The holy terror let out a wild shout, and a crowd responded with overwhelming momentum. The genius camp members all followed behind him, charging toward the residence of the Zhulu Academy. More than half of them had already guessed Little Rascal’s identity and knew just how ferocious he was. Even though their senior brothers and sisters hadn’t returned yet, they fearlessly marched into battle. Whether in the Void God Realm or the Hundred Shattered Mountains, his infamy was widespread—cursed relentlessly by powerful foes, yet he remained lively and unscathed.
“They’re staying at the Five Spirit Cliff, a treasure land brimming with dense spiritual energy. Our Sky Mending Pavilion has treated them with courtesy, yet they show no respect in return,” someone remarked as they led the way toward a misty, purple-hued spiritual land. There, a pristine lake shimmered, ancient stone cliffs stood tall, and auspicious birds nested among fragrant medicinal herbs. A herd of silver spiritual deer dashed by, their bodies wreathed in radiant light, their antlers gleaming with dazzling silver brilliance.
Little Rascal immediately halted, wiping his drool. “Deer antler velvet! A supreme tonic! These are rare spiritual deer—so plump!” The group stopped as well, their faces darkening with exasperation. Weren’t they here to vent their anger? Why was he eyeing those silver spirit beasts now?
“Junior brother, we can’t touch these! The elders use them for alchemy,” someone whispered in warning.
“Who said I was going to eat them? Do I look like that kind of person? Would I do such a thing?” Little Rascal declared righteously, his face full of dignity—though the drool-wiping ruined the effect. The group snickered, exchanging knowing glances.
“Let’s go! Time to settle the score!” Little Rascal brushed off the awkwardness and charged forward again.
This was undoubtedly a treasured land, one where ordinary people couldn’t reside. The Sky Mending Pavilion had granted the Zhulu Academy ample courtesy, even arranging accommodations for their visiting disciples here. The group, seething with indignation, roared as they stormed the area.
“Zhulu Academy, come out!”
Ahead lay a cluster of grand halls, delicate bridges over flowing streams, and an exquisite garden. The lake emitted spiritual energy, painting a breathtakingly beautiful scene.
“How noisy. Just a bunch of worthless trash—what face do you have to shout after being defeated?” A cold, mocking voice rang out, belonging to a young man. The genius camp members gritted their teeth, fists clenched.
“Have you called your senior brothers and sisters? Bring them all at once!”
From the garden, a haughty youth appeared, riding atop a fierce beast. The ground trembled slightly as the massive creature, over four meters long, strode forward. It resembled a lion but was covered in azure scales, its maw filled with sharp fangs. Most striking were the antlers on its head, shimmering with green-gold divine light and swirling with runes.
This was a juvenile ancient descendant—a terrifyingly powerful one at that!
Gasps filled the air. For such a beast to be his mount, this youth from the Zhulu Academy must have an extraordinary background.
“That’s a Golden-Eyed Dragonhorn Lion!” someone recognized.
Just the mount alone was beyond what most could handle—let alone the rider. The beast’s eyes blazed like twin lanterns, its golden pupils radiating a mix of runes and ferocity, making it impossible to meet its gaze.
“Come at me all at once. I won’t even move—my mount alone will trample you,” the youth sneered, looking down on them all.
The group seethed with anger. Such arrogance!
The youth, about fourteen or fifteen, stood tall in his purple robes, his frame robust and his eyes sharp. He glanced at the injured genius camp members, his lips curling in disdain. Yesterday’s battle had left many severely wounded, and his confidence was unshaken.
“You’re too arrogant! I’ll fight you!” Wu Feng stepped forward, having returned from the old monsters’ training. He was here to avenge his juniors.
“I said—come at me together. If you can defeat my lion, that’s enough,” the youth replied lazily, patting the beast’s back. “Trample them!”
With a deafening roar, the Golden-Eyed Dragonhorn Lion charged. The ground quaked as the massive creature surged forward, its scales gleaming, its eyes shooting golden beams of light.
The group paled. Facing this ancient descendant was worse than fighting the youth himself—the beast was far more terrifying.
Only Little Rascal remained unfazed. He strode forward, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Looks delicious!”
“What did you say?!” The youth’s face darkened with killing intent as he urged his mount to crush Little Rascal.
The lion unleashed a devastating roar, sending debris flying and leaves scattering—a true lion’s roar, stirring a tempestuous gale.
Yet, against this ferocious beast, Little Rascal’s response left everyone dumbfounded. He roared back, his voice rolling like thunder, shattering rocks and snapping trees—completely overpowering the lion’s cry.
The crowd gaped. Who was the ancient descendant here? How did his roar surpass the lion’s?
Enraged, the Golden-Eyed Dragonhorn Lion charged, intent on trampling the boy.
Little Rascal didn’t flinch. He dashed forward, cracking the earth beneath his feet as he collided head-on with the beast.
Many in the genius camp knew his reputation but had never seen him in action. Now, they held their breaths—this was a true ancient descendant, even if juvenile. Its physical prowess was monstrous.
