The golden bone fragment shimmered with flowing radiance, its inscribed runes blazing brilliantly. Unlike densely packed tiny characters, this was a single, dazzling symbol, resplendent and eye-catching. Little Rascal’s heart trembled—this was a primordial treasure bone. For some unknown reason, the runes had not withdrawn or vanished but remained exposed, waiting to be comprehended. Normally, the runes on a treasure bone would fade shortly after leaving its original body, merging with the bone to become a treasure artifact, making further comprehension nearly impossible.
This golden bone had been passed down from ancient times. Why had its intricate mysteries not disappeared, still imprinted upon it? It was exceedingly rare! Little Rascal was exhilarated, his large eyes narrowing into crescent moons as he nearly lunged forward. The allure of this rune-inscribed bone was irresistible—it would surely catalyze the evolution of his treasure spells, propelling him to new heights!
“Haste makes waste. Though your talent is rare, cultivating too swiftly requires further tempering,” the old vine said, withholding the golden bone.
Little Rascal grew frantic. A supreme sect treasure spell was right before him, almost within grasp, yet slipping away—this feeling was unbearable.
“First consolidate your foundation, then cultivate this treasure bone,” the Guardian Spirit advised, cautioning against impatience.
“But how much more consolidation is needed?” Little Rascal gazed longingly, his desire overwhelming.
“Mastering a treasure spell requires true integration—complete enlightenment, understanding why it possesses such power, grasping its primordial essence. You’ve done well, fusing two treasure spells, but luck played a part. You haven’t yet achieved true clarity.”
The Guardian Spirit guided him, urging him not to fixate on the spells themselves but to comprehend the true meaning of the runes, to explore their myriad transformations, to fully digest them. Many wield powerful treasure spells without understanding their mysteries, merely mimicking their execution.
This, the Guardian Spirit declared, was insufficient. To become a supreme powerhouse, one must start from the most primitive origins, understanding every minute detail of the treasure spell, mastering all its transformations. This meant retracing the spell’s creation, uncovering all its secrets—only then could one claim true enlightenment, enabling a mightier metamorphosis!
“I understand, Elder!” Little Rascal had always followed this path, though he hadn’t yet reached its end. He needed to re-examine, to comprehend thoroughly.
Thus, he embarked on a new journey of enlightenment, immersing himself entirely. For over half a month, he delved into the runes of the Roc Clan, deciphering their mysteries. During this time, he was either in the Scripture Pavilion or seated in the Guardian Spirit’s sacred land, nearly forgetting himself in his devotion.
To master the Roc Clan’s techniques, Little Rascal borrowed numerous bone scriptures from the Scripture Pavilion, neglecting sleep and food, pouring his spirit into them. The elder guarding the entrance nodded approvingly, this time selecting and bringing him a large stack of bone scriptures, all related to rocs.
Another half-month passed. Beyond studying Roc Clan runes, Little Rascal explored the techniques of other raptors, drawing parallels to deepen his understanding. Finally, he felt he had grasped everything—at the very least, he had deciphered all the runes he knew, even capable of evolving and creating similar ones.
This result left the gatekeeping elder dumbfounded, staring at him in disbelief. This child was truly a freak of nature, rare in this world!
After perusing all the Roc Clan’s bone scriptures, Little Rascal felt as if he had transformed into a divine roc. With a sweep of his arms, golden light swirled, his wings taking shape as if to soar into the heavens. Clearly, after full integration, this treasure spell had grown immensely powerful and terrifying, far surpassing its previous state, for he had incorporated countless runic scriptures.
Now, every detail and infinite variation were etched into his mind—he had fully digested all the records in these bone scriptures!
With a resonant hum, he entered a wondrous state of enlightenment within the Scripture Pavilion, placing a golden divine moon within a cave heaven, nurturing a demonic bird within. The volcanic crater spewed “magma,” the golden moon transforming into an egg, densely inscribed with azure runes—terrifying and mighty, bobbing within the crater, ready to be summoned at a thought.
This was the pinnacle of comprehending this treasure spell, nourished by the cave heaven—a truly astonishing feat! One cave heaven nurtured one rune, birthing one supreme treasure spell. When needed, its power would be so overwhelming it could sweep through all enemies.
