This was a season of harvest and a fulfilling time. Little Rascal practiced cultivation daily, brimming with vigor and joy. In his leisure, he visited his fellow disciples, sharing grand feasts and sneaking a few jars of aged wine from the elders with the help of his mischievous companion, reveling in merriment. These were happy days—ones he would never forget, no matter how many years passed. Even decades later, when many were long gone from this world, their voices and smiles remained vivid in his memory.
“Brothers, you lost again—drink up!”
It was a night filled with laughter. The group swayed drunkenly, even some senior sisters flushed and tipsy, their beauty outshining flowers. From afar, Elder Xiong Fei’s furious roar echoed: “Damn it! Who stole my medicinal wine again? Just wait till I catch you!” Mixed in were the curses of Elder Zhuo Yun, who had suffered worse—his entire cellar of aged wine had been plundered, leaving only a few jars behind. The young disciples burst into laughter, their cheeks rosy with delight.
“Ah, it’s time to part. Who knows when we’ll meet again? Take care, junior brothers and sisters.”
“Brothers and sisters, you take care too!”
This wasn’t the first farewell. Over the past month, many of the Sky-Replenishing Pavilion’s key disciples had vanished, sent to distant lands. Though they drowned their sorrows in wine, melancholy lingered. After all, they had spent years together here.
“Sooner or later, we’ll return!”
Another group of senior brothers and sisters departed, leaving the familiar halls for an unknown land, fleeing an impending calamity. Little Rascal had bid farewell to many. The Genius Camp was half-empty, and the disciples of the old monsters had all but disappeared, leaving only a handful behind.
“Junior brother, when will you leave?”
“I’m still cultivating thunder techniques. I’ll depart once I’ve made progress,” Little Rascal replied. He hoped Qing Feng would leave sooner, but the latter refused, insisting on waiting for him.
Then, he began another breakthrough attempt.
**BOOM!**
Thunder roared. Lightning crisscrossed the sacred mountain like cascading waterfalls, piercing his protective runes and striking his body. Blood trickled from his lips as he was sent flying, crashing down the cliff. Even his formidable physique couldn’t withstand the impact—his bones felt shattered as he left a human-shaped crater in the ground.
“Elder, take it easy!” he groaned through gritted teeth.
“To master the laws of thunder, you must experience it with your body. Without enduring tribulation, how can you grasp its true essence?” Thunder Ancestor Mu Yan, his beard like steel needles, showed no mercy. Lightning erupted from his palm, sending Little Rascal flying again. The ground shattered, reducing boulders weighing tens of thousands of pounds to dust.
Little Rascal wailed. This was hellish training. Previously, he had only meditated on thunder runes—now, he was truly suffering.
“I’ll focus!” he insisted, summoning golden runes as a lion-dragon materialized and roared toward the elder.
“You’ve improved, but not enough. You haven’t reached your limit!” Thunder Ancestor Mu Yan unleashed a river of lightning, obliterating the lion-dragon and flattening the surrounding forest.
“Thunder embodies destruction, the pinnacle of offensive techniques. But it also harbors life, nurturing rebirth. You’ve only grasped its destructive aspect,” Mu Yan said, bathed in lightning, his aura intensifying.
“Of course I only sense destruction—I’m the one being blasted!” Little Rascal howled, retaliating with golden lightning from his arms. But the gap in strength was vast. Thunder Ancestor was a supreme expert of the Sky-Replenishing Pavilion, while he was just a child.
**CRACK!**
Another bolt sent him flying, his body smoking, hair standing on end, and the scent of roasted meat wafting from him.
“Smells delicious,” Er Meng gloated from afar, licking his lips.
“Truly tempting,” the Crimson Bird agreed, their opinions aligning for once.
**BOOM!**
Little Rascal shot through the air like a golden thunder god, unleashing eighteen bolts that struck the two birds.
“YOWCH!” They shrieked, feathers charred, bodies convulsing.
“Damn, that hurts!” Even the Divine Stone, though unharmed, rolled around dramatically, provoking the birds to bite it in frustration.
Meanwhile, Little Rascal screamed again—this was the worst beating of his life, worse than even the Ghost Elder’s punishments. Lightning ravaged his body, leaving him charred and reeking of cooked flesh.
This was purgatory. Never had he longed so desperately to end his training.
“You’re talented but lack defeat. That’s a flaw,” Thunder Ancestor remarked.
