This was a wondrous sensation—Little Rascal’s body felt light and agile, yet the slightest movement unleashed explosive power, as if he were about to take flight. The three “volcanic” cave heavens within him churned with surging spiritual essence, their “magma” cascading down into his body, filling him with boundless vitality and keeping him in peak condition.
A beast’s roar echoed through the mountains as a colossal creature emerged—over thirty meters long, its silver fur gleaming like satin. It bore a pair of qilin horns, eyes as large as basins, crimson as blood, and cold as it glared. Its form resembled a white tiger, yet it sported qilin horns and a spine lined with dozens of towering, crystalline bone spikes, each as long as a spear. This was a true savage beast, one that understood the mysteries of glyphs. It had claimed dominion over these mountains, slaughtering countless beasts to cement its rule. Disturbed by the commotion, it deemed its dignity violated and came to kill.
In the past, Little Rascal would have fled immediately. But now, he stood calmly atop a bluestone, his large eyes clear and unafraid as he watched the beast. The creature’s initial bloodlust surged, but after a brief standoff, it suddenly let out a furious roar and turned to flee, its claws smashing a massive boulder into dust. With a mighty leap, its body shimmered with radiant light, streaking across the mountains like a silver flood dragon. Enraged, it exhaled a beam of white light, flattening the forest before vanishing deep into the mountains.
In the distance, dark specks rapidly approached—several ferocious birds, their bodies alight with glowing glyphs, exuding a terrifying pressure that sent shivers through the beasts below. Their murderous intent was palpable, ready to dive at any moment. Little Rascal raised his head, his eyes shooting forth two dazzling beams as glyphs manifested within them. The birds shrieked, flapped their wings, and soared into the clouds, lingering only briefly before fleeing to the horizon.
The mightiest predators in the nearby mountains dared not challenge him, all retreating in fear. Without even striking a blow, Shi Hao had intimidated the most fearsome rulers of the wilds. He sat cross-legged, immersing himself in the profound sensation of the cave heaven realm, his body enveloped in swirling mist and radiant “magma.”
After a full day and night, he finally rose with the dawn, breathing in the morning light, his three volcanic cave heavens now fully stabilized and withdrawn. He strode confidently back toward Stone Village.
“Wow! Little Rascal is back—and he’s hunted a Jiao Leopard!” the children exclaimed in awe. The massive beast slung over his shoulder was over ten meters long, with the body of a leopard and the terrifying head of a flood dragon, its ferocity lingering even in death.
“Child, have you broken through?” the village chief asked excitedly.
“Mm!” Shi Hao nodded, his eyes pure and bright. His small frame glowed in the morning light, a stark contrast to his newfound power. Many spent their entire lives unable to reach the cave heaven realm, yet this child had achieved it in mere years—a feat that would astonish even the harshest critics.
“Little Rascal, can you really defeat those bandits?” the children asked, their fists clenched with hope.
“I’ll do my best. Don’t be afraid of them!” Shi Hao’s eyes crackled with lightning.
Two days later, the thunder of hooves shook the earth as a group of armored riders approached, their mounts monstrous and savage. Though only a few dozen strong, their murderous aura was overwhelming.
“Savages, are you prepared?” a black-armored leader sneered, pointing his iron whip at the villagers.
No one answered, their gazes fixed on him.
“Have you gone mute? If you don’t have the black gold now, there’s no need to wait two more days!” he snarled.
Another leader’s eyes turned icy. “Hmph, many are missing. Did they flee? Without our permission, they dare escape? Fools!”
The bandits grinned cruelly, their massive war hounds—standing three meters tall with dagger-like fangs—snarling beside them.
“Once we drag them back, they’ll learn what true suffering is,” one leader spat.
But then, their eyes gleamed as they spotted the village’s unicorns.
“Silver-maned unicorns—rare and swift! Perfect mounts!”
“Make the children bring them to us, or we’ll slaughter this village now!” the leader barked, lashing his whip toward the villagers’ faces.
But this time, Little Rascal stepped forward, catching the whip mid-air.
The leader’s eyes widened in shock. With a flick of his wrist, he tried to channel glyphs through the whip, but they dissipated upon contact with the boy’s hand.
“You little brat!” He kicked viciously at Shi Hao’s face.
But Shi Hao was faster. He seized the man’s ankle, yanked him from his mount, and slammed him into the ground.
The bandit howled as his face smashed into the dirt, blood gushing from his mouth.
Before the others could react, Shi Hao swung him again, crushing him against a boulder. Bones shattered as the leader collapsed like a broken doll.
The villagers, no longer passive, surged forward, stomping the fallen tyrant into the dirt.
“Kill them all!” another leader roared.
But Shi Hao moved like lightning. With a single palm strike, glyphs flared, sending the charging bandits flying, their bones shattered.
The remaining leader unleashed a torrent of flames—his signature technique, used to burn villages to the ground. But Shi Hao extinguished it with a wave of his hand before blasting the man away, his body broken.
“Where’s your arrogance now?” the villagers taunted, beating the fallen bandits bloody.
Shi Hao knew the true threat was yet to come—the bandits’ sacred guardian. But for now, this small victory belonged to Stone Village.
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