“Have you ever heard of such a youth in our Desolate Wasteland? A mere fourteen or fifteen years old, yet he has opened nine heavenly passages, his combat prowess unrivaled!”
“Why has he remained unknown until now?” The spectators were astonished. How could such a ferocious youth, wielding such terrifying power, have gone unnoticed until now? His strength defied reason—he should have shaken the world long ago.
Everyone was skeptical. Where did he come from? Likely from the ancient Divine Mountains or some secluded, forbidden land. Otherwise, how could he have remained hidden?
“Perhaps he isn’t even from our Desolate Wasteland at all, but from another great domain!” Some made this judgment, recalling that similar events had occurred in the past. There had been prodigies nearing the pinnacle of their realms who crossed domains to battle and break through their limits. Some even sought supreme opportunities, hunting treasures like the Bronze Divine Book.
As the crowd speculated in shock, the battle on the field reached a fever pitch, growing increasingly intense, shaking heaven and earth.
Stars rolled across the sky as the human youth moved with terrifying might, palms pushing the sun and moon as if he were a divine king. His bronze body radiated explosive power, dazzling all who watched.
“How is this possible?” The onlookers trembled. What kind of majesty was this? To command the heavens and earth with such ease—it was soul-shaking!
**”Boom!”**
Little Rascal clashed head-on with him, his palm shattering a star as he charged forward, engaging in a fierce duel. Both fought with reckless abandon, locked in a bloody struggle amidst the ruins.
A dragon’s roar shook the heavens as the Flood Dragon coiled and struck, its body capable of snapping mountains in an instant. It swooped down, spewing terrifying runes of incandescent power, joining the brutal battle.
Little Rascal was drenched in blood. From birth until now, this was his most perilous battle—one misstep, and he would perish. Both enemies had opened nine heavenly passages, making them true adversaries.
And he was already grievously wounded. The situation was dire.
“Why can’t I break through?” Even the holy terror was growing anxious. If this continued, death was certain. He needed to focus, but his condition worsened by the moment.
No matter what he tried, the tenth heavenly passage refused to open. He had exhausted every method, even risking his life in a desperate surge of energy—only to nearly be slain by his foes.
Now he understood why even among ancient supreme beasts, few could open the tenth passage. It was incomparable to the first nine. No treasure could force it—this was a trial of one’s own will, seizing the world’s fortune to break through. There was no other way.
“Why won’t it work?” Little Rascal seethed. He could feel it—right there, just out of reach. If this continued, he might miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity entirely.
**”Open!”**
With a roar, he fought on, blood trickling from his lips as he poured everything into awakening the tenth passage.
**”Crack!”**
A palm struck his back, sending him flying. He crashed through boulders, landing in a bloody heap.
The Flood Dragon dove for the kill, eager to finish him and claim the divine book.
Little Rascal burned with fury. Never in his life had he been suppressed like this. Today, he had suffered repeated setbacks. His back was nearly split open, blood gushing out, draining his energy.
Yet he restrained himself. Instead of fighting to the death, he retreated, weaving through the battlefield.
“Take the risk—use their power to break through!”
The thought had lingered in his mind, but he had never dared act on it—until now. Cornered, he had no choice.
Golden whirlpools emerged around him, spinning slowly as they devoured the essence of heaven and earth. The sight was eerie.
As the battle raged, Little Rascal bided his time. Seizing the perfect moment, he roared—forcing the tenth passage open!
“Surrender the book, and you might live. Otherwise, even opening a passage won’t save you!” The Flood Dragon snarled, diving down.
In truth, it was nervous. Even supreme beasts from ancient Divine Mountains struggled to open the tenth passage. How could a human come so close? This anomaly unsettled it.
A massive claw descended, radiant as a sunburst, runes swirling.
This time, Little Rascal didn’t dodge. He grabbed the claw and yanked it close, activating the Golden Vortex Ripple Art to drain its divine energy.
At the same time, the wild youth struck, pushing stars as he descended like a divine king, slashing down.
