Shenming’s face was streaked with black line after black line. He listened to the Divine Child’s endless stream of gibberish and could not refute a single word of it — after all, he could hardly be bothered to argue with a toddler who looked two or three years old.
“I’ll stomp on your lungs!”
“After I’m done, your own mother won’t recognize you, kid — she’ll call you a fat pig-head!”
“Fighting me? Even the King of Heaven himself couldn’t manage it. And a little squirt like you wants to cross swords with this great lord? You’re leagues and leagues away!”
The chubby boy was subduing his opponent with one hand while muttering away without pause, making pronouncements with the world-weary air of an elder — never mind that he hadn’t even bothered to look at how tiny he himself was.
Everyone was truly at a loss for words. This had begun as what should have been a grand clash of dragons and tigers — one that might even have drawn out the ancient supreme beings from among the seven great Forbidden Zones of Life. And yet no one could have imagined it degenerating to this point.
Many people wanted to laugh. This chubby little thing was genuinely something else — no bigger than a bean, and the words he used and the habits he had — where on earth had he picked them up? One couldn’t help but find it irresistibly amusing.
“I’ll stomp on your lungs, pummel your stomach, then reward you with two pancake slaps.” The chubby boy, though sealed within the Immortal Source, had plenty of variety — not a single line repeated.
“What, still not convinced? Young people are truly stubborn. Watch how this old man of mine sets you straight.” The Divine Child hollered excitedly, cycling through the techniques that Li Tian, the Black Emperor, Ye Fan, and the others had used against him, deploying them one after another with tireless enthusiasm, having the time of his life.
Having been suppressed by others for so many years, he had finally found himself a punching bag — and one he could squeeze to his heart’s content. He could beat this one as hard as he liked. It made him so delighted he was practically bubbling over with joy, hopping about gleefully.
“Rotten brat! That’ll teach you to be so stubborn, to keep refusing to give in! I’ll thrash you until you kneel and sing your submission the moment you see me!”
Listening to the Divine Child’s increasingly insufferable taunts, Shenming’s complexion grew darker and darker. This was happening right in front of him as a father — his child was being beaten this brazenly and shamelessly. Such arrogance and such recklessness. He had never experienced anything like it in his entire life.
“I’ll stomp on you! Stomp you into a pig-head!” The chubby boy thrashed about within the Immortal Source, crashing it again and again into Mingren’s face, leaving him with a swollen nose and bruised eyes — as though he had been embraced by a bear.
Shenming was still enduring it. He said not a word, watching in silence as his own son was beaten, treating it as a form of tempering. Mingren had had things far too easy since birth — he felt that suffering some setbacks while young was not a bad thing.
“Little thing, do you submit? If you still refuse, I won’t just beat you until your father can’t bring himself to claim you — I’ll beat you until your grandfather doesn’t dare recognize you either.” The chubby boy bragged shamelessly.
“You little squirt — I refuse to submit!” Mingren had long since reached his absolute limit. He was the offspring of a supreme being — when had he ever been subjected to such oppression? He was nearly quivering with rage.
“Crack!” “Crack!” …
Another round of sound thrashing followed, and still Shenming endured, not uttering a single word. But inwardly, the taste was deeply unpleasant. The grandson of a supreme being being bullied like this — it was perhaps the first time in all the ages that something like this had happened.
“You’re really quite pathetic — you can’t take a hit at all. From the look of you, you’re not going to last much longer, are you?” The chubby boy said with great earnestness and anticipation. “Why don’t you take me as your master? I’m definitely stronger than your father.”
Good heavens — what was he saying?! Shenming’s complexion darkened further. He was on the edge of losing his composure… and yet he still endured.
“You little squirt, you fat runt — you and I are not finished with this! We will fight to the death!” Mingren shouted furiously, yet he had been pinned to the ground and could not move a single inch.
“Kid, you are truly beyond help. This lord here gave you the chance, and you failed to appreciate it. If you don’t accept me as your honored master, I will destroy you!” The Divine Child threatened with vicious relish, though being so small rather undermined his intimidating air. He continued shouting: “Come under my tutelage, and in the future I will not only beat your father to the ground — I can flatten your grandfather too.” As the Divine Child grew more excited, spittle began flying from his mouth.
Shenming’s complexion could now best be described as the bottom of a blackened pot. Moments ago he had still been thinking how exceptional his son was among the offspring of supreme beings — unparalleled in the world. And yet his son was being thrashed like this.
What was worse, this chubby little thing was so utterly insufferable — beating his son with one hand while mocking him, the father, in the same breath. And even more infuriating still, even Shenming’s own father had been dragged into it.
This was truly suffocating — and there was nothing he could do about it. The brat was far too young. If he had been an adult, Shenming would have already brought a palm down on him and been done with it.
Never in his life had Shenming felt so aggrieved as he did today. He was a profoundly proud man, supremely confident in his own invincibility among all who shared his generation, and yet here he was in this humiliating predicament — his son being beaten right in front of his face.
“Good, not bad — worthy of this lord’s personal instruction. You’ve finally made a little progress.” From a distance, the great black dog reappeared and opened with precisely this kind of encouraging remark.
The Divine Child paid the Black Emperor no mind — he harbored a grievance against it for bullying him before — but he couldn’t suppress his own excitement, and continued on happily, carrying forward his grand enterprise of thrashing people.
“Enough — Mingren has lost this bout!” Shenming finally could endure no more. He felt that calling it tempering his son’s character was less accurate than calling it a test of his own patience. This chubby boy had no filter whatsoever. If it went on like this, the brat would not only be insulting the two of them, father and son — he would soon be showing gross disrespect to his supreme elders as well. That could not be tolerated. A supreme being’s dignity could not be profaned — not even by a child.
