“Kill him! Damn it…” Among the young kings of the foreign realm, some creatures couldn’t help but roar, their blood boiling with fury at Shi Hao’s words, their hair standing on end in rage.
Never had they suffered such humiliation. Their world had always stood above all others, its cultivators dominating the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths. Since ancient times, every war they waged had ended in overwhelming victory. Yet now, a mere youth dared to insult them so brazenly.
Their fellow young kings, who usually stood aloof and revered, had today become ingredients for a single man’s feast—publicly steamed and cooked!
The most unforgivable part was that he had even named the so-called dish “Earth’s Three Delicacies.”
The sheer mockery of those three words left the kings livid, their lungs nearly bursting with rage. Never had they felt such disgrace. As young kings of the foreign realm, those three had been lumped together under such a crude, laughable name—destined to become a joke.
Worse still, the mockery of “Earth’s Three Delicacies” would spread far and wide, echoing across the realms. The infamy would reach every clan, perhaps even be recorded in history as an amusing anecdote.
One side seethed with fury, while the other laughed heartily.
Since the war began, the cultivators of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths had never felt such exhilaration. Watching Shi Hao devour “Earth’s Three Delicacies,” their faces glowed with satisfaction.
“You won’t live long! Enjoy your moment—death is coming for you!” On the foreign side, the Serpent Yaksha and others hissed venomously, cursing him.
The battlefield was vast. Shi Hao stood there, one hand cradling a wine jar, the other holding a golden, crispy piece of meat. He drank deeply and feasted heartily.
He didn’t bother retorting—he had already said all the harsh words he needed to.
Now, he was calm, merely praising the tender, exquisite flavor of the meat—something he had never tasted before, a delicacy beyond compare.
One side raged and cursed, vowing to slaughter him on the battlefield.
Yet Shi Hao remained unshaken, only occasionally flashing a sharp gaze like a bolt of lightning in the dark, piercing straight into their souls.
“The white lion, infused with the true blood of the Anlan Clan, truly has an extraordinary flavor—a unique fragrance,” Shi Hao remarked.
At these words, the foreign cultivators fell silent, torn between shock, fury, and fear. How bold was this youth, to dare provoke the Anlan Clan so openly?
They thought he should be grateful that no true descendants of the Anlan Clan were present—otherwise, unspeakable horrors would unfold.
After their initial terror, the young kings grew even angrier. The Anlan Clan was revered, standing above all, their invincible guardian ancestors. How could a mere cultivator dare defile them?
Some creatures hurled insults, but Shi Hao acted as if he hadn’t heard them. Instead, he mused, “Zhan Feng was a white lion. What do the Anlan Clan truly look like? Don’t tell me they’re just another ingredient for ‘Earth’s Three Delicacies.'”
Many faces twitched in outrage. Such words were beyond audacious—no one could insult the Anlan Clan and live.
“Hmm, the Mantis Centipede isn’t bad either. Peel away the hard shell, and the meat inside is tender and delicious—far superior to the divine shrimp of the Dragon Palace,” Shi Hao commented again.
The Mantis Centipede Clan roared in fury. They were no mere centipedes but a supreme royal lineage, towering above all races.
Shi Hao drank deeply and savored the feast, murmuring to himself, “This is my first taste of foreign delicacies—unforgettable. What a delight!”
Just then, the Immortal Tortoise Shell finally stirred, emitting a blinding light. One of its fragments landed beside a young king of the foreign realm.
The time had come—the shell had chosen Shi Hao’s next opponent.
It was a crimson creature, blazing with scarlet radiance, each step melting the earth beneath it into molten lava. It burned like red-hot iron.
“Flame Rock King!” someone whispered.
This was an exceptionally powerful young king, different from the others—its body seemed forged from magma, lacking true flesh and blood.
Legend said this race was born in seas of lava, innately controlling fire, harnessing the essence of the sun, and wielding the power of flame veins.
Shi Hao glanced at it and sighed. “Has the foreign realm run out of warriors, sending such a monstrosity?”
At the edge of the Dark Abyss, the creatures of the other shore glared in fury. His arrogance knew no bounds—dismissing his opponent before even fighting.
The cultivators of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths felt a sliver of vindication. Earlier, the Serpent Yaksha and the Golden Demon Bird had sneered at them, looking down on their world.
Now, the tables had turned. Riding the momentum of three consecutive victories, Shi Hao belittled the foreign kings, reversing the dynamic.
And there was little they could do to retaliate.
“You go too far, belittling our royal lineage! You will be blood sacrificed!” a foreign creature shouted.
Shi Hao waved a hand. “You misunderstand. I don’t doubt his strength—it’s just that his body is all fiery rock, no meat. How am I supposed to eat him? I was hoping to gather four ingredients for ‘Four Happiness Meatballs!'”
His calm tone and words made the foreign kings’ noses twist in fury, itching to crush him on the spot.
His “explanation” was nothing but sheer mockery—already treating his opponent as a dish.
“Die!”
The Flame Rock King roared, lunging forward. Its form shifted from humanoid to a crimson tiger, claws slashing to tear Shi Hao apart.
**Boom!**
The earth shattered, magma surging skyward in terrifying scarlet waves.
**Crack!**
Even the void burned and collapsed, molten liquid devouring everything.
Shi Hao was surprised. This creature had some skill, wielding fire with terrifying precision and heat.
Yet he remained unshaken. Expanding his sole divine aperture, he stood untouched, divine light forming an impervious halo around him.
**Bang!**
Shi Hao accelerated, charging at the Flame Rock King. A single palm strike sent the crimson tiger reeling with a deafening roar.
Suddenly, the tiger vanished, merging with the molten lava in the sky, disappearing without a trace.
“Annihilate!” Shi Hao bellowed, unleashing his full divine might to suppress the scarlet sea of magma.
But the earth had already melted into a vast lava ocean, flames licking the heavens in terrifying waves.
It was like a crimson tide, scorching and all-consuming.
Everyone paled—even Shi Hao was taken aback. He had underestimated this creature.
**Boom!**
Shi Hao’s fists struck the magma sea with overwhelming force, stirring monstrous waves. A muffled groan echoed from within.
“Still hiding?” Shi Hao sneered, fingers splayed as thunderbolts rained down, boiling the magma sea until it nearly dried up.
**Sizzle!**
Suddenly, a beam of solar essence shot from the sun above, summoned by the Flame Rock King to incinerate all.
But Shi Hao was no ordinary foe. Activating the Kun Peng Treasure Art, his wings blotted out the sky, dispersing the solar energy.
The battle didn’t last long, but it left Shi Hao shaken. This seemingly unremarkable Flame Rock King was far stronger than expected.
**Splat!**
In the end, the Flame Rock King was no match. Forced out of the magma, its body shattered—revealing not just fiery rock, but gleaming flesh.
This creature was not just magma and divine stone—it had begun developing true flesh.
“Now I have the fourth ingredient,” Shi Hao remarked.
The foreign realm’s eyes burned with fury. The flesh of the Flame Rock Clan, born from rock, was a rare, priceless tonic—surpassing even divine medicines.
Many creatures growled in frustration. Four consecutive defeats at the hands of one man was unacceptable.
Some glared at Shi Hao with dark, murderous intent.
Shi Hao met their gaze and shouted, “Serpent Yaksha! Golden Demon Bird! You know I want you dead most of all. Dare to face me? I’ll let you fight me together!”
The crowd erupted. After four victories, Shi Hao was openly challenging them—this was monumental.
The Serpent Yaksha and Golden Demon Bird stiffened. Refusing now would be admitting defeat—how could they ever hold their heads high again?
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