Chapter 396: Array Formation

**Blood Movement, Cave Heaven, Spirit Transformation, and Glyph Inscription**—these four realms represent the entirety of cultivation for many beings, as breaking through them is a lifelong struggle, nearly impossible! They stand like four towering mountains, each more formidable than the last. The further one advances, the steeper the path becomes, akin to a narrow trail carved into a cliff face—ascending it is harder than reaching the heavens.

For humanity, cultivation is especially arduous. Were it not for the ancient ancestors who blazed trails by imitating the primordial runes of other races, there might be no path forward today. Clearly, this road is fraught with peril, built upon blood and sweat. Yet, through generations of perseverance, it has gradually widened.

For human cultivators, these four great realms nearly encompass everything. Breaking beyond them is a monumental task—many spend their entire lives striving, only to remain on the path.

At fourteen, Shi Hao shattered into the **fifth great realm**—an unimaginable feat, a legend among humans that would shake the world if known.

**Array Formation**—a profoundly mysterious realm. Most who reach this stage are no longer in their youth, their prime years long faded. Few remain as young as Shi Hao.

Standing atop a towering peak, Shi Hao gazed upon the boundless land below—lush mountains, endless ridges, a majestic landscape that could not contain his soaring thoughts.

He had ascended once more. In the **Barren Lands**, he was now undeniably a powerhouse, a force to be reckoned with in any race.

**A fourteen-year-old king**—a true **Young Supreme**, unmatched across the wilderness.

At the late stage of **Glyph Inscription**, exceptional talents could attain the rank of **Marquis**. But Shi Hao had transcended that, stepping into a higher plane, shedding the title of “Marquis” to become a true **King**.

“**Array Formation**—this realm is unique, intricate, and profound. Each person’s gains differ. Only those who truly comprehend it can rise above,” Shi Hao murmured. The deeper his understanding, the more he realized the hardships of cultivation.

If **Glyph Inscription** was about imitating other races, etching runes within the body and beginning to deduce techniques, then **Array Formation** was evolution at a higher level—truly harnessing those inscribed patterns.

**Array Formation** meant engraving formations within the flesh. What did that entail? Compared to the previous realm, combat power soared exponentially!

Few dared to carve complex formations within themselves. Most relied on inherited racial techniques—safe, established arrays, lacking the defiance of heaven-defying originality.

This realm was a watershed. Many settled for simple **Treasure Spell Arrays**, considering it success. Only a rare few ascended further, assembling boundless **Slaughter Arrays**.

At that point, combat power became a chasm between heaven and earth.

“**Willow God** once said, ‘Few truly understand **Array Formation**. What is it? It is creation, a monumental feat—not merely etching arrays within the body,'” Shi Hao mused.

With that, he leaped from the peak and returned to **Stone Village**. Freshly ascended, he did not rush into further training but instead relaxed.

“**Uncle Hao**, you’re back!” A snot-nosed child scampered over excitedly. Among the village children, Shi Hao was the undisputed favorite—he led them deep into the wilderness, raiding nests of fierce birds and capturing young **Ancient Descendants**.

“**Squeak!**” On a wall, a **purple squirrel** with a third eye chattered incessantly.

“**Woof!**” Nearby, three **Lightning Hounds**—only half a meter long but crackling with electricity—streaked toward him like golden bolts.

From above, the cry of a **Crimson-Feathered Crane** echoed as it clumsily glided down from a branch, still unable to fly properly, its body wreathed in radiant mist.

Half a year ago, Shi Hao had led the children into the mountains, returning with these exotic creatures. Now, they thrived. One day, they might even form an army of **ferocious beasts and divine birds**!

“**Uncle Hao**, when are we going back to the mountains?” a child asked eagerly. The wilderness, with its mysteries and treasures—rare herbs, spirit fruits, even beast cubs—was irresistible.

“Train hard. Whoever improves the fastest gets to come with me,” Shi Hao replied with a laugh.

He spent the day guiding the children in cultivation, only dispersing when mealtime arrived.

Above, the cries of massive birds heralded the arrival of **Great Peng**, **Purple Cloud**, and **Little Azure**—descendants of the **Azure-Scaled Eagle**, now mutated and far stronger. Their transformation owed much to the **Willow God**, under whose branches they had grown, awakening ancestral bloodlines.

