Chapter 95: Becoming a Legend

Dark clouds loomed overhead, and black mist enveloped the land. Little Rascal fought with all his might, but in the end, he couldn’t hold on. His body grew increasingly indistinct, and he let out a frustrated cry. For some reason, seeing this holy terror in such a state, about to be banished, the onlookers found it hard to muster any sympathy. Many of them laughed until their lips twitched.

“Hehe…”

“Hahaha…”

“I’ll be back!” Little Rascal declared with unwillingness, regret, and anger, his childish voice ringing out.

“We’ll be waiting!” Fine Jade Elder squinted his eyes, stroking his graying beard as he shouted back.

“Go early, return early—and next time, don’t be so greedy for treasure,” Hammer Uncle chuckled heartily, waving a broken hammer in farewell.

“Ah, poor kid, actually getting banished from the Netherworld. That’s a record, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s ever happened before,” Bird Elder sighed. This child was truly something—utterly shameless, daring to do anything for a piece of treasure bone.

“*Huff… huff…*” Little Rascal seethed. Banished! Struggling was useless. The oppressive black mist squeezed him out of the starting grounds.

Before him stretched a vast expanse of ruins—crumbling walls and shattered pillars exuding an ancient, weathered aura. Scattered rubble whispered of past glories. Beyond, towering primordial demon mountains loomed on the horizon, shrouded in chaotic mist, awe-inspiring as if from the dawn of creation.

This was still the Netherworld, a realm woven from the spiritual power of gods. But it transcended the starting grounds and the blessed lands, existing beyond their boundaries.

In the distance, a towering willow tree took root amidst the ruins, its five tender branches swaying in the wind, absorbing mist and refining chaotic energy, shimmering with emerald radiance.

“Willow God,” Little Rascal called softly, his small face sullen as he trudged forward.

Willow God stirred from a meditative state, surprised. “Why have you returned? With your talent, even staying another half-month wouldn’t have harmed your physical body.”

“I got kicked out,” Little Rascal grumbled, grinding his shiny little fangs. “I’m not giving up. Is there a way to go back?”

“Who banished you? Did you meet an opponent you couldn’t defeat?” Willow God’s voice was serene, soothing.

“The Netherworld itself expelled me. It won’t let me stay,” Little Rascal muttered, kicking a piece of rubble.

“Hmm?” Willow God, usually unshakably calm, seemed to ripple with emotion. “What happened? Why would it banish you?”

“I… cracked a rock, then accidentally shattered a stele, dug out some bones from it, and got warned. Then came the black mist,” Little Rascal explained.

“That can’t be all. Something unusual must have happened. Tell me the details. If you were truly wronged, there might be a way back.”

“Well… that stele was a Record Monument, and the rock was a gateway to the Netherworld…” Little Rascal summarized briefly.

Willow God: “…”

For a long while, the scorched-black tree absorbed chaotic mist, its five tender branches drawing in the essence of the void, as if petrified.

“Willow God, say something! Can I reason with it? I *have* to go back!” Little Rascal pleaded, eyes hopeful.

“No.” The answer was swift and absolute.

“Why?” Little Rascal’s heart sank.

Willow God sighed. “You really… couldn’t you push it any further? If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have banished you.”

“I knew you’d be on my side! Too bad you’re not the heartless Netherworld.”

“If it were me, I’d have thrown you straight into the Black Beast Prison.”

Little Rascal froze, scratching his head. “The Netherworld is huge, with so many steles. One less wouldn’t hurt. Besides, it never said not to break them!”

“Come back in two years,” Willow God declared, shutting down any further debate.

“I *will* return!” Little Rascal dashed to the edge of the ruins, shouting at a large bluestone—a passage leading back to the starting grounds.

“Eh? Did I just hear that kid’s voice? He got banished—how’s that possible?” The crowd in the starting grounds exchanged bewildered glances.

Amidst the ruins, emerald light surged like water. Willow God’s body blazed with radiance before erupting with overwhelming power. Its five tender branches stretched endlessly, piercing the heavens.

“*Boom!*”

The void trembled as a massive gate materialized, thick with mist and auspicious energy. Wrapping around Little Rascal, it propelled him upward, vaulting through the portal.

Back in Stone Village, Willow God’s true form shone, bathing the entire settlement in divine light. A vast will descended into the tree.

Beneath it, a beautiful child sat cross-legged, his jade-like face serene, long lashes fluttering as his large eyes snapped open. He sprang to his feet.

“You’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Your body was motionless, your spirit absent—we thought something had happened! Were you soul-wandering?” The villagers crowded around, worried.

“I’m fine. Willow God watched over me. I went to a place called the Netherworld,” Little Rascal explained, standing up.

“Ah! I should’ve guessed—the Netherworld! Though I’ve never been,” the clan chief exclaimed.

“Wow! Soul-wandering—what was it like? What’s the Netherworld like?” Qing Feng asked eagerly. Soon, all the children clamored for details.

Little Rascal recounted everything truthfully. The villagers listened in stunned silence before bursting into laughter.

“Kid, you really know how to stir up trouble! No wonder they kicked you out,” they teased. Only Little Rascal remained sulky, still fuming.

“We want to train there too!” the children chorused, eyes shining with longing.

After leaving the Netherworld, life returned to normal. Little Rascal resumed his training, venturing deep into the mountains and wilds, battling fierce creatures. Yet, during quiet nights, meditating on the *Primordial True Record*, his mind wandered back to his recent experiences.

