How high is the sky, how vast is the earth? In his youth, Shi Hao often dreamed of one day roaming freely across mountains and rivers. Now he has achieved it, yet he realizes the world’s immensity, the boundless heavens, far beyond his imagination. He still gazes upward at the cosmos. Above this world lies the Upper Realm—what kind of place is that? A dwelling of gods? Shi Hao asked the Little Pagoda, but received only silence. He turned to the Willow God, only to see a shake of the head. Why such reactions? He could clearly sense a reluctance in them. What’s wrong with the Desolate Wasteland? Why does mentioning the Upper Realm provoke such responses from the Little Pagoda and the Willow God?
“Hey, Little Pagoda, that spatial rift flickered a few times, and the light was blinding. Don’t you think divine materials might fall from the heavens? Should we go and suppress it?” Shi Hao said carelessly. The Little Pagoda ignored him, hanging from his hair, flickering as it sensed the aura of the heavens.
“Willow God, are you a sister, or should I call you uncle?” Shi Hao teased, staring at the hazy figure ahead. He couldn’t see clearly, and their conversation was conducted through divine sense, making it impossible to discern by voice. The Willow God didn’t answer, only instructing him to leave the bracer behind and depart immediately, wasting no more time. Simultaneously, she sent a message to Kong Qiu Ji, telling him to prepare as well.
“Leaving like this is so frustrating. They came all this way to deliver divine artifacts, and we got nothing. These heavenly beings are truly ungenerous,” Shi Hao grumbled, his mischievous nature resurfacing.
Of course, the most conflicted was Er Meng. He had hoped to repair the formation, show off a little, and visit Meng Lan, only to be told they had to leave.
“When will you emerge from seclusion, Meng Lan?” Kong Qiu Ji paced anxiously, torn between emotions. Once bald and barely able to take human form, he hadn’t wanted his former love to see him like this. But with the Willow God’s help, he had regained his former appearance and now longed for their reunion. Standing once more on the Celestial Deity Mountain after years apart, his heart was a tumult of emotions.
“Whoosh!” As if sensing his thoughts, a radiant light shot into the sky from the back mountain, shrouded in mist, swiftly spreading. A soft cry followed, like a phoenix singing to the heavens.
“Oh? Meng Lan has emerged from seclusion,” Yun Canghai exclaimed in surprise.
At the same time, elders from the other great clans showed astonishment. This woman had once been peerless in grace, captivating an entire generation. Even Jin Luan Tian, the formidable leader of the Golden Roc Clan, turned his gaze toward the back mountain, golden pupils gleaming with vitality, as if rejuvenated.
An elder from the Hound Clan even took human form, no longer displaying his true body. When others glanced his way, he merely chuckled shamelessly.
“Grandfather, why do you seem younger?” Hound Tian teased.
“Scram, brat! I just wanted to see an old friend. Don’t go blabbing nonsense when we get back,” the old Hound threatened.
“Relax. Just give me a gourd of divine wine, and I’ll forget everything when I see Grandmother,” Hound Tian grinned.
“You little rascal!” Hound Wang, the clan leader, glared.
“Wrong—little Hound rascal,” Hound Tian corrected.
A rainbow bridge unfurled, and a woman in fluttering robes stepped forward, staring blankly at Kong Qiu Ji.
“Go,” the Willow God said.
Kong Qiu Ji trembled. Had the Willow God helped him unseal the ancient cave in the back mountain, prompting Meng Lan’s emergence? He vaguely guessed the truth.
“You… came to see me?” the woman whispered, tears streaming down her face. She was beautiful, appearing in her thirties, with hair elegantly coiled, dignified and lovely. Today’s reunion filled her with shock, sorrow, and joy.
“Yes, I’ve returned,” Kong Qiu Ji said softly.
“I can’t stand seeing people cry. Shouldn’t reunions be happy? Why the tears?” Shi Hao muttered.
“What does a brat like you know? Get lost!” For once, Er Meng was assertive, smacking Shi Hao’s head before striding forward to take Yun Meng Lan’s hand.
“I waited for you all these years, believing you’d come back to me,” Yun Meng Lan wept, tears blurring her vision.
Once the mighty Peacock Sage, stirring storms across the land, now aged and powerless, he walked hand in hand with the woman into the distance.
Jin Luan Tian’s expression was complicated as he shook his head.
The Hound Clan’s elder sighed, scratching his head. “We’ve been ignored. In the end, that wretched peacock is as detestable as ever.”