Little Rascal was speechless. Finally, he yelled, “I came to learn thunder techniques, not to lose! I’ll remain undefeated forever!”
“Good. That’s the spirit of a true powerhouse. Now, take this!”
**BOOM!**
Dozens of lightning strikes hammered him into the ground. Little Rascal shrieked, electricity spewing from his mouth. The agony was unbearable—he felt shattered.
From dawn till dusk, Thunder Ancestor pummeled him before finally releasing him with orders to study ancient scriptures in the Scripture Pavilion.
Charred, hair standing on end, only his bright eyes remained recognizable.
The Crimson Bird and Er Meng greeted him mockingly, only to be blasted away by his furious glare.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the legendary, invincible Holy Terror,” Huo Ling’er teased, her graceful figure approaching. She had heard of his ordeal and came to gloat.
“Don’t provoke me!” Little Rascal spat black smoke, wobbling unsteadily.
“Hahaha! This is delightful. Got roasted, huh? Serves you right for all those roasted ancient beasts you devoured!” Huo Ling’er laughed, her snow-white skin, black hair, and alluring curves accentuated by her mirth.
“Big Fatty!” Little Rascal glared.
Her laughter died instantly. Those words enraged her. “Everyone, attack! Let’s teach him a lesson!”
She had prepared, rallying a group of sisters to gang up on him while he was injured. Runes and radiant light engulfed him as the girls giggled, aiding Huo Ling’er’s revenge.
The Crimson Bird and Er Meng fled shamelessly, abandoning him.
**ROAR!**
A mighty lion-dragon erupted, shattering the runes and unleashing lightning that sent the girls sprawling.
Huo Ling’er tried to escape, but Little Rascal caught her, flipping her over and plundering her belongings.
By the time he left, she was shrieking in fury.
“Sister, you might want to change your dress,” a senior sister whispered, eyes twinkling.
Huo Ling’er turned and gasped. Her pristine white dress now bore a row of tiny black handprints on her backside.
“Damn you, Holy Terror!” she screeched, humiliated.
“Big Fatty, you’re no match for me,” Little Rascal muttered, limping toward the Scripture Pavilion.
Despite his pain, he obeyed Thunder Ancestor’s orders. The pavilion was nearly empty—most texts had been relocated.
“Read quickly. You’ve almost finished what’s left,” Elder Liu said kindly.
“Thank you, Elder.” Little Rascal was touched.
“Don’t thank me. I merely prioritized the texts you hadn’t read. The supreme techniques were taken first, but thunder arts suit you best anyway.”
Grimacing, Little Rascal stood to read, unable to sit.
“What happened to you?” Elder Liu chuckled.
“I’ve never been beaten so badly in my life,” Little Rascal grumbled, his face blackened.
Elder Liu laughed. “He’s guiding you to sense the life within thunder, not just its destruction. Trust me, Mu Yan’s harsh methods will bring you great benefits.”
For the next month, Little Rascal’s daily screams drew crowds. Watching the Holy Terror get pummeled became a spectacle more thrilling than admiring beauties.
Frustrated, Little Rascal swore that if he ever surpassed Thunder Ancestor, he’d bite him twice.
Yet, his comprehension of lightning advanced rapidly. He even faintly sensed the elusive life essence within thunder.
“You’ve touched upon that vitality?” Thunder Ancestor was stunned.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Little Rascal frowned.
Elder Liu rushed over, trembling. “A miracle! To grasp the life within thunder at your age—this is heaven-defying talent!”
“I just wanted to survive the lightning,” Little Rascal muttered.
“The Pavilion’s legacy may yet be restored!” Elder Liu exclaimed, patting his head.
Thunder Ancestor flushed.
Little Rascal’s eyes widened. “Wait—you haven’t even sensed it yourself, yet you’ve been blasting me to experience it?!”
Enraged, he nearly revolted—until another lightning strike silenced him.
“You’re gifted. Cherish it. Few ever perceive the life within thunder’s destruction. This seed will make you a thunder sovereign!” Elder Liu said.
“In a few days, during a storm, I’ll take you to seize Thunder Tribulation Nectar—a divine elixir of creation,” Thunder Ancestor declared.
Elder Liu grew solemn. Obtaining the nectar was perilous—it could cost Mu Yan his life.
“Remember his kindness,” Elder Liu whispered.
Little Rascal nodded, understanding the gravity.
This was a sacrifice—one Thunder Ancestor was willing to make for his sake.
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