“**Purple Cloud**, pay close attention. I’ll teach you something,” Shi Hao said. Though the three birds were formidable, he believed they had yet to unlock the full legacy of their **Heavenly Peng** ancestry.

His first **Treasure Spell** had come from them—now, it was time to repay the favor.

Like the **Golden-Winged Peng**, the **Heavenly Peng** was among the mightiest descendants of the **Kun Peng**. With his mastery of **Kun Peng Arts**, Shi Hao could extract techniques suited for them.

“**Ancestral techniques?!**” The birds were stunned, then ecstatic. Though their bloodlines had awakened, their inherited memories were fragmented. Now, they beheld something earth-shaking.

For days, Shi Hao meticulously imparted the **Heavenly Peng’s legacy**, embedding it into their minds for gradual comprehension. Even the **Azure-Scaled Eagle Matriarch** returned, absorbing the teachings before entering seclusion.

In the following months, Shi Hao balanced his own cultivation with guiding the children, distributing treasures he had brought back from his journeys.

“**Squeak!**” A streak of gold—**Furball**—returned, accompanied by **Big Red** and **Baldie**. This elusive trio, always scouring the wilderness for the **Supreme Divine Treasure**, was rarely seen.

Shi Hao’s eyes gleamed as he recalled a certain **mountain treasure**, rumored to be in the **Vermilion Bird’s** possession.

“**Furball, where did you hide the mountain treasure?**” he asked eagerly, probing the creature’s body—only to find its fractured runes partially restored, but no treasure.

Puzzled, Furball shook its head.

Undeterred, Shi Hao led it back to the **Desolate Ten Thousand Miles**—once barren, now lush with life.

At the dried-up lakebed where Furball had once been buried, Shi Hao was shocked to find signs of digging. The hardened mud had been excavated, the depths hollowed out.

Furball screeched, clawing at its fur as if remembering. “**I hid something here—it’s gone!**”

“**Damn it, someone got here first!**” Shi Hao’s heart sank.

“**Roar—!**” Furball erupted in fury. Despite its tiny size, a terrifying aura erupted—golden fur bristling, eyes blazing. Most astonishingly, it manifested **three heads and six arms**, bones cracking as they extended.

“**Ah—!**” it howled, enraged.

Shi Hao stared, then grinned. “**Is it recovering?**”

This was the **Vermilion Bird’s Divine Ability—Three Heads, Six Arms!**

Finding nothing else, they returned to **Stone Village**, where Shi Hao studied Furball closely. Though its memories remained fragmented, its combat power had surged.

“**Furball, teach me your techniques,**” Shi Hao said, undeterred by the lost treasure.

“**Excellent. The Vermilion Bird’s body arts are among the supreme techniques,**” the **Willow God** remarked.

Over the next fortnight, Shi Hao meticulously deciphered Furball’s restored runes, mastering a portion of the **Vermilion Bird’s Arts**—already surpassing those of **Ancient Descendants**.

In the following months, he refined his skills, occasionally leading the children on hunts for spirit herbs.

By now, he had mastered the **Vermilion Bird’s Arts**, adding another divine ability to his arsenal.

“**Furball, I’ll restore you completely one day,**” Shi Hao vowed.

Time flowed swiftly. Two months later, nearing fifteen, Shi Hao had solidified his foundation, pushing his abilities to their limits.

“**Uncle Hao, what kind of fist technique is this?**” a child asked.

“**Lightning Fist!**” Shi Hao demonstrated, teaching them runes gleaned from the **Lightning Hounds**. Though useless to him now, he had merged them into his **Thunder Beast Arts**, enhancing their power.

Other minor techniques were similarly fused, strengthening his core abilities.

At the village’s edge, beneath the **Willow God’s** luminous branches—eighty-one strands glowing emerald, draped in mist and swirling **Primordial Chaos**—Shi Hao sat cross-legged, meditating over a beast hide.

It was a relic from the **Void God Realm**, bearing **Sage Sword Intent** and a sealed **miniature world**. He sought to unlock its secrets.

Suddenly, the willow trembled, its **Primordial Chaos** thickening as a voice resonated in his mind:

“**The chaos of the Barren Lands approaches.**”

“**What?**” Shi Hao’s eyes snapped open. Lost in cultivation, he had lost track of time.

The day he had long anticipated—**was it finally here?**