As Little Rascal’s eyes opened and closed, a divine roc surged from his cave heaven, standing beside him, majestic and terrifying.
“If one day, all ten cave heavens open, each nurturing one supreme rune corresponding to the ten mightiest divine beasts of antiquity, how powerful would that be?” Little Rascal murmured beneath the gourd vine, filled with longing.
The Guardian Spirit was silent—such a feat was impossible.
“The ten mightiest primordial treasure spells—obtaining just one and fully comprehending it would suffice to dominate the world, making even gods tremble, invincible across heaven and earth!”
According to the Guardian Spirit, securing one supreme treasure spell was enough for a lifetime. Even if one opened ten cave heavens, the chance to contain the ten supreme spells of antiquity was nonexistent—no one could defy heaven’s will.
“Ah!” Little Rascal sighed. He was thinking too far ahead. The ten supreme beings of antiquity seemed extinct; forget ten, even one was nearly impossible to encounter.
His current task was to restore the Kunpeng treasure spell—one of the ten. Who knew how many years it would take to even approach this goal?
“Elder, I’ve truly integrated everything. I feel like a roc now, understanding every variation of the runes, fully enlightened.”
Little Rascal requested the golden bone. A month had passed, and with his astounding talent, he had indeed achieved full comprehension, nearly transforming into a humanoid divine roc.
“Very well,” the Guardian Spirit nodded, advising him to recite scriptures daily while studying the bone, as it would greatly benefit him.
“I know!” Little Rascal nodded. These days of reading countless scriptures and runes had left his body increasingly comfortable, warm, and vibrant. Without deliberate breakthroughs, his flesh seemed to evolve, his vitality strengthening, his runic mastery deepening.
Holding the golden treasure bone, he was overjoyed, turning it over repeatedly before immediately beginning his study.
Soon, he gasped in shock, exclaiming, “This isn’t a roc bone?!”
At last, he understood why the old vine had insisted he fully master roc techniques before studying this bone—it was entirely different. This was a Kunpeng bone!
At the first probe, he sensed a terrifying aura, as if witnessing a fish tens of thousands of miles long leaping from the sea, transforming into a roc, soaring ninety thousand miles into the sky—awe-inspiring and magnificent.
“Thus, this bone’s origins are extraordinary, rivaling even the supreme techniques of our sect,” the Guardian Spirit said.
“Is this a Kunpeng bone?” Little Rascal gripped the golden fragment tightly, overwhelmed—this was precisely his current pursuit.
“No, merely a descendant’s bone,” the Guardian Spirit shook its head.
Little Rascal relaxed. The ten supreme beings of antiquity would never leave behind treasure bones in a place like this. If they had, the sect would have been destroyed long ago—even the old vine couldn’t protect them, for gods and beings from the ancient divine mountains would surely come to claim them.
Even so, this bone was priceless!
Little Rascal was overjoyed—today’s harvest was immense. This was a bone from a supreme descendant, allowing him to cross-reference with the treasure spells he had comprehended.
“I must fully understand it, to recreate the Kunpeng technique!” he murmured.
Little Rascal had been back at the sect for three months, immersed in cultivation, while the old vine had “revived” for a month. During this time, many events had unfolded outside.
First, the wilderness was in upheaval, ancient kingdoms abuzz—the sect’s Guardian Spirit’s revival had shocked many, an unexpected outcome.
Second, undercurrents surged, regions no longer peaceful, as if something momentous loomed. Some witnessed godlike figures traversing the skies, radiating boundless light.
Within the sect, disciples were invigorated, confident their sect would grow mightier, ruling over the land. Yet secretly, the sect master and elders were troubled, having received the Guardian Spirit’s warning—this was a calamity in the making.
Quietly, the sect master and elders began preparing, knowing disaster might soon strike.
Half a month prior, Shi Yi had returned, seeking Little Rascal, but the latter had been wholly absorbed in studying roc techniques, unaware.
Thus, they missed each other, never meeting face-to-face. For Shi Yi had recently entered the ancient sacred academy, causing a sensation. None could recall the last time someone had achieved this feat.
Those who entered, barring untimely death, were destined to become sages. Especially someone like Shi Yi, born with dual-pupils—a rarity through the ages—he would surpass predecessors, perhaps one day becoming a god-king walking the mortal realm.
