Chapter 242

"What? Is that the ancient beast Zhu Yan?"

When Zhu Yan changed its form and revealed its ferocious, demonic aspect, both Zishan Shou and the Lei family's experts trembled involuntarily, while the younger generation felt a primal, soul-deep terror.

They had never felt so close to death.

That terrifying, primordial beastly aura filled the entire void in an instant; a mere pressure downward would doom them all.

This was an essential crushing—no resistance was possible.

Ancient beasts, fully grown primordial entities, could wipe out entire tribes of tens of millions with a single movement; they were not beings to be provoked.

Yet now, right here in Shi Village, there stood an ancient beast.

"How is this possible? How is this possible? A fully matured ancient beast, Zhu Yan—how could it be here? Even if we combined all our tribes, it would obliterate us in a single strike!"

Zishan Hou's uncle no longer held his former authority, his former deep aura, his former radiance like a purple sun—he felt utter powerlessness. One swipe from that giant beast, and they would all perish.

"That one is an ancient beast—what about that little red bird? Is it one too?"

Suddenly, a terrifying thought rose in his mind, sending shockwaves through his soul.

What were the origins of that little red bird and that young man?

"Comrade Zhu Yan, these fools may be stupid—even being devoured by the Devouring Sparrow wouldn't be unwarranted—but let them live. Let them play and spar with the village children."

Fang Yu's voice echoed through the void, speaking to Zhu Yan, his gaze fixed on the figures from Zishan, Luo Fu Marsh, the Lei Clan, the Golden Wolf Tribe, and Yun Tian Palace.

Undeniably, ignorance breeds boldness—especially that little Jiao Peng child, barely a few years old, boldly demanding a branch from the Willow God.

You're this brave? Does your whole tribe know?

Fang Yu slew the Devouring Sparrow, eliminating a catastrophe from the Great Wilderness—but among humans, some deserved to be devoured.

"Hmph."

Hearing Fang Yu's words, Zhu Yan reverted to its original form, yet it let out a cold snort toward the tribal cultivators, silencing everyone instantly.

"We have been disrespectful, deeply disrespectful."

Zishan Shou of the Zishan Tribe bowed tremblingly, respectfully apologizing.

The experts from other tribes also trembled, desperate to leave at once, no longer daring to stay another moment.

"Since the children have come, let them spar with one another. Little Not-Point, you may also test yourself against the children from beyond."

Fang Yu's voice rang through the void—he was still in cultivation and contemplation—but his words halted everyone who had wished to flee immediately.

Immediately after he spoke, a vast tide of sword qi surged through the void, manifesting as a sea of swords, rolling and roaring, transforming the entire void into a kingdom of blades, instantly stunning them all.

"What? This elder is a Sword Immortal? His cultivation base is this terrifying?"

"So much sword qi, so vast and overwhelming—it seems a single motion could shatter mountains and earth. This is a true hermit sage!"

"Too terrifying! What did we think we were doing? We nearly abandoned ourselves in this secluded village! This Sword Immortal's strength dwarfs our tribal lords by countless times!"

"This truly is a secluded village of masters. No wonder even the ancient beast Zhu Yan came here to cultivate. This elder's sword Dao alone could obliterate ten thousand eons."

The elder experts from the Lei Clan, Zishan, and Luo Fu Marsh were shaken to their cores—beneath this rolling river of sword qi, their clan's divine arts were utterly useless. If this elder struck them, he could annihilate them all in a single breath.

Cold sweat beaded on their brows, and they felt a grim relief—they had not yet dared to act rashly, or they would all be dead.

Stay low. Stay low. Must stay low.

The Great Wilderness held such a secluded tribe—they had nearly acted recklessly, nearly died.

"We naturally obey the elder's words. Jiao Peng, spar with this village's hero."

The leader of Luo Fu Marsh stepped forward respectfully, speaking to Jiao Peng, who was stunned and terrified.

"Yes…"

Earlier he had been arrogant beyond measure; now he was terrified. Jiao Peng was truly afraid—he recalled how he had demanded a branch from a god. It was utterly foolish.

This village already housed a Supreme-level ancient beast—the Willow God was undoubtedly a deity. And he, a Blood Moving Realm cultivator, had dared to demand a deity's branch?

Fortunately, that deity had no intention of killing him—or he would already be dead.

So now, hearing of the duel, Jiao Peng resolved to use every technique he possessed, to show his worth, and to spar properly.

"Pay attention—I'm starting!"

Jiao Peng bowed to Shi Hao, his arms glowing with runes that flared rapidly, enveloping his entire body in a faint aura of divine radiance.

Little Not-Point Shi Hao nodded, lunging through the air, his body erupting in rosy light, divine radiance surging as he refined the essence of heaven and earth—his palms turned pure white.

Their palms collided—Jiao Peng was flung sideways, his palms split open. Had two ferocious jade dragons not surfaced on his arms at the last moment, his finger bones would have shattered catastrophically.

In an instant, the entire scene fell utterly silent—not even a pin could drop.

Though some had foreseen this outcome, the reality still stunned them.

Jiao Peng had already unleashed his divine technique, multiplying his power—but he still could not withstand Little Not-Point.

Is this little one not too formidable?

"Watch out!"

Lei Mingyuan, the Lei Clan's peerless genius, his eyes blazing, his body surging with energy, formed a rune in his palm—lightning interwoven—as he thrust forward.

The void crackled and sparked, lightning steaming upward—a thick bolt of lightning shot skyward, striking toward Shi Hao.

The young and old of Shi Village frowned with worry, fearing Little Not-Point would be struck—but he shook his arms, runes blazing, divine radiance surging, multiplying his offensive power.

Waves of bone runes appeared, flashing before his arms like golden characters, etched into the void, directly blocking the lightning.

"Take this!"

Jiao Peng struck again—his palm revealed an ancient character, dazzlingly brilliant. With a boom, a gray-brown jade dragon emerged from the rune, lunging at Little Not-Point.

Shi Hao remained calm, his hand gliding through the void—a moon rose, casting brilliant rosy light.

The gray dragon, thick as a water barrel, its scales dense, radiating ancient, weathered power, shattered upon meeting the silver moon—runes exploded everywhere.

A soft cry rang out—the silver moon blazed fiercely, from which burst a ferocious avian creature, its form instantly swelling like a cloud, stretching across the battlefield, terrifyingly fierce.

"What is that? The ancient demonic bird Qing Tian Peng? Such a powerful divine technique!"

The experts from the Golden Wolf Tribe, Luo Fu Marsh, and elsewhere were astounded.

They sensed a powerful treasure art, in no way inferior to their own inheritance, and one could well imagine just how mysterious this village truly was.

"It is indeed a supreme treasure art, not beneath our Luo Fu Great Swamp's. This time, Peng'er is in danger."

The experts of Luo Fu Great Swamp wore solemn expressions; he had a feeling that within this mysterious village, the treasure arts numbered more than one — that little child should still know others, but because he was too young, he had not yet had the chance to learn them.

And once that little child grew up, he would be unrivaled under heaven.