When Mingren was pulled back with a gesture, he immediately fainted on the spot — having been driven to it by sheer indignation. There were prohibitions on his body, so ordinarily no one could truly harm him, but this overwhelming humiliation had been more than he could bear internally.
Everyone looked at one another in speechless bewilderment. They had enjoyed the spectacle enormously, yet the shock within their hearts was still immensely powerful — especially now that things had quieted down and they had time to think it over. The more they reflected, the more unsettled they felt.
That had been the offspring of a supreme being, and yet he had been suppressed with casual ease — not even a match. What on earth was this chubby little thing’s background? It was too terrifying.
By this point, a number of people had recognized the Immortal Source and word had already spread, becoming common knowledge. People were even more shaken — this was a heaven-defying immortal treasure. It was unlikely that even within the Forbidden Zones such things could be found in abundance.
An Pu fell into a long silence, his thoughts drifting to the ancient supreme beings. This child must be their descendant — nothing less could explain such a monstrous existence, one that defied all reason and logic.
Born a saint — in theory such a thing was possible, but if someone like that truly existed, it was beyond horrifying.
“How about it — do you concede defeat? Then first slap yourself, and then offer your apologies.” The Black Emperor said in its brazen, swaggering manner. Faced with the beings of the Forbidden Zones, this sort of attitude was enough to leave people stupefied.
Many people immediately understood — the Divine Child’s earlier performance had everything to do with this great black dog. Their styles were similar, with a distinct resemblance.
Could he be the offspring of Wushi? The thought crossed everyone’s minds simultaneously, and every single person felt their hair stand on end.
“What a wonderful child — and ruined just like that.” People lamented. Yet the moment the great black dog bared its teeth, everyone fell silent. That dog was too strange and too ferocious.
Shenming’s expression remained unreadable. He did not concede. He said, “Did I not say there was still one more child?”
At this point in proceedings, was there any child in the world who could surpass the Divine Child? Almost everyone was disbelieving, and every face turned strange. They assumed he was merely refusing to back down — that he might perhaps be consumed by humiliation and suddenly decide to start a massacre.
Yet Shenming’s face was perfectly calm. He made a beckoning gesture behind him, and two children came forward together. One of them was particularly striking — in addition to the swirling Chaotic Qi, he emanated an aura of primordial savage beasts.
What was especially notable was that when Shenming placed his hand on the child’s head and gently stroked it, the aura radiating from the child intensified further — like something that had slaughtered tens of millions of living beings, horrifying beyond measure.
Mingren and the other child were both disregarded. Every eye converged on this one child alone, for he made people feel a deep, instinctive unease.
This child also appeared to be around six or seven years old — red lips, white teeth, eyes like gemstones, and a very handsome face. He was an exceedingly endearing little fellow.
What people could not understand was why such a torrential killing intent emanated from him — completely at odds with his bearing and temperament. It was as though two different souls inhabited a single body.
“This is my elder brother.” Shenming said candidly, without any concealment whatsoever. But the moment those words fell, an uproar erupted. Everyone found it inconceivable — how could a child be the elder brother of a Great Sage-level imperial son?
“Long ago he experienced a shattering great battle — what your human race calls the Dark Upheaval. He was wounded in that conflict and was reduced to this state, indistinguishable from a small child.” Shenming stated plainly.
He made it clear — the Divine Child’s origins were peculiar, and he could no longer truly be called a child. Summoning a child of a different nature to take the field was therefore not a violation of the agreement.
A true imperial son — one who had once dominated the world and reigned supreme — now appeared in this form. How much divine might remained in him? Everyone was both tense and deeply eager.
Ye Fan raised a hand and restrained the eager-to-fight Divine Child, choosing not to let him act. By instinct alone, he sensed that the extraordinary imperial son across from him was not to be trifled with.
Though the man had been reduced to the form of a child, his fundamental essence had likely not diminished greatly. It was still there. Given the chance, he might well make the Divine Child suffer.
“Let him come on over — we have a different person for our side.” The Black Emperor said, standing upright, its two great paws folded behind its back, wearing an expression of absolute superiority. Yet no matter how one looked at it, it was simply begging to be beaten — stirring in everyone the overwhelming urge to give it a thorough thrashing.
The small boy named Shenyou walked forward. His murderous aura was boundless — his gaze was innocent and his eyes were clear, yet the energy radiating from his body made many elder figures tremble.
The Black Emperor called upon Xiao Nannan and asked her to step forward.
“But Nannan doesn’t know how to fight.” The little girl was a little embarrassed, unsure of what to do, her big eyes blinking. She looked to Ye Fan for help.
Ye Fan smiled gently and said, “Just go forward. Treat him as a playmate — you don’t need to do anything.”
Xiao Nannan stepped forward. She looked to be around two or three years old — like a little porcelain doll, with large eyes, black pupils and white whites. The terrifying aura radiating from Shenyou had absolutely no effect on her whatsoever.
“Strike!” Shenming commanded under his breath.
A cold gleam flashed through Shenyou’s eyes, as though something within him had awakened. In an instant, a vast, ocean-like killing intent erupted from his entire being — enough to cause the sky and earth to crack and shatter in a single moment.
Yet when he raised his small hand and charged toward Xiao Nannan, he suddenly shuddered. Terror crept into his eyes.
At that moment, many people saw it — behind Xiao Nannan, an awe-inspiring scene had manifested. Countless bodies lay fallen across an ancient battlefield; Great Emperors and Monarchs seemed to have perished there, and the radiant, brilliant light of those ascending to immortality burst forth. She seemed to have swept through all nine heavens and ten earths, standing supreme and unrivaled, striding across ten thousand ages — and then she had soared up into immortality.