“Child, once you enter the Heaven Mending Pavilion, you must strive hard and not disappoint the hopes of your clan!”
“This ancient sacred land is no ordinary place—it once birthed divine beings. Here, you must shed your mischievous ways, heed your masters’ words, and cultivate diligently.”
Elders from great tribes repeated their admonitions over and over, urging their young to master divine abilities so they might one day protect their clans. Over three thousand children, their eyes reddened with emotion, stood beside their elders, wiping away tears as they listened. The time for parting had come, and none knew when they would meet again—perhaps many of these elders would already have passed by then.
“Take care, Elders!”
These children were the finest talents selected from their clans, most unrelated to the elders by blood. Yet, they clung to them with reluctance, for these elders had guided them across hundreds of thousands of miles of wilderness to this place, granting them a chance to change their lives.
Little Rascal stood among the crowd. Though he missed home, he had no kin or elders here, so he pretended to wipe tears while tugging at the sleeve of an unfamiliar old man, sniffling theatrically.
*Whose child is this?* The elder frowned, certain this boy wasn’t from his clan. But with so many children weeping, perhaps he had simply grabbed the wrong person.
“Child, don’t cry. Just focus on your cultivation,” the elder consoled.
“Thank you, Grandpa! I understand!”
Noticing fewer children crying now, Little Rascal abruptly stopped his act, his face dry of tears, and turned to leave—leaving the elder dumbfounded.
At last, the grand mountain gate quieted as the elders from the great tribes departed, taking with them nearly ninety thousand youths who had failed the trials. Only three thousand remained, a dense crowd that left the elder seated upon the great bluestone at the gate with a headache. Previous years saw only a few hundred disciples accepted—this year’s numbers were overwhelming.
*How to arrange so many?* It was a vexing problem.
Elders like Xiong Fei and Zhuo Yun stood to the side, heads bowed, seething with frustration. They had bungled this affair and now felt utterly ashamed before their senior.
“So be it. Lead them all inside. Everyone will take on more disciples,” the elder declared, his eyes flickering with visions of creation and destruction, awe-inspiring in their depth.
The mountain gate, formed of two towering stone peaks, stood majestic and solemn. Numerous elders of the Heaven Mending Pavilion emerged to guide the children inside, where they would pay homage to the founder’s statue.
Only upon entering did one truly step into the Heaven Mending Pavilion—a vast expanse of elegant peaks adorned with ancient trees, pavilions, and cascading waterfalls. Each mountain was a paradise, wreathed in mist and brimming with tranquility.
This was the ancient sacred land, where spiritual energy curled like smoke, rare beasts and auspicious birds roamed, and the very air seemed to hum with mythic vitality.
“It’s incredible here! Just breathing makes every pore relax—perfect for cultivation!” many youths exclaimed in delight.
“Indeed! I feel like my bone inscriptions will progress several times faster here,” another agreed excitedly.
“Those birds look plump—are those Fire Spirit Sparrows? They must be delicious,” Little Rascal muttered, drooling.
Back in Stone Village, small phoenix-like birds had been forbidden prey by the chief. The memory of their flavor still lingered on his tongue.
“There are so many here—would eating just one be a problem?” he mused aloud.
“What are you saying?” A nearby youth gave him a strange look.
“Nothing! Hey, look—isn’t that Crimson Floodvine? A spiritual herb! Could we pluck a section? It’s over two meters long!”
Little Rascal tried to divert attention, but his words only made the other boy shrink back in alarm.
*Where’s Furball? Once I bring him in, he’ll sniff out all the spiritual herbs on these mountains!*
Each peak boasted ancient trees, rare herbs, and divine beasts. Some even exuded auspicious auras—surely, they nurtured precious medicines.
Unconsciously, they arrived at a vast clearing surrounded by radiant peaks. At its center stood an immense stone statue, carved from an entire mountain.
“This is our founder. To enter the Heaven Mending Pavilion, you must first pay respects to him!”
The colossal statue, weathered by time, was barely recognizable as human—let alone distinguishable by gender.
“Bow to the Founder!”
A senior elder led the three thousand youths in solemn obeisance.
“Is that an old man, a grandmother, or a sacrificial guardian? Ever heard of them?” Little Rascal nudged a boy beside him.
“I don’t know!” The boy recoiled, shocked by his boldness, before hastily kowtowing again.
Undeterred, Little Rascal tugged at a girl’s skirt in front. “Hey, do you know who this founder was? What great powers did they wield in ancient times? What feats did they accomplish?”
“Stop it!” The girl yanked her skirt back, flustered, and quickly resumed her bow.
Nearby children stifled laughter, murmuring prayers to the founder, not daring to glance around.
Little Rascal scratched his head, poking and prodding others to make friends—only to find them all terrified of straying from the ceremony.
Finally, the lengthy ritual ended.
Little Rascal tugged the skirt of a thirteen-year-old girl ahead. “Hey, wasn’t the Human Emperor’s youngest daughter supposed to be here? And descendants of ancient relics? Where are they?”