**”Boom!”**
Little Rascal met him head-on, his other hand locking onto the youth’s wrist, golden runes flaring as he siphoned his power.
The Golden Vortex Ripple Art was a supreme technique of the Kun Peng, capable of dissolving attacks and refining energy—but only if the opponent wasn’t overwhelmingly stronger. Otherwise, the backlash would shatter his body.
“Seeking death!” Both the Flood Dragon and the wild youth sneered. They recognized the technique and flooded him with energy, intending to explode him from within.
**”Open!”**
Little Rascal roared, channeling their power into his own, merging it with his will to force the tenth passage.
Around him, nine passages blazed, connecting to the heavens. Magma surged, resonating with him as they aided the breakthrough.
A terrifying shockwave erupted, flattening the ruins. The distant spectators paled and retreated.
Rocks turned to dust, mountains split apart—the very void seemed to twist.
Little Rascal screamed in agony. His bones shattered, his soul fractured and reformed—an unprecedented torment.
The tenth passage flickered ominously, spraying auspicious light, shaking the world.
“He’s using his enemies’ power to open his passage!” The crowd gasped. This was madness—one misstep, and he’d be annihilated.
As expected, the wild youth and Flood Dragon intensified their assault, their energy surging chaotically into his body.
**”Agh—!”**
Little Rascal coughed blood, his body cracking apart.
**”Break through for me!”**
He roared, his spirit a blur of light as he guided their combined might toward the tenth passage.
Even now, he refused to yield. He would seize this chance to ascend—or die trying.
The tenth passage was terrifying, devouring energy from all directions. The power he siphoned was being absorbed.
**”No!”**
For the first time, the wild youth and Flood Dragon panicked. Their energy was being drained uncontrollably, fueling his breakthrough.
They struggled, but an invisible force held them in place, binding them to this fate.
**”What? He’s about to succeed?”**
“Stop him! We cannot allow him to seize heaven’s fortune!”
The Rain Clan’s sacred land was in ruins, its defenders slaughtered. But forces from the Tuoba Clan, Western Tomb Beast Mountain, and the Four Great Families surged forward.
Before they could reach him, an invisible force repelled them, blood spraying from their mouths. A mysterious barrier protected the area.
Though wracked with pain, Little Rascal felt exhilarated. With the trio’s combined power, he was on the verge of success!
Time passed. His body shone like a constellation of suns, radiant as a descending deity.
**”Rumble—”**
The very laws of the world seemed to resonate. Mystical runes encircled him as the passages released energy, nourishing the tenth.
The scene was serene, sacred—until—
**”Boom!”**
A deafening explosion. Little Rascal roared, mustering every last ounce of strength for the final push. Success meant becoming a ten-passage sovereign. Failure meant death.
The wild youth and Flood Dragon screamed as their energy was drained to the brink.
**”BANG!”**
The world blazed with light—the tenth passage was on the verge of manifesting!
Then—
Little Rascal convulsed, blood erupting from his mouth as he was sent flying. His body was a mess of wounds, on the verge of disintegration.
The tenth passage dimmed, fading back into the void.
He collapsed in the dirt, his body a shattered wreck. One more strike, and he’d be torn apart.
Gritting his teeth, he silently circulated the Primordial True Solution, healing his wounds. His face was expressionless.
This was a crushing defeat—unprecedented. He had been so close, only to fail at the last moment, nearly dying in the process.
Silent, enduring the agony, he focused on recovery.
Nearby, his two enemies also coughed blood, their injuries severe—but not as dire as his.
The battlefield was deathly silent. Everyone was stunned. He had almost succeeded—why had he failed?
“The tenth passage is truly beyond mortal reach. Even descendants of Taotie, Taowu, and True Hou rarely succeed. It is a legend for a reason.”
The crowd sighed. The tenth passage defied the heavens. No matter how talented, the final hurdle was despair and death.