That spiritual journey had shown him the vast world beyond—countless strongmen clashing, sects and sacred lands vying for dominance. He yearned to join them.

Finally, he shared his thoughts with the clan chief, who remained silent for a long time before nodding. “Child, it’s time for you to spread your wings. Stone Village is too small for you now.”

The villagers gathered, understanding yet reluctant to let him go. They had watched him take his first steps, babble his first words, and grow into someone extraordinary. Now, as he prepared to leave, the women wept. Even the men fell silent—their boy had grown up.

“Little Rascal, take us with you!” Er Meng and Pi Hou pleaded, eager to see the outside world.

“No. You’re not strong enough to survive the wilds. Stay and train!”

“Exactly. Er Meng, Pi Hou, you’re twelve or thirteen now—time to settle down, have kids, *then* go,” their elders chided, making the boys blush.

“I’ll go with Big Bro,” Qing Feng said. No one objected—Little Rascal was meant to escort him to the Sky Mending Pavilion.

“Good. We leave tomorrow. We’ll train as we travel,” Little Rascal agreed.

Lastly, he bid Willow God farewell, seeking its counsel.

“Go. Be careful. But return before you turn twelve,” Willow God advised.

“Why?” Little Rascal asked.

“For your baptism.”

Great clans, noble heirs, and sacred sect disciples underwent baptisms at ages five, ten, and fifteen—tempering their bodies with the blood of fierce beasts and rare herbs, shaping their future potential. Little Rascal had once been sealed in a cauldron, bathed in the blood of an ancient Suan Ni, laying a formidable foundation.

“Your bones are strong. A year or two early or late won’t matter—but don’t miss it entirely. Remember to return.”

Little Rascal nodded solemnly, grateful. Willow God seemed unusually serious—what kind of baptism awaited him?

On the day of departure, the entire village saw them off. The radiant unicorn, Little White, now nearly a full-fledged beast, led the herd of steeds that had grown close to the villagers.

“Little White, you can’t come this time. The journey’s too far, too dangerous,” Little Rascal patted its massive lowered head.

Bird cries echoed as Zi Yun, Da Peng, and Xiao Qing descended—each several meters long, their bodies pulsing with runes. In a year or two, they would dominate the mountains, making Stone Village impregnable.

“Zi Yun, you can’t come either. The road is perilous. Stay and protect the village.”

The three beasts nuzzled him in protest but relented. Only the golden furball, the size of a fist, perched on his shoulder—small enough to carry anywhere.

Before leaving, the clan chief presented a stone box, carefully opening it to reveal a crimson feather. “Take this.”

It was a relic from the Scarlet Bird, left as a token of gratitude after Willow God healed its injuries. To great clans, it might serve as a deterrent.

Finally, Little Rascal and Qing Feng set off. The villagers followed for miles, many in tears, fearing for the young boys’ safety in the vast wilderness.

“Come back soon! We’ll wait for you to lead us on adventures!” the children shouted.

By the time they met again, they might be grown, with children of their own.

“Goodbye!” Little Rascal wiped his tears, casting one last glance before sprinting into the distance with Qing Feng.

Time flew. Months passed, yet they hadn’t left the mountains. Thirty thousand miles on foot was an impossible distance, but they improvised—taming fierce beasts as mounts, though many perished along the way.

This journey was about tempering themselves, not haste. They explored forbidden zones, narrowly escaping death multiple times.

“*Aiya!*” Qing Feng yelped, clinging mid-air as a captured raptor bucked beneath them. For days, they clung like stubborn leeches until the beast collapsed, exhausted.

“Thrilling!” Qing Feng gasped. But danger lurked—some beasts charged into deadly territories, like the time a giant centipede’s venom turned a forest to dust.

Through trials, they gathered spirit herbs and beast blood, fueling their growth.

Half a year later, they emerged from the wilderness at the border of the Stone Nation.

By then, Little Rascal had opened his fifth Heavenly Passage—a golden volcano erupting essence into his body. At just nine years old, he was surrounded by five vortexes of power.

“Big Bro, you’re amazing! Clan Chief said most take years to open *one* passage!” Qing Feng admired.

“Not enough. I need to grow stronger,” Little Rascal murmured.

Qing Feng had also progressed rapidly, nearing mid-stage Blood Moving Realm under Little Rascal’s guidance.

Entering the Stone Nation through a different city, Little Rascal sensed the Netherworld’s presence but couldn’t enter.

“Qing Feng, go in and find Hammer Uncle, Bird Elder, and Fine Jade Elder. Ask them how to reach the Sky Mending Pavilion.”

After hours, Qing Feng’s spirit returned.

“Well?”

“Big Bro… you’re *famous* there. The whole place is buzzing because of you.”

“What?”

“You shattered the Netherworld’s gate, broke a record held by the Dual-Pupiled One, *and* destroyed a Record Monument. Even after half a year, you’re a legend. Though… not a *good* one.” Qing Feng hesitated.

Little Rascal’s face darkened.

“Hammer Uncle slipped up—people know you’re heading to the Sky Mending Pavilion and Deer Chasing Academy. The Netherworld’s gone wild. Many are planning to follow.”

Indeed, the Netherworld was in an uproar—all because the infamous troublemaker was about to reappear… in the flesh.