In the Pure Land, radiant mists danced, and the spiritual lake shimmered like warm jade. Yet the tranquility was shattered by the ongoing battle, as a group of prodigies wreaked havoc in the sacred monkey den.
“Roar—!” A divine monkey howled, leaping into the air and seizing a dazzling Flood Dragon in its golden claws. With a gaping maw lined with gleaming fangs, it clamped down on the dragon’s tail.
“Scram!” The Flood Dragon roared, its powerful body writhing violently. As a pure-blooded creature, its physical might was unmatched, and with the aid of Glyphs, its struggles could shatter mountains.
“Crack!” The divine monkey’s fangs snapped, eliciting a pained shriek. Yet, undeterred, it slashed with its razor-sharp claws, adorned with mysterious symbols, tearing into the dragon’s tail.
The Flood Dragon grunted, blood gushing from the wound. Its flesh was not weak—but two days prior, the Monkey King had struck it from afar, pinning it to the earth with a thrown spear. Though it had restored its tail with precious medicine, the injury still bled freely.
The divine monkey, eyes alight with savagery, ripped a chunk of flesh from the dragon and devoured it. The sight of divine blood spurred the surrounding golden monkeys into a frenzy, lunging forward as one. To them, this flesh was a treasure beyond compare.
“Roar—!” The Flood Dragon bellowed, its treasure artifact glowing as it unleashed its full power, determined to slay those who dared defy its majesty.
Elsewhere, the Leviathan Roc was also drenched in blood, locked in fierce combat with the monkeys. Meanwhile, the Netherworld Butterfly, the Azure-Scaled Eagle, and the monkeys clashed in a chaotic melee. The battle had reached a fever pitch, with all sides fighting tooth and nail.
In the past, these golden monkeys had been infamous for their brutality. Under the Monkey King’s leadership, they had slain multiple monarchs and seized four lesser saint herbs. Now, a group of youths dared to snatch treasures from the tiger’s den—an unforgivable offense.
Shi Yi strode forward, wreathed in dazzling radiance, mere steps away from uprooting a silver immortal peach tree. His power was overwhelming, leaving a trail of fallen monkeys in his wake.
Amidst the ancient forest, Little Rascal stood silently behind an old tree, observing the fierce battle. Suddenly, his instincts screamed danger. At the same time, his wolf companion let out a low growl, sensing imminent peril.
Snow-white petals drifted down, shimmering beautifully as they danced through the trees.
“Not good!” He barely had time to react before a sharp pain lanced through his right arm—as if bitten by insects. Seeds had taken root in his flesh, sprouting rapidly.
Little Rascal’s eyes blazed with fury. These were no snowflakes but cursed tendrils, raining down from above.
“Willow Demon Tree!”
In ancient times, a peerless demon tree had once wrought untold carnage, drowning the land in blood. Its cursed seeds, known as Demon Whiskers, could take root in the bodies of the strong, draining their essence to fuel its own growth. Even the mightiest totems of the clans had fled before its wrath.
Eventually, the sages of the era united to defeat it after a grueling battle. Yet now, a descendant of that terror had emerged—and it had set its sights on Little Rascal.
His arm glowed as he fought to expel the seeds. The Willow Demon Tree appeared, bathed in sacred radiance, its branches lush with vitality. A snow-white orb, like a full moon, dangled from its boughs, shedding cursed tendrils.
“Begone!” Little Rascal roared, unleashing rippling waves of energy to repel the falling seeds. Yet two tendrils had already taken root, greedily feeding on his flesh and divine power.
“Those touched by the Demon Whiskers cannot escape death,” the tree intoned, its gnarled roots shifting like human feet. Silver Glyphs adorned its trunk, and though it was a tree, it bore a face capable of speech.
With a hiss, countless tendrils shot forth, gleaming like a river of stars.
“Such potent flesh!” The Willow Demon Tree intensified its assault, its expression twisting with hunger.
