Chapter 240

Before Shi Village, the Little Dot struck out, and with a casual movement, he sent the Jiao Peng flying.

Fang Yu watched this scene and nodded; the Little Dot was still at the Blood Moving Realm, yet his physical strength had already reached over a hundred thousand jin, while that so-called peerless genius outside, though hailed as unmatched, possessed merely five thousand jin of power—identical to the Divine Power Realm of the 5th Stage of Physical Body in the Eternal Life Realm.

Five thousand jin at this realm was already the limit for most geniuses; only the Little Dot could reach the extreme limit of over a hundred thousand jin.

Of course, from a certain perspective, over a hundred thousand jin was not the absolute limit of the Blood Moving Realm, just as the power of nine Xuanhuang Stallions was not the limit of the 10th Stage of Physical Body in the Eternal Life Realm.

In ancient times, the disciple of Wu Xianzun of Pan Wu cultivated the Pan Wu Great Strength Divine Art, also known as the Great Primordial Art, whose physical limit reached ninety-nine Xuanhuang Stallions of power, and even at the 1st Stage of Divine Abilities, he possessed ten thousand horses of power—truly extreme cultivation.

Back then, Fang Yu had not yet obtained the Pan Wu Great Strength Divine Art of the Three Thousand Great Paths and had not perfected his physical body before breaking through into the Divine Ability Secret Realm; upon first entering, he possessed merely one hundred Xuanhuang Stallions of power, utterly unable to compare with those elders who reached ten thousand horses of power at the 1st Stage of Divine Abilities.

The Three Thousand Great Paths, the Great Primordial Art, were not something an ordinary person could obtain.

If he ever gained the opportunity in the future, he could cultivate it properly then.

This Jiao Peng, limited to five thousand jin, dared to challenge the Little Dot, Shi Hao—he was plainly asking for death.

"Wow, what an amazing little kid!"

Two little girls from a tribe, eyes shining, leapt down from their snow-feathered mounts and ran up close, wanting to pinch the Little Dot's cheeks.

The Little Dot shyly stepped back, evading their pursuit, but his gaze turned to Jiao Peng and he said, "Big brother, what you're doing is wrong."

Milk stains still clung to his lips, uncleaned; his large, jet-black eyes sparkled, making the two elf-like girls adore him even more and want to tease him.

Yet all the powerful figures behind him sensed something amiss—this Little Dot was merely a nursing infant, yet he had slapped away Jiao Peng, a peerless genius from the Wang Hou territory, with a single blow—how was this possible?

Jiao Peng had been nurtured by many experts from the Great Marsh; since childhood, his physical body had undergone immense purification, and at such a young age, he had already reached five thousand jin of physical strength—an unimaginable feat for most children.

Now, five thousand jin of Divine Power had no effect? How could this be?

"Ah…"

Jiao Peng's arm trembled slightly; he felt as if his bones had fractured. He never imagined that with five thousand jin of immense strength, he could be nearly toppled by a child.

His eyes glowed with bestial light, his expression fiercely hostile—he longed to immediately unleash his clan's supreme divine art and obliterate the Little Dot on the spot.

"Again!"

Yet he still did not activate the Jiao Clan's divine art; he relied solely on his physical strength—he could not believe anyone younger possessed greater power than him.

At this moment, he charged forward wildly, his fists roaring like a colossal beast emerging from the boundless mountains, stirring a furious gale with terrifying momentum as he lunged at the Little Dot.

"Big brother, why are you bullying me?"

The Little Dot, puzzled, stared at Jiao Peng, extended his arm, and slapped forward.

"Boom!"

This time, everyone clearly saw: the Little Dot used only his physical strength, without any trace of divine art—simply pushing forward, his terrifying power sent Jiao Peng flying once again.

The genius from Luo Fu Great Marsh continually retreated, each footstep causing deep fissures in the ground to crack open one after another.

"So strong!"

Jiao Peng gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with disbelief—he finally realized he truly was no match for this little baby.

"Hahahaha…"

Lei Mingyuan, over six years old, laughed uncontrollably, doubling over.

But apart from him, no one else smiled; Jiao Peng was considered a peerless genius of the Great Marsh, which was precisely why he had been brought out for training.

But if Jiao Peng was a peerless genius, then what kind of genius was this little baby before them?

"This child's potential is astonishing—if he enters the grand battlefield of rival races, he might truly secure a high ranking, even make the top ten!"

Someone whispered.

At these words, everyone stared intently at the Little Dot—these peerless geniuses were all destined to enter that terrifying battlefield; would they one day face this genius?

"Cough…"

Zishan Shou, uncle of the Zishan Marquis, coughed; he was of high seniority and his word carried great weight, yet now he wore a kind, gentle expression as he smiled at the Little Dot: "Child, what is the name of this village?"

"Shi Village."

"May we enter and drink some water?"

Zishan Shou remained gentle and amiable, appearing like a kind old man.

"What's wrong with the Little Dot?"

At that moment, the village adults emerged, walking toward the forest.

Eventually, powerful figures from the Zishan Clan, Luo Fu Great Marsh, and other major factions entered Shi Village, observing everywhere, especially focusing on the Willow Spirit.

The child named Jiao Peng stared intently at the Willow Spirit, as if wanting to pluck off one of its branches.

Yet he did not act immediately; after all, he had already lost to a child of Shi Village—he must first understand what mysteries this village held, whether it was a hidden clan, lest he offend someone whose wrath would bring great disaster to his race.

"Hmm, these three cauldrons are ancient, very old, and seem profoundly mysterious…"

Zishan Shou came from the Wang Hou territory; as uncle to a Marquis, his knowledge was vast.

The several cauldrons in the village radiated ancient charm, engraved with birds, beasts, fish, and insects—simple yet natural, drawing the attention of many.

"This cauldron is no ordinary object—it seems to contain flowing arrays; it is undoubtedly a treasure of great value!"

The fourth son of the Lei Marquis, a young man in his twenties named Lei Yunkun, stood tall and imposing, lightning flashing in his eyes; he stood before the several medicinal cauldrons, his expression one of astonishment.

"Where is your clan chief? The old man wishes to pay his respects."

Zishan Shou wore feathered robes and a golden crown, wisps of purple qi curling around his body; his aura was immensely powerful, yet he kept it tightly restrained, daring not to act recklessly here.

"The clan chief is in seclusion and will not emerge for some time," said Er Meng.

"Oh, I see."

Zishan Shou and Jiao Cang exchanged glances, their expressions conveying understanding—they believed this must be an extraordinary clan chief.

Finally, the group turned their gaze toward the ancient willow tree.

"Is this the ancestral spirit? What do you call it?"

Lei Yunkun asked cautiously.

Lei Lei Yunkun asked cautiously.

"Oh, just call it the Sacrificial Spirit, or address it as the Willow God."