Chapter 52: When One Must Rely on Oneself

He glimpsed a hazy vision—devoid of warmth, only cold detachment. Though fragmented, it pierced his heart with sorrow. He strained to see more clearly, but a mist surged forth, and everything vanished. At that time, he had been far too young to retain clear memories. This was merely a deep imprint in his subconscious, surfacing now due to overwhelming emotion.

“Don’t cry, child. Everyone in the village is your family, and this is your home,” Shi Yunfeng said, wiping the tears from the little one’s face with his rough hands.

“Little Rascal, don’t cry. We’re all your brothers. Don’t think about sad things,” a group of children chimed in, crowding around him.

Shi Hao wiped his tears and said, “Grandpa, keep going.”

“After that, there wasn’t much else. Your parents didn’t say much more,” Shi Yunfeng recounted the past. The couple had stayed in Stone Village for a few months to care for Shi Hao, leaving only after ensuring he would survive. At that time, the frail Little Rascal had been just over a year old, yet he looked no bigger than a six-month-old baby.

“They didn’t want me…” Shi Hao’s tears fell again, his large eyes brimming with sorrow.

“No!” Shi Yunfeng shook his head. “They couldn’t bear to leave you, but they had no choice. They wanted to find a divine medicine to cure your condition.”

The holy terror scratched his head and whispered, “I was young then, but I still remember a little. That uncle was very heroic, though he looked ill. And that aunt was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I remember more clearly. Little Rascal lost his parents when he was just six months old. They disappeared then,” Shi Da Zhuang nodded.

Though years had passed, the old clan leader still vividly recalled the reluctance and sorrow on the couple’s faces when they left. “You were their only child. They said even if they died, they couldn’t bear to watch you waste away.”

Tears streamed down Shi Hao’s face as he murmured, “Father, Mother… where are you?”

The clan leader felt a weight lift from his heart after recounting the past. The couple had been incredibly powerful, yet they had rarely spoken of their ancient kingdom, leaving many things unclear. To seek the divine medicine, they would have had to venture into the most perilous primordial lands—places like the ancient divine mountains, where true rocs might dwell. Even if they found it, they would surely provoke fierce competition among ancient descendants.

“Willow God, can you help me? Can you let me see what’s hidden in my subconscious?” Shi Hao whispered beneath the tree when he was alone, his voice filled with longing.

“I must enter slumber. Wait until you’re older, when your blood energy is strong enough—perhaps in a year or two,” came the astonishing reply from the willow tree.

“Alright!” The Little Rascal’s eyes widened with hope, and he clenched his small fists. No longer sad, he resolved to understand his own condition and then uncover where his parents had gone. This was his simple goal.

The villagers soon realized that this new land was truly ideal for settlement. There were no excessively savage beasts, and the distant forests teemed with prey. Though fierce birds and beasts existed, they were not too difficult to handle. The nearby lake was abundant with fish, especially the precious Dragon Whisker Fish—a tonic so valuable it left every clansman grinning from ear to ear. In the past, even the direct descendants of the Purple Mountain lineage, the Thunder Clan, or the Golden Wolf Tribe couldn’t have enjoyed such luxury daily.

“We should explore the outside world. Where exactly are we? How far from the former Desolate Mountains? What happened to our old home?” Shi Lin Hu suggested.

“Uncle, let me go! I’ll ride the Azure-Scaled Eagle and scout carefully,” Shi Hao said. Under the envious gazes of the other children, the Little Rascal climbed onto the eagle’s back. With a sweep of its silver wings, they soared into the clouds, vanishing into the sky.

The fierce bird, highly sensitive to direction, circled once in the high air before darting like a silver lightning bolt toward a distant horizon.

“Ah! What happened? Why are these mountains shattered?” Shi Hao gasped in shock. Just a few hundred miles out, he noticed the land below was torn asunder—lifeless, its rivers and peaks utterly destroyed.

As they ventured deeper, he saw ruins—one colossal city after another reduced to rubble, stained with blood but devoid of corpses. Thousands of miles in, not a single living soul remained. Only remnants of blood marked where great tribes had once stood. This vast territory had become a land of death.

“That’s… a giant footprint!” From the sky, level with the clouds, he could clearly see an enormous imprint—one that had crushed an entire mountain range, reducing countless peaks to dust.

The Little Rascal was stunned. What kind of colossal creature could have done this?

Flying onward, they encountered massive chasms—gaping, bottomless pits that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be claw marks, gouged into the earth by some monstrous bird.

“This beast…” Shi Hao was speechless.

The Azure-Scaled Eagle trembled—a shiver born from its very soul, an instinctive reverence for a supreme being. Though both were avian, the gap between them was unimaginable.

Further ahead, the land was scorched for thousands of miles, the mountains melted into a barren wasteland.

“Could this be… the aftermath of Little Red going berserk?” the Little Rascal muttered to himself.

The Azure-Scaled Eagle, possessing high intelligence, circled these battlefields for a long time, absorbing the remnants of overwhelming battle intent—especially the traces left by avian combatants, which proved immensely enlightening.

“Azure Auntie, when Purple Cloud and Great Peng learn to fly, I’ll bring them here to meditate on these places,” Shi Hao offered.

With a cry, the eagle acknowledged his words, appreciating the boy’s wisdom and thoughtfulness.