**”Hahaha—!”**
Some laughed in relief—the Tuoba Clan, Western Tomb Beast Mountain, and others. They surged forward, intent on finishing him.
Little Rascal sprang up, fleeing without hesitation.
**”After him!”**
The great clans wouldn’t let this chance slip. The holy terror was on death’s door—now was the time to strike.
At the same time, the wild youth and Flood Dragon gave chase.
For once, Little Rascal was silent. He avoided certain directions—like where the purple-clad maiden stood. She was a calamity best avoided.
Relying on his instincts, he dodged one threat after another, vanishing into the primordial forests.
An unprecedented manhunt had begun. The entire realm was in chaos!
News spread like wildfire, even reaching the real world. Everyone was stunned.
First—the Rain Clan’s sacred land had been annihilated. Eighty percent of its defenders were dead, including three elders’ true bodies.
All at the hands of a single youth.
He had devoured their divine decree—an act so brazen it left the world speechless.
The scandal rocked the Stone Country, leaving the Rain Clan humiliated.
And then—the holy terror had nearly opened the tenth heavenly passage, only to fail at the last moment. This shook the world even more.
That day, the entire wilderness buzzed with the news.
In comparison, the Flood Dragon’s appearance and the wild youth’s emergence were overshadowed.
**”Hunt down the holy terror!”**
The order echoed across great clans—the Four Great Families, the Rain Clan, the Tuoba Ancient Lineage. Chaos erupted in the Void God Realm.
Every exit was sealed. Forces allied to find and kill him, ensuring he’d never leave alive.
They had prepared forbidden artifacts—precious, rare, but necessary. The holy terror’s survival was unacceptable.
A storm of blood and slaughter had begun. The entire realm trembled.
For days, Little Rascal fled without rest, enduring countless ambushes. He was drenched in blood, his body ravaged.
The worst came when he encountered the Flood Dragon and wild youth again. Each battle left him worse off.
The golden pathways were blockaded, guarded by countless experts. Escape was impossible.
Ten days passed. His wounds festered, his body barely holding together. Only sheer will kept him alive.
Finally, after another narrow escape, he hid in a mountain cave, desperately healing. Time was short—his enemies would find him soon.
All this time, he had pondered his failure. Why had the tenth passage eluded him?
That day, he had combined the power of three nine-passage experts—yet still failed. It was maddening.
After careful analysis, he concluded: even alone, undisturbed, the result would have been the same.
**”This fool is reckless beyond measure. Father said no one dares attempt the tenth passage in the Void God Realm alone—even ancient supreme beasts seek guardians!”**
Princess Huo Ling’er frowned.
Days passed. Little Rascal was still running, his body on the verge of collapse.
**”I refuse to accept this.”**
Even now, he refused to surrender. He still pondered the tenth passage.
**”Boom!”**
Another battle erupted. He fought desperately, drenched in crimson, barely escaping.
This time, he collapsed in the wilderness, his body fractured. A mere breeze could shatter him.
**”One last attempt. I will break through!”**
His stubbornness flared. The tenth passage still lingered, faint but present.
He emptied his mind, ignoring all threats. His body was broken, his energy nearly spent—this was his final gamble.
Time crawled. He persevered, a lone lamp guiding his will.
Finally—his last spark flickered out. His body was a hollow shell, devoid of energy. Death loomed.
**”Boom!”**
Then—
A surge of power erupted from his deepest reserves, a vast ocean of untapped potential.
His wounds healed rapidly as divine light pierced the heavens—the tenth passage was being forced open!
Auspicious mist billowed, as if a celestial realm had been unlocked.
He was on the brink of success. Barring disaster, he would achieve ten heavenly passages!
**”To emerge from death’s grasp—this is rebirth.”**
He finally understood. Ancient sovereigns had each forged their own path to the tenth passage. His was unique—born from utter annihilation.
**”I lost everything… thus, I transcend.”**
Divine light bathed him as the tenth passage expanded, nourishing his shattered body.
He was about to ascend!
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