Hearing what seemed like a sigh from the Little Pagoda, Shi Hao muttered in confusion. The pagoda showed no emotion but spoke solemnly.
“If one day, the stars shatter, the world collapses, and you alone remain—invincible yet left with only memories, watching loved ones turn to dust, friends buried by time—then you’ll understand this sorrow.”
“What nonsense are you spouting?” Shi Hao scratched his head.
“If you are extraordinary enough, such a day may come. The world vast, yet no familiar face remains—only the cold path of the divine,” the Little Pagoda said calmly. “If you remain mediocre, you’ll never taste such loneliness.”
“Rubbish!” Shi Hao retorted, flicking the pagoda boldly.
“Perhaps, in the distant future, one will stand alone upon the river of time, gazing back through eternity, companionless but for the divine path,” the Willow God mused.
“Ah! Willow God, don’t scare me like that!” Shi Hao jumped.
“It wasn’t about you. Why panic?” the Little Pagoda scoffed.
“If anyone could be that peerless, who else but me?” Shi Hao’s confidence and narcissism were inseparable, as always.
“Is there any way to prevent it?” Shi Hao asked nervously.
“There is,” the Willow God said softly, gazing skyward. “Above the heavens, there is another realm.”
“What?!” Shi Hao pressed, but neither the Willow God nor the Little Pagoda answered. Clearly, he was far from ready to comprehend such truths.
Left alone as the Willow God vanished again, Shi Hao waited for Er Meng’s return. Bored, he sauntered toward the clan elders, grinning innocently.
To Yun Canghai, he politely offered to return the divine artifacts. Yun Canghai, wary after learning from his granddaughter of the terrifying presence behind Shi Hao, dared not refuse.
Shi Hao feigned humility, apologizing before hesitantly mentioning his village’s crumbling formations and lack of materials.
“Simple! I’ll open our treasury and send some your way,” Yun Canghai waved magnanimously.
“Ordinary materials won’t do. Our village’s formations are forbidden-level—they need divine-grade materials,” Shi Hao sighed.
Yun Canghai nearly stumbled. This kid had the audacity to demand divine materials—precious even to their treasury!
“Divine materials are reserved for repairing the ancient teleportation array. We can’t spare much,” Yun Canghai hedged, fearing this was the hidden deity’s will.
“No need for much—just a bit of each. Our village is small,” Shi Hao said shamelessly.
Yun Canghai hesitated. If this truly was the deity’s wish, offending them was unthinkable. He consulted the other clans.
Predictably, they balked—especially the Golden Roc Clan, sneering as if ready to confront Shi Hao.
Cornered, Yun Canghai revealed the truth: a dormant deity of terrifying rank might be involved.
The clans gasped, some disbelieving, others resentful. Had they known earlier, the Golden Roc Clan wouldn’t have dared provoke Shi Hao.
Jin Hai’s face darkened. Half-Roc, half-Celestial, he’d always been arrogant. Losing to Er Meng now seemed suspicious—thinking back sent chills down his spine.
Shi Hao’s eyes gleamed as he watched them. Smirking, he sidled up.
“Honored elders, a secret: a great one wishes to borrow some divine materials.”
Their hearts clenched. So it was true! Exchanging glances, they reluctantly agreed.
As Shi Hao drooled, the Little Pagoda gulped audibly, restless in his hair.
“How many types do you need?” Yun Canghai asked.
“At least a dozen,” Shi Hao said, pointing to every clan’s offerings—effectively demanding a share of all.
The elders swayed, vision darkening. This was outright robbery!
“Ah, and some supplementary materials too. Divine ones alone won’t suffice—our formations are in dire shape,” Shi Hao added bashfully.
The elders fumed. This brat’s “shy” smile was downright shameless!
As the Little Pagoda swallowed hard, Shi Hao stuffed his Qiankun Bag greedily, nearly taking half the divine materials before the elders lunged to stop him.
Even then, he grinned sheepishly, scratching his head—yet decisively walked off with a sizable haul.
“Elder of the Roc Clan, my esteemed patron seeks to forge a Five Birds Fan but lacks a single Golden-Winged Roc’s Primordial Feather. Might you assist?” Shi Hao asked, feigning embarrassment.
Jin Luan Tian’s fingers twitched. He yearned to drag this smirking brat over, spank him eight ways to Sunday—but not kill him. Not yet.
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