“Don’t touch me!” The girl glared fiercely.
“Do you know?” he pressed, unbothered, turning to a group of older boys.
“They left already. Their positions were different—they circled the statue, paid respects, and departed,” one answered.
“What a shame! I wanted to see the legendary double-pupiled one. Does he really have four pupils?” another sighed.
“Double pupils aren’t that interesting—just creepy,” Little Rascal scoffed. “I wanted to see if the emperor’s daughter is as beautiful as they say, and those ancient relic descendants.”
“Shh! That’s the Human Emperor’s daughter—watch your tongue,” a fifteen-year-old warned.
“What’s the big deal? She’s just a girl like us here. Maybe she’ll treat us to phoenix meat or gift us a treasure!”
His audacity made the group laugh. Little Rascal’s lively nature quickly won them over.
“You lot, come along! I’ll take you to meet your masters. Be serious—no fooling around!”
A beautiful maiden of eighteen or nineteen approached, pointing at them.
“Pretty sister, will you be our master?” Little Rascal grinned, his chubby cheeks puffing out due to his altered appearance.
“You little rascal, daring to tease your senior?” The white-robed girl pinched his cheek.
“I’m not chubby—I’m robust, like your slender grace. Both are signs of beauty!” He grabbed her jade-like fingers to stop her.
The girl blinked in surprise. While others still missed their families, this boy was already thriving.
“Listen, troublemaker—don’t corrupt the others. Let’s go choose your master.” She gave his cheek another tweak before releasing him.
Suddenly, a pristine feather several meters long descended, bearing two young disciples who hurried to report to the elders.
“What?!” The elders exchanged hushed, urgent words before Elder Xiong Fei stood.
“Bring it here!”
The crowd murmured in curiosity. Soon, an ancient beast hide inscribed with glowing runes floated in, carrying several experts and a massive stone slab.
“Is that a sacred stone—a sacrificial guardian?” the youths whispered.
“Hold the master selection! Return here!” Elder Xiong Fei commanded.
The children halted and regrouped before the founder’s statue. The elders’ faces were grim, especially Xiong Fei and Zhuo Yun’s.
Little Rascal fell silent, blending in with the crowd.
“Show them,” Elder Zhuo Yun ordered.
The slab was lifted onto the platform, revealing an inscription:
*”Peerlessly divine, righteous and bright.”*
The youths erupted in chatter—many had visited the Void God Realm and recognized these words.
“The Milk Child!”
“It’s that bizarre kid’s handwriting! Did he join the Heaven Mending Pavilion?”
“Didn’t he escape? How’d he become a disciple?”
Three thousand voices clamored.
Elder Zhuo Yun turned the slab, revealing another line:
*”With hammer in hand, the world is mine.”*
Laughter and exclamations followed. Only one silver-robed youth clenched his fists, then clutched his forehead as a throbbing bruise flared with pain.
“It’s him!” he seethed.
Elder Xiong Fei’s voice cut through the noise. “You all know who this is. That troublemaker may be among us. Your task is…”
To everyone’s shock, he issued a bounty: anyone who found the Milk Child or provided clues would become a core disciple.
The crowd erupted.
Little Rascal grimaced. *This is harsh! I just got here, and I’m already a wanted criminal? Do they suspect I’m in the crowd?*
He slipped deeper into the throng, shouting with the rest: “Catch that menace!”
“Enough. Proceed to master selection.”
The elders waved them off.
Little Rascal stuck with his new friends as the white-robed girl led them to choose masters—only to find every area overcrowded.
“Fine. This group will learn under Elder Xiong Fei and me,” Zhuo Yun declared.
*What?!* Little Rascal’s heart sank. These two elders were already furious with him—how would he survive under their tutelage?
The white-robed girl pinched his cheek again. “Behave. Learning from these elders is an honor—their status makes this arrangement irregular.”
The other youths brightened, while Little Rascal forced an excited expression, inwardly despairing.
Truthfully, Xiong Fei and Zhuo Yun were equally dismayed. A hundred disciples between them? How could they teach so many? But their earlier blunders left them no choice.
“Follow me to your lodgings,” the white-robed girl said, leading the hundred newcomers toward a mountainous area, explaining rules and sternly warning against disturbing the pavilion’s sacred guardian.
The stone mountains housed all three thousand new disciples in bamboo-lined dwellings—a pleasant environment.
To Little Rascal’s relief, the elders only appeared once in the following days, lecturing briefly before departing.
*My happy life begins! Where’s Furball?*
Days passed without the golden-haired creature, but he spotted Qing Feng—and frowned. His friend bore bruises.
*Who did this? So soon? Because he’s weaker?*
Little Rascal clenched his fists but stayed cautious. This wasn’t the wilderness—recklessness could bring disaster.
Yet he wouldn’t let this stand. Qing Feng was like a brother. Whoever harmed him would answer for it.
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