“Listen, that savage bird is screeching!” The group halted dozens of miles away, bracing for battle as if facing a formidable enemy. The woman leading them was clad in snow-white robes, ethereally beautiful, with silky black hair cascading like satin. Her delicate oval face showed no trace of tension as her sparkling eyes gazed deep into the mountain range. “At this distance, it shouldn’t have detected us.”
From the heart of the mountains, the bird’s cry rang out like the clash of ten thousand swords or the thunder of galloping steeds, shaking the peaks and sending massive boulders tumbling as if an earthquake had struck—proof of the creature’s terrifying might. In the distance, a radiant light surged skyward, waves of energy rolling like an ocean, as if an eternal divine furnace burned between heaven and earth, illuminating the land like the birth of a deity.
“That savage bird is a descendant of an ancient divine avian. At first, we thought it had broken through and needed to replenish its blood essence, so it devoured a tribe of millions. But later, we realized it was laying eggs,” said a middle-aged man.
“This is a powerful remnant species, carrying the blood of the ancient Peacock King. Its eggs are extraordinary—we must obtain them. With careful nurturing, we might even revive a fraction of the ancient divine might! Its treasure spell was once hailed as peerless!” The elderly woman spoke excitedly, her silver eyes flickering with glyphs despite her age.
Such ancient remnant species were rare and formidable beings, and tracing their lineage only made their eggs more mysterious and valuable. Extracting a treasure spell from an adult Five-Colored Peacock was impossible—not only would capturing it require an unthinkable cost, but it could shatter its own glyphs with a mere thought. Cases like Shi Village, where they obtained a deceased Lion-Dragon and discovered its primal glyphs, were exceedingly rare.
To uncover the secrets of the ancient Peacock King, targeting an adult remnant was futile. The only hope lay in its eggs—raising the hatchling to glimpse the treasure spell of the ancient divine bird.
“Something might go wrong. We must hurry and follow, everyone stay alert,” the white-robed woman said, her voice melodious, lips parting to reveal pearly teeth.
“It just laid its eggs and is weakened—this is our best chance.” The group nodded in agreement.
Unbeknownst to them, their fears had already come true. The descendant of the ancient divine king had lost its egg and was now rampaging across the land, searching for the thief.
“Little White, run! It’s here!” Little Rascal turned back to see a surge of five-colored divine light, the overwhelming life force crashing like tidal waves. A colossal peacock rose from the mountains, wreathed in mist and radiating rainbow hues. With a sweep of its wings, it flattened forests and stone peaks alike.
“Pfft!” The golden furball, its tiny claws mischievous, grabbed a rock and tried to crack the five-colored egg—only for the stone to shatter while the shell remained unscathed, gleaming with a crystalline sheen.
Little Rascal panicked. “Furball, stop messing around! That beast will catch up soon. We should ditch the egg and run!”
The fist-sized golden ball, eyes darting, hugged the egg protectively and turned away—clearly claiming it as its own. Then, in a shocking move, it started gnawing at the shell with its tiny, pearly teeth.
“Ah! Furball, don’t bite it!” Little Rascal cried. This was a rare and powerful treasure egg—if hatched, it might grant them a legendary treasure spell. With the *Primordial True Interpretation*, his cultivation path was set, but he lacked powerful spells. In this era, treasure spells were exceedingly rare; even massive clans with millions of members possessed only one or two.
*Crack!*
Under Little Rascal’s stunned gaze, Furball’s teeth pierced the shell. Five-colored light spilled out, the surge of energy terrifyingly intense.
“Furball, you little wastrel!” Little Rascal scolded, grabbing its tail and dangling it upside down. But Furball refused to let go, clinging to the shell and gnawing furiously.
It was too late—the egg was breached. Little Rascal sighed, knowing Furball had carried it from the mountains and thus had the right to decide its fate.
*Slurp, slurp…*
Furball drank greedily, blissfully ignoring the apocalyptic five-colored light behind them. Its belly swelled as it guzzled the luminous liquid. A fragrant aroma filled the air, the egg’s contents radiant and sweet.