Little Rascal gritted his teeth, channeling the ancient bone scriptures to purify the seeds in his arm while fending off the onslaught.
“Break!” He bellowed, his arm erupting in light as he forced out the seeds—along with a spurt of blood and flesh.
“Retrieve them!” The tree commanded, seeking to reclaim the seeds and absorb his essence.
“Not happening!” Little Rascal snapped, seizing one sprouting tendril with his teeth. His pearly whites shone as he crunched through the iron-hard whisker—and swallowed it whole.
The Willow Demon Tree froze. Never before had it encountered an opponent who devoured its seeds.
The second tendril met the same fate, crushed between his teeth like a carrot.
“Such fearsome teeth!” the tree gasped, stunned. Its cursed tendrils were indestructible treasures—yet this child had chewed them effortlessly.
With a flash, Little Rascal lunged, engaging the tree in brutal combat.
Glyphs blazed across the sky as the two clashed. The Willow Demon Tree was formidable, its mastery of Glyphs unmatched. Its branches shimmered with radiant symbols, weaving an ancient demonic array to trap and refine its prey.
Little Rascal brandished his broken sword, slashing forward. In response, the tree unleashed a forbidden artifact—a charred staff, exuding an aura capable of suppressing suns and moons.
“That’s the weapon of the ancient demon tree!” Fire Spirit Princess gasped, recognizing the relic from her kingdom’s records.
The broken sword and the staff collided, igniting a storm of divine flames and phantom roars, as if the battles of antiquity had spilled into the present.
The Willow Demon Tree glowed, its leaves rustling as emerald mists billowed. Its entire form was a treasure, impervious to destruction—especially its roots, which pierced through boulders to ensnare Little Rascal.
Yet the savage child fought back with equal ferocity, lightning crackling around him as silver moons sliced outward.
“Once entangled by the Willow Demon Tree, none survive!” the Fire Crow cried.
“Not necessarily,” the Crimson Bird countered, confident in Little Rascal’s resilience. After all, he had once swallowed the Primordial True Water raw.
Little Rascal’s body radiated golden lightning, resisting the invasive roots. Though some pierced his flesh, drawing blood, he showed no fear. Instead, he clung to the tree—and began gnawing on its trunk.
*Crunch! Crunch!*
The tree shuddered as the child bit a chunk from its body, chewing with relish.
“Damn it, is he even human?!” the tree cursed, trembling in pain. Its roots drained his blood, but the boy retaliated by devouring its very essence.
With a final wrench, Little Rascal tore off a thick branch, electricity surging into the tree’s core.
The Willow Demon Tree had endured enough. With a violent shake, it recoiled, retracting its roots and staff. It now regarded the child as the most savage beast it had ever encountered, keeping a wary distance.
Little Rascal, blood dripping from his wounds, happily munched on the glowing branch.
“Tastes like sugarcane—a bit sweet,” he remarked, licking his lips.
Deep in the forest, the Willow Demon Tree stiffened, trembling with suppressed rage. But in the end, it turned and vanished without a word.
Meanwhile, by the spiritual lake, the battle reached its climax. The Violet-Clad Maiden swung her golden horn, scattering Glyphs as she charged toward a silver immortal peach tree.
Monkeys swarmed her, but the Azure-Scaled Eagle, Leviathan Roc, Flood Dragon, and Netherworld Butterfly joined the fray, wielding supreme treasures to push them back.
At that moment, the void trembled. Shi Yi struck, his left eye unleashing a Glyph-formed Bixi and his right eye a Golden Roc. The twin attacks blasted the monkeys away from a peach tree.
Clutching a mysterious artifact, he shone like the sun, his Glyphs weaving a radiant net around the sacred herb—ready to claim it.
“This is bad!” the Nine-Headed Lion exclaimed.
From the forest’s edge, Little Rascal erupted into motion. With a thunderous heave, he uprooted an entire stone peak—and hurled it at the battlefield, engulfing all beneath its shadow.
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