Pressing onward, they saw endless mountain ranges flattened—thousands of towering peaks sheared off cleanly, a sight both horrifying and awe-inspiring.

After half a day of travel, the Azure-Scaled Eagle turned back, wary of lingering dangers in the war-torn wasteland.

They returned at sunset, the journey having exhausted even the eagle, a descendant of ancient demonic birds.

“Awoo… Azure Auntie is back!” the children cheered.

“What did you find, child? Where is this place? How far from the Desolate Mountains?” Shi Fei Jiao asked.

A crowd gathered, even the elder clansmen joining in—everyone was deeply concerned.

“I don’t know how far from our old home, but it must be at least fifty thousand miles. The entire land has been shattered, the mountains collapsed…” Shi Hao recounted everything he had seen, leaving the villagers aghast.

“A true calamity… No wonder the Willow God moved Stone Village away!” the clan leader sighed. He knew well that without the willow tree, Stone Village would have been obliterated—not a soul spared. The devastation below was proof enough.

Over the next month, Shi Hao frequently ventured out with the Azure-Scaled Eagle, sometimes disappearing for days. Eventually, he pieced together the truth.

“Clan Leader Grandpa, the thousand-mile Desolate Mountains are completely destroyed. Our old home is gone,” Shi Hao announced, leaving everyone stunned.

Within a hundred-thousand-mile radius, all life had perished—even the fierce beasts and swarms of monstrous birds had vanished without a trace, perhaps devoured by supreme beings.

A hundred thousand miles—now a dead land, devoid of any living creature.

“What a catastrophe… The Thunder Clan, Purple Mountain, Floating Great Marsh, Golden Wolf Tribe—such mighty clans, with populations in the tens of millions within their marquisates… all gone,” an elder lamented.

Though they had once been enemies, past grudges meant nothing in the face of such devastation. The combined populations of all the great clans—hundreds of millions—had perished. This was an unprecedented calamity.

“We must grow stronger!”

“We must become strong enough to protect our home!” the children shouted, their young hearts shaken but their spirits ignited with determination.

“Yes! We must start now—train hard, master bone inscriptions. With a hundred thousand miles now empty, perhaps we can even establish our own kingdom!” the older boys declared ambitiously.

“Lofty dreams, but difficult to achieve. The ancient kingdoms endure because they may still harbor living deities from antiquity—and because they themselves are immensely powerful. A mere retainer of an ancient kingdom could easily annihilate the Golden Wolf Tribe or Floating Great Marsh. The terror of these unbroken lineages, surviving since ancient times, is beyond imagination,” the clan leader sighed.

“Don’t worry! We have the Willow God. When we grow up, we’ll all be strong. And with Little Rascal’s talent—already capable of fighting ancient true roc cubs—won’t we carve out a mighty kingdom?” The children clenched their fists, refusing to back down.

“Good! We’ll await your glory. As the late elders said, our clan was once mighty in antiquity, with ancient deities who could battle true primordial beasts. I hope you can restore that brilliance and make our so-called ancestral homeland renowned across this domain!” Shi Yunfeng encouraged, patting the children’s heads. A man must strive—and dream big.

In the days that followed, the children of Stone Village trained relentlessly, mastering bone inscriptions and tempering their blood energy until each was as robust as a wild beast.

Their new home was truly blessed. Beyond the Dragon Whisker Fish, they discovered Dragon-Tendon Serpents—fierce yet huntable, their sinews a rare treasure. When boiled and consumed, they greatly strengthened one’s bones and tendons.

Not only the children grew swiftly—even the adults reaped immense benefits, brimming with inexhaustible vigor.

Time flew, and over a year passed. By his original age, the Little Rascal would be just over five, but accounting for the “lost” months of his infancy, he was now six.

“I’m six now. I can lift a thirty-thousand-pound boulder. Willow God, when will you awaken?” Shi Hao murmured before the great willow. After a year, he had grown taller, his bright eyes gleaming with wisdom, his features delicate and refined.

“Chirp chirp…” Birds called from the sky—Purple Cloud, Great Peng, and Little Azure, though not growing quickly, now had four-meter wingspans and could pierce the clouds with astonishing speed.

“Wait for me! I’m coming to meditate with you on the battlefield ruins!” Shi Hao waved, then leaped skyward, landing deftly on Purple Cloud’s back.

With a howling wind, they vanished into the horizon, streaking toward the lifeless wasteland.

Amid shattered mountains and cracked earth, desolation reigned—silent and still.

“This time, let’s head west,” Shi Hao directed as they reached the battlefield, pointing toward a collapsed mountain range.

Swift as the wind, they arrived, scouring the ruins for lingering traces of battle.

“Chirp!” Little Azure cried, diving toward a vast basin, its body glowing with radiant patterns—a mutation after consuming the Suan Ni’s flesh.

“Wait—this isn’t a basin. It’s a dried-up lake, emptied during that cataclysmic battle,” Shi Hao realized.

Suddenly, Purple Cloud screeched, sensing movement below.

The golden-hued Great Peng descended, circling the parched lakebed.

“What creature is that?” Shi Hao gasped.

At the lake’s bottom lay a being, covered in dust, motionless—as if entombed for years. Only its glowing eyes betrayed life.

“Ah! A monkey? Only a foot tall, but… why does it have three heads and six arms?!” Shi Hao exclaimed.