*Boom!*
A flood of divine light engulfed the area, rocks exploding as the unicorn barely dodged a boulder weighing tens of thousands of pounds.
“It’s coming!” Little Rascal’s scalp prickled. This was an ancient remnant species—far beyond their current ability to fight.
The Five-Colored Peacock hadn’t spotted them yet but knew the thief was in this direction. It pursued relentlessly, enraged. The only saving grace was the unicorn’s speed—any other creature would have been caught instantly.
Furball, finally alarmed, shoved the egg at Little Rascal and scratched its head, trying to summon a treasure spell—but nothing happened.
Seeing no other choice, Little Rascal gulped down the egg’s contents. Within moments, his body shimmered with radiant light, glyphs swirling across his skin—he was on the verge of a breakthrough.
“Oh no! Willow God told me to suppress my cultivation for a month—there must be a reason. Breaking through now might not be good.”
He recalled the *Primordial True Interpretation*, which spoke of the Devouring Heaven Sparrow, a primordial demonic bird capable of swallowing billions of lives, storing their essence within itself. Though he lacked its unique glyphs, he had gleaned insights on storing energy.
With a hum, his body lit up, miniature divine furnaces forming in his flesh, absorbing the essence.
“Willow God said the thicker the foundation, the greater the achievement. I’m just preparing early,” he muttered, drinking more egg liquid, oblivious to the danger.
“Eek!” Furball, still sensing the threat, reached for the egg, unwilling to stop eating.
The massive, radiant egg—half its contents now in Little Rascal—didn’t bloat his belly. Instead, his body absorbed the essence, storing it in glowing symbols.
Finally full, he belched—the egg’s energy was overwhelming. Furball snatched it back and drank greedily, glancing nervously as the peacock spotted them and charged.
“Little White, charge ahead!” Little Rascal yelled.
They raced up a towering mountain, where a roaring black river stretched over ten miles wide, its frigid waters devoid of life.
The ancient remnant dove, murderous intent palpable. Its recent feast of millions still clung to its aura.
“Jump, Little White!”
The unicorn hesitated—the river was no safer—but leaped. Little Rascal poured the remaining egg liquid into its mouth before they plunged into the icy depths.
The water was soul-numbingly cold, nearly freezing their blood. Even Furball flailed in agony.
Above, the peacock hesitated at the river’s edge, shrieking in fury before demolishing the mountain with its wings.
Underwater, the unicorn struggled, saved only by the egg’s energy. They drifted downstream, enduring the pain to escape.
Hours later, they surfaced. Little Rascal spat ice, Furball shivering on his head. The unicorn, nearly frozen, collapsed onshore, instantly frosting the grass.
“Furball, you troublemaker! Give it a drop of blood to heal it!”
Grudgingly, Furball squeezed out a golden drop, reviving the unicorn.
By the riverbank, the group stared at the ruined mountain. The old woman held a fragment of eggshell—gnawed by Furball.
“What creature dared eat the egg of an ancient divine bird’s descendant? Such waste!” a young man fumed.
“The thief jumped into the Nether River. Will they survive?” another sighed.
The river was infamous—legend spoke of ten lunar stars, nine shattered in an ancient war, one refined and fallen here, turning it into a deathly expanse.
Days later, Little Rascal, now a bloodied wild child, trudged through the wilderness. The unicorn, recovering slowly, had grown stronger from the egg’s essence and Furball’s blood.
“Eek!” Furball suddenly dulled its golden fur, feigning stupidity.
Little Rascal tensed—they were surrounded.
The white-robed woman at the forefront was stunning, her crystal-clear eyes locking onto him.
“Little brother, are you alone?” she asked, her smile radiant.
“Big sister, I’m with my grandpa,” he replied shyly, his grimy face and tattered clothes belying his innocent eyes.
The group nodded—no child could survive these wilds alone. Someone must be nearby.
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