At dawn, beneath radiant morning clouds, Little Rascal rose from beneath the vine, brimming with vigor. A single night’s study had yielded immense gains.
These days, he had scarcely returned to his quarters, spending all his time in the world of runes, either in the Scripture Pavilion or here.
“It’s been long since I’ve seen Qingfeng. I should check on him.”
Bathing in the morning glow, treading upon dew-laden paths, his spirits lifted as he left the forbidden zone, heading toward his residence.
Sunlight bathed the verdant bamboo groves. Along the way, he encountered many ordinary sect disciples, all abuzz with discussion.
“Why so many people so early?” Little Rascal wondered, having been absent too long to know the happenings.
He inquired, “What’s going on?”
“You’re truly elusive, vanishing for so long again,” a new disciple who recognized him whispered. “The Zhulu Academy has come for exchanges. Alas!”
“Why sigh? Isn’t this a good thing?” Little Rascal was puzzled.
“Good? Yesterday, they sent just one person who crushed a whole group of ours. It was disastrous!” The disciple was disheartened.
“That strong?” Little Rascal was shocked.
“Zhulu Academy’s War Goddess brought over a dozen disciples. Their youngest alone defeated a crowd of ours, leaving many with broken bones.”
Little Rascal was stunned—was Zhulu Academy this formidable? Could his sect truly have no match?
Soon, he encountered Elder Xiong Fei and Elder Zhuo Yun, overhearing their discussion, his heart skipping a beat.
Zhulu Academy hadn’t come merely for exchanges—they also sought to pay respects to the Guardian Spirit.
“Are they probing our strength?” Little Rascal grew wary.
Though rivals, Zhulu Academy and his sect weren’t mortal enemies. If they were investigating, did they too sense impending chaos?
Leaving, he headed to the genius camp, frowning upon arrival. Bloodstains dotted the lakeshore, and pained cries echoed from the lakeside cabins.
Clearly, a fierce battle had occurred here, leaving many severely wounded—the spilled blood attested to its brutality.
“Qingfeng!” Little Rascal called, fearing his friend had been harmed.
With a creak, many cabins opened, geniuses emerging, their expressions shifting at the sight of him—this fierce, savage child had arrived!
“Little Brother!” Qingfeng appeared, unharmed.
But many around him were bandaged, grievously injured—especially Zhou Yuhao, wrapped like a dumpling, groaning intermittently.
Little Rascal couldn’t help but laugh—this fellow was truly unlucky. Every time they met, he was in dire straits. After being beaten by him several times, barely healed, now he’d been pummeled again.
Scanning the others, Little Rascal’s mirth faded. Their injuries were severe—broken bones, torn sinews. This “friendly” exchange had been excessively brutal.
Having often visited before, he had befriended many here. Seeing them pale and grievously wounded, his small face darkened.
“Is this a friendly exchange? Any heavier, and they’d be half-crippled!”
“We’ve sent for help—Brother Yu Feng, Xiao Tian, and others are returning from the elders’ tutelage,” someone said.
“That person was terrifying, barely fifteen yet immensely powerful, his treasure spells astounding—he suppressed all with a divine roc.”
Hearing this, Little Rascal’s interest was piqued. Having cultivated roc techniques himself, now evolving toward Kunpeng, he longed to meet this individual.
“Infuriating! Upon leaving, he declared our genius camp worthless, easily crushed,” the group fumed.
The genius camp had its strong members, but most had been selected by the elders, leaving few here.
Yet, Zhulu Academy’s youth was indeed fearsome, single-handedly sweeping through this place, leaving all stunned.
His parting sneers, dripping with disdain, had deeply wounded the gathered geniuses.
“Ah, Xiao Tian has returned!”
“Brother Wu Feng is back too!”
The group rejoiced, preparing for a rematch.
“Let’s wait for Yu Feng and the others to return. Only one of them fought, yet he was this strong—the other nine haven’t even shown their power,” someone cautioned, preferring to regroup their strongest before retaliating.
“Why wait? Let’s go now—I can’t hold back!” Little Rascal declared.
Some hesitated, but most nodded. By now, over half knew his true capabilities. With this savage child leading, any challenge could be overcome.
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