**BOOM!**
The impact sent shockwaves through the crowd. Little Rascal kept running forward—while the massive beast was sent flying, blood spewing from its mouth. The rider tumbled off, landing in a heap.
“Definitely delicious!” Little Rascal cheered, chasing after the beast as if nothing had happened.
With a thunderous punch, he struck the lion’s body, causing its scales to crack and bones to shatter. Blood gushed out.
The ancient descendant roared in fury and fear, its eyes firing golden beams while its antlers glowed with dense runes, attempting to suppress Little Rascal.
But it was futile. With a swipe of his hand, Little Rascal shattered the golden beams. A single roar dispersed the runes like mist.
His brutality was terrifying—like a true ancient dragon, obliterating everything in his path.
He leaped onto the beast’s head, aiming to seize its primordial bone.
The Golden-Eyed Dragonhorn Lion panicked, unleashing all its techniques in a desperate attempt to incinerate him.
Then—a divine screech echoed. A golden-winged roc descended, its wings slicing through the beast’s attacks before cleaving the ancient descendant in half.
The crowd was stunned. How ruthless was this child? A mighty ancient descendant—slaughtered in mere moments!
The sheer gap in power sent chills down their spines.
“His opponents are no longer of our generation,” someone murmured.
A crisp crack sounded as the lion’s antlers snapped off, spilling precious blood.
“Qingfeng, come here! Deer antler blood!” Little Rascal beckoned.
Qingfeng hesitated, awestruck. His little brother was too overpowering—how had he slain that beast so effortlessly?
Obediently, he ran over, collecting the blood in a jade vial. This was far superior to the silver deer antlers they’d seen earlier.
“Drink it while it’s warm—test its potency,” Little Rascal urged, giving it all to Qingfeng.
“Everyone, help out! Let’s feast on lion meat—ancient descendant flesh is a treasure!” he called.
The purple-robed youth, Tuoba Chuan, howled in fury. He was already domineering, but this brat was even worse—daring to eat his mount right in front of him!
“YOU—!”
Tuoba Chuan lunged, golden runes swirling around him as a golden roc took form, swooping down.
Little Rascal turned, studying the roc technique carefully before striking at the last moment. His fist, wreathed in radiant bone runes, smashed into the bird.
**BOOM!**
The golden roc exploded into shimmering light.
Tuoba Chuan’s face drained of color. Such power—to shatter a technique bare-handed! His pupils shrank in realization.
“You—you’re that… savage holy terror!”
“Your eyes are terrible,” Little Rascal scoffed. “And *you’re* the holy terror! Your whole family is!”
He charged.
Tuoba Chuan hastily erected eighteen layers of defensive light, using all his treasures. Against the legendary menace, he could only defend.
But the gap was insurmountable.
Little Rascal, who had opened nine heavenly passages—a feat only recorded in ancient texts—was beyond his league.
The barriers shattered one after another. Little Rascal grabbed him by the collar, shaking him violently until treasures, elixirs, and bone scriptures spilled out.
“Qingfeng, more gifts for you!”
With a sickening crack, he broke Tuoba Chuan’s arm and tossed him to the genius camp.
**THUD!**
The group didn’t hold back—kicking and punching him relentlessly. They wouldn’t kill him, but they showed no mercy. Yesterday, he had broken bones without remorse, crossing the line of mere sparring.
Meanwhile, Little Rascal, Qingfeng, and the silver-robed Xiao Tian began preparing the ancient descendant—skinning, cleaning, and roasting it over a fire.
By the time the others finished venting, the aroma of roasted lion meat filled the air. The Golden-Eyed Dragonhorn Lion was now golden-brown and glistening.
The crowd stared, dumbfounded. They were really going to eat an ancient descendant?
“Junior brother… are we seriously eating this here?” someone gulped, torn between hunger and shock.
“This is nothing. In the Hundred Shattered Mountains, I ate several in one sitting! Don’t be shy—dig in!” Little Rascal grinned.
In the distance, Tuoba Chuan, bruised and broken, fainted from sheer rage.
The group gathered around, soon indulging in the feast. For these usually disciplined youths, the thrill of rebellion made the meal even more satisfying.
“What is going on here?”
A melodious voice rang out. A woman in white stood before them, her black hair and eyes accentuating her ethereal beauty. She resembled a lotus emerging from water, her skin flawless, her eyes like stars.
“Ah! Senior Sister Youyu!” The geniuses hastily swallowed their last bites.
Little Rascal recognized her—the woman he’d met years ago in the western border of the Stone Country. She had once given him a talisman, which he later passed to Qingfeng.
Beside Xia Youyu stood another woman, clad in golden battle armor. Tall and curvaceous, her regal bearing was undeniable despite the armor.
This was the Zhulu Academy’s War Goddess.
The two stood side by side—one a celestial beauty in white, the other a radiant warrior in gold—both breathtaking.
Behind them, a group of Zhulu Academy disciples gaped at the scene.
“Is… is that roasted beast Brother Tuoba’s mount?”
“I think so…”
They were utterly speechless.
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