Upon the divine mountain, a figure shrouded in auspicious energy and radiant light took a single step, leaving behind a golden path that stretched tens of thousands of miles into the distance. The golden avenue moved with astonishing speed, like a comet streaking across the sky, its divine glow unfurling across the heavens until it reached the far shore. In an instant, he traversed countless miles, yet never truly approached the Heaven Mending Pavilion.
“If you do not perish, it would truly defy the heavens. I shall wait for your calamity!” His voice was icy, the once earth-shaking divine radiance now withdrawn as he stood upon a towering peak. He was not alone—two other figures had arrived as well, each standing apart in silence, gazing into the distance.
Within the Heaven Mending Pavilion, the Guardian Spirit pulsed with vitality. Its once-dull leaves rapidly turned lush green, becoming translucent and emanating a serene, sacred light. The gourd upon its vine rumbled, releasing chaotic energy as a terrifying resonance of the Great Dao echoed forth.
Everyone rejoiced. The disciples of the Heaven Mending Pavilion knelt in reverence, some elders weeping with joy. The revival of the Guardian Spirit was the best news they could have received. Over the years, its decline had been widely known, causing the sect’s prestige to plummet. Once, their decrees were absolute, but now, many factions dared to challenge them—all because the Guardian Spirit had been on the verge of death.
For ages, the Heaven Mending Pavilion had lost its supreme divine technique. If the Guardian Spirit perished, they would fall from the ranks of the mightiest forces, inviting catastrophe. But now, the entire sect erupted in celebration as the Guardian Spirit truly revived, its leaves vibrant and radiant, exuding an emerald brilliance.
Little Rascal stood in awe. The vine was utterly transformed, as if carved from jade, glowing with a sacred light as strands of auspicious energy rose from it. Was this the same gourd vine he had seen before? It was entirely different!
A powerful aura spread, life energy surging like a deity undergoing rebirth. Starlight poured from the heavens, and the essence of the sun was devoured by the ancient vine. After an unknown length of time, life energy surged anew as the vine sprouted fresh buds, lustrous as green agate, brimming with overwhelming might.
When all finally settled, the anomalies faded, leaving behind an enigmatic presence wreathed in divine chains of order, untouchable in its majesty. The revival of the Guardian Spirit spread throughout the sect, igniting endless cheers.
The news quickly reached the outside world, shaking the vast wilderness. Many had believed the ancient vine would die, yet it had endured. Its overwhelming life force could be sensed even from afar.
Far beyond the Heaven Mending Pavilion, in distant mountains, a luminous figure sighed before vanishing along the golden path. A colossal beast, its eyes like blood moons, soared into the heavens, stirring black mist in its wake. Another divine light, bright as the sun, exploded outward before disappearing, leaving only dread in its absence.
The revival of the Guardian Spirit stirred excitement for days before finally quieting.
Deep in the night, Little Rascal sat beneath the radiant vine, studying a bone scripture with utmost focus. The tranquility here was unparalleled. Having contributed the soil nourished by the Fountain of Youth, he had earned the privilege to borrow sacred texts from the sect’s archives.
True to Ghost Elder’s words, he chose to cultivate here at night, where the gourd emitted a divine resonance, aiding his enlightenment. Over time, he had fused the divine techniques of the Golden-Winged Roc and the Azure-Sky Roc, elevating their power to terrifying heights.
“Where is that golden bone? If I can find it, this technique will undergo a qualitative transformation,” he mused, eyes gleaming. Behind him, a golden divine moon—or perhaps an egg—hovered, within which a primordial demonic bird seemed to gestate, casting him in an otherworldly light.
“Hmm? This demonic bird seems… different.” He turned, scrutinizing it. After a night of enlightenment, he noticed the anomaly—the bird flickered between gold and azure, even shifting toward a fish-like form.
“Is this… a Kunpeng?!” His eyes widened in shock. Such a creature ranked among the ten mightiest of the primordial era!
“Could it be true?” He stared at the shifting form within the golden egg, half-fish, half-bird, shrouded in mist and exuding an ancient, fearsome aura.
“I’ve only begun this path. It’s not yet a true Kunpeng, but it’s evolving toward it.” His eyes burned with excitement. He had stumbled upon a path to recreate one of the supreme divine arts of antiquity!
“Golden-Winged Roc and Azure-Sky Roc fused can manifest as a Kunpeng. I must explore this further!” Determination filled him.
“You are on the right path,” an ancient, weary voice spoke.
Startled, Little Rascal looked up to see the Guardian Spirit addressing him for the first time.
“Guardian, please guide me!” He leaped up, clinging to the vine like a koala, eyes sparkling with hope.
The vine was amused—few dared approach it so boldly. But this child had brought the life-giving soil, so it indulged him.
“I am but a vine. I know nothing of the Kunpeng’s arts. I can only confirm your path is correct,” it sighed.
Undeterred, Little Rascal pressed, “Surely you can help me further? The golden bone in the archives—if I find it, my technique could ascend!”
The vine trembled, extending a fresh tendril into the earth. It unearthed a golden bone, its surface shimmering with radiant runes, more alive than any treasure.
Little Rascal’s eyes locked onto it. “This bone… was buried here? Are there more beneath you? Even the lost supreme techniques?”
“This bone is exceptional, no lesser than the sect’s lost arts. Master it, and you shall reap boundless rewards,” the Guardian Spirit intoned.
Yet its voice grew weaker.
“Guardian, what’s wrong?”
“I am dying,” it said calmly.
“What? You’ve just revived!”
“I have lived since antiquity. My time is spent.”
“But you seem stronger than ever!”
“I must appear so. If I perish now, calamity will befall the Heaven Mending Pavilion.”
Little Rascal paled. “The great turmoil of the wasteland… it begins with your death?”
The vine nodded. “When chaos comes, only strength ensures survival.”
“Then take two drops of true Fountain of Youth!”
“It will not save me. My fate is sealed.”
In his pouch, five golden dragon-shaped droplets slumbered.
“I will endure a while longer—months, perhaps a year—to buy time for the sect.”
The vine spoke with serenity, unburdened by fear. Little Rascal, too, shed his sorrow, matching its calm.
“Then at least guide me further!”
“I know nothing of the Kunpeng’s arts.”
“You must have wisdom to share!”
The vine rustled. “Study the archives. Some texts there… are extraordinary.”
Its voice faded. The Guardian Spirit, though revived, was living on borrowed time.
And the golden bone in Little Rascal’s hands pulsed with untold power—a key to unlocking a legend lost to the ages.
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