences will be yours alone!” Shi Hao’s words were calm but final.
Jiao Peng paled further, but his eyes soon darkened with malice. He lunged forward once more.
The three prodigies converged on Little Rascal. Thunder roared, lion-dragons bellowed, and Flood Dragons shrieked—deafening clamor filled the battlefield.
Above, the ancient demonic bird screeched, its wings stretching to blot out the sky. A sense of dread weighed upon the crowd as its oppressive aura spread. It dominated the battle, effortlessly crushing the flaming lion-dragon, thunderbird, and Flood Dragon beneath its merciless onslaught.
With a *boom*, Jiao Peng, Zi Shan Kun, and Lei Mingyuan were sent flying, coughing blood and rolling in the dirt.
The spectators were stunned. These were the three greatest prodigies within a fifty-thousand-mile radius—yet a mere village boy had defeated them all. It was unbelievable, horrifying even.
Humiliated and enraged, the three youths struggled to their feet, their pristine genius reputations now tarnished.
Little Rascal dashed forward, kicking Jiao Peng like a ball into a boulder. His agonized scream echoed—never had he suffered so grievously.
Zi Shan Kun and Lei Mingyuan tried to flee but failed. Little Rascal caught them, stomping them until they spat blood and writhed in pain.
Finally, he hauled them up, lined them in a row, and grabbed a stone roller—*smash!*
“Ah—!”
The two wailed, their sturdy bodies no match for Little Rascal’s brutal strength. Collapsed and broken, their agony was unbearable.
“You dare?! If you strike me again, I’ll slaughter your entire village!” Jiao Peng snarled, seeing Shi Hao approach with the roller.
*Thud!*
Without blinking, Little Rascal smashed it straight into his face.
“Gyaaah—!”
The sound that escaped Jiao Peng was barely human. His jaw twisted, his nose shattered, and every tooth was knocked loose by the crushing blow.
Even the onlookers winced in sympathy.
Jiao Cang, the middle-aged powerhouse from Luofu Great Marsh, twitched violently. With a surge of killing intent, he stepped forward.
“Brother Jiao Cang, what’s this? Earlier, you said it was just children squabbling. Why intervene?” The elder from Cloudsky Palace interjected.
“Indeed, just a skirmish among youngsters. No need for anger,” the Golden Wolf Tribe’s leader added, mediating.
Oddly enough, many had been plotting to seize the Lion-Dragon’s bone. Yet Golden Wolf’s sudden shift in tone puzzled them.
“Child, your talent is exceedingly rare. But living in these wastelands will waste it. Join our Golden Wolf Tribe—we’ll teach you the strongest Bone Runes and offer a supreme Treasure Spell.”
The crowd simmered with silent curses—what a sly move! Not only would they gain a genius, but they’d also smoothly claim the Lion-Dragon’s bone.
“Little Rascal, come to Cloudsky Palace! We’ll take you to see snowy seas and drink the sweetest beast milk!” The two girls winked at him.
“I *love* beast milk!” Little Rascal beamed, fluttering his large eyes.
Golden Wolf’s members frowned. Was this kid playing them?
“Choosing the right master is critical. Our lineage commands lightning—you could become a Thunder God. Join us,” even the Thunder Clan’s elder urged, despite his prodigy’s defeat.
Others chimed in, eager to recruit the genius, claim the Lion-Dragon’s bone, and seize the three young divine birds—all in one effortless swoop.
But not all were so diplomatic.
“How hypocritical! We’re all here for the Lion-Dragon’s bone. Even if we take the boy, we’d likely kill him later to erase loose ends,” someone sneered covertly.
Little Rascal had already stopped. The three defeated youths were carried back by their clansmen, bruised, bloody, and humiliated.
Jiao Cang scoffed openly. “Enough pretense. Luofu Great Marsh wants the bone, and this village cannot keep it.”
Nods of agreement followed. “Indeed, such treasures bring doom to small villages. We should discuss its proper allocation.”
“And those three fledgling divine birds shouldn’t remain here either.”
Stone Village trembled in fury. Were the weak truly so insignificant? No consultation, no respect—just blatant disregard.
“Uncles, the Lion-Dragon’s bone is *ours*—won with lives and blood. And Great Peng, Little Azure, Purple Cloud are my friends,” Little Rascal declared, his voice clear and firm.
Silence fell.
The three young birds nuzzled his arms affectionately, their bright eyes gleaming with intelligence.
“Surrender them, unless you want extinction,” a major clan’s expert stated coldly.
“*Yours*? Once Stone Village is gone, they’ll be ownerless!” Jiao Peng spat, wiping blood from his lips.
“You—you’re bullying us!” Snivel Kid whimpered, realizing their hopeless position.
Jiao Peng smirked darkly, gesturing to the twenty-meter-long flying Flood Dragon circling above. “Uncle Jiao, devour those brats—especially the milk-stained runt! Crush his bones, but leave him alive for me!”
A thunderous roar shook the air as the beast’s massive head lowered, its murderous gaze fixed on the village children.
“You’re going too far!” Shi Da Zhuang trembled with rage.
“So what? Resist, and we’ll paint your village red,” Jiao Peng sneered, perched atop the Flood Dragon.
Jiao Cang watched indifferently. “Hand over the bone and the birds. Or this village vanishes.”
Stone Village might be rustic, but its people had spine.
“Better shattered jade than intact tile! Push us, and we’ll fight to the last drop of blood!” Shi Lin Hu roared.
They knew—even compliance meant slaughter to cover the theft.
Jiao Cang’s voice dripped disdain. “You’d doom your entire village?”
“Uncle Jiao, *now*! Tear them apart!” Jiao Peng commanded, pointing at Little Rascal.
Little Rascal turned to the charred willow, his eyes pure and trusting.
“Willow Deity, I know you hear me. Please, protect our home.”
Jiao Peng laughed cruelly. “Playing god? Uncle Jiao, massacre them—and snap off that ‘sacred’ willow’s branch for me!”
With a furious bellow, the Flood Dragon dove, its vast form casting a deadly shadow.
“Grandpa, stop them!” the twin girls begged their elder.
“Wait!” The Cloudsky Palace elder hissed, his hairs standing on end.
Then—
*Sizzle!*
A radiant emerald light erupted. A jade-like willow branch, glowing with divine brilliance, pierced the heavens.
The descending Flood Dragon’s eyes bulged in terror.
*ROAR—!*
Its cry was cut short as the luminous branch—like a chain of cosmic order—impaled its body with a sickening *thud*.
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