Covering the Sky: I Prove the Great Dao Through the Gate of Immortality

The little one stopped smiling, his face hardened, and his dark eyes revealed an arrogant air of looking down on the world.

He hugged the pottery jar to his chest, put his other small hand behind his back, and stood straight in the beam of light, like a young sword drawn from its sheath.

"I know that nine out of ten of you don't like me." His voice was no longer childish, but carried a deliberately suppressed arrogance, like a young lion roaring disdainfully at a pack of wolves on the edge of a cliff.

"But so what? You can't stand me, but you can't do anything about it; you hate me to the core, but you can only stand below and watch helplessly. I love this look on your faces—wanting to tear me apart, yet unable to do anything about it!"

He paused, then raised his chin even higher, his expression full of arrogance and provocation.

"Dissatisfied? Come and fight! I'll give you a handicap, and three more moves. If you're still standing after three moves, I won't drink this jar of beast milk! But do you dare? You don't! Because you all know in your hearts that within the Bloodstained Realm, I am the king! You so-called geniuses, you so-called strongmen, are nothing but chickens and dogs before me, mere objects to be sold!"

He spoke with such fervor that the milk in the earthenware jar almost spilled out, yet he remained oblivious, becoming even more engrossed, waving his little hand with a fierce air.

"How lonely! I thought I'd finally meet some worthy opponents today and have a good fight. But alas, in this vast Eight Domains, not a single cultivator at the Blood Transformation Realm dares to take a single blow from me! You have disappointed me greatly, utterly disappointed me!"

He shook his head, his expression exactly like that of an invincible old monster lamenting the incompetence of his juniors and the lack of talent in the world.

Then he lowered his head, opened the lid of the earthenware jar, and took a large gulp of animal milk, the aroma filling the air. He smacked his lips and sighed deeply.

"It's lonely at the top... Being the number one in the world is truly... utterly boring."

The void was deathly silent.

Everyone stared blankly at the small figure still shaking its head and sighing in the pillar of light, their mouths slightly agape and their eyes almost popping out.

A five-year-old child, holding a milk can, actually said such a thing.

This isn't just arrogance, this is utterly outrageous arrogance!

In the distance, Huo Ling'er was already squatting on the ground laughing, slapping her thighs. "Hahaha... It's lonely at the top... Hahaha... He's just a baby drinking milk... Hahaha... I'm dying of laughter..."

The Fire Emperor's lips twitched; he was struggling to hold it in.

He gazed at the small figure so arrogantly high in the sky and silently sighed: This kid is incredibly cocky. But he has the right to be.

The little boy tilted his head back, his chin almost piercing the sky. His dark eyes reflected endless starlight, yet it seemed that even starlight was unworthy of his gaze.

He hugged the pottery jar to his chest, put his other small hand behind his back, and stood straight in the beam of light, like a divine sword that had just been drawn and had already shaken the world.

"I will tell you today—" His voice was no longer childish, but deliberately low and resonant, like a celestial sound from eternity ago, "I am a monument in the history of cultivation in the Eight Domains! Indelible, unsurpassable, and inviolable!"

He spoke each word slowly and deliberately, each word like a hammer blow struck with all its might, hitting the hearts of everyone present.

"My name will be recorded in history, lasting as long as heaven and earth, shining as brightly as the sun and moon! You people, whether you are geniuses or giants, whether you are ancient monarchs or ancient beasts, are nothing but a speck of dust in the long river of history before me, fleeting and forgotten!"

He paused, his smile filled with an air of arrogance that looked down upon the world.

"I am unparalleled throughout history and the future! No one has ever matched me in the past, no one can rival me now, and no one will ever surpass me in the future! You can only stand below, looking up at my back—you can't even catch up to my heels!"

He spoke with such passion that the milk in the earthenware jar almost spilled out, but he was completely oblivious and became even more engrossed in his speech.

He freed one hand and pointed at the ashen-faced leaders of the various factions below, his posture and demeanor befitting a supreme ruler looking down upon all living beings.

"You dislike me? Then stay disliked. Because in this life, the next life, and the life after that, you'll only ever be disliked! I am the mountain you can never climb, the hurdle you can never overcome, the back of your back that you can never catch up with!"

As he finished speaking, he sighed softly. There was no pride or sarcasm in that sigh, only a loneliness that comes with being at the top.

He lowered his head, opened the lid of the earthenware jar, and took a sip of the animal milk, its aroma filling the air. He smacked his lips, shook his head, as if lamenting that in this vast world, there was not a single person worthy of his attention.

The void was deathly silent.

Everyone stared blankly at the small figure still shaking its head and sighing in the pillar of light, their minds completely blank.

They've already seen arrogance.

They had never seen anything like this kind of boundless arrogance, this kind of arrogance that made them want to be etched into the annals of history.

A five-year-old child, clutching a milk can, claims he can "traverse the past, present, and future"? He says others can only "gaze at his back from afar"? This isn't just arrogance; it's... they can't find the words to describe it. Yet, no one dares to laugh, because everyone secretly feels—this child might actually be able to do it.

In the distance, Huo Ling'er had stopped laughing.

She stared blankly at the tiny figure high in the sky, a feeling she had never experienced before welling up inside her.

This brat, though he deserves a beating and is arrogant, when he stands there, he truly resembles a monument. A monument that commands respect and is insurmountable.

The Fire Emperor stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze deep and unfathomable. He looked at the little one, with only one thought in his mind: This child will surely achieve great things in the future.

It wasn't because he was particularly strong, but because he possessed the unwavering belief that he would become the best in the world. This belief is far more precious than any talent or magical technique.

Behind the open tower door, Zhisheng's lips curled into a slight smile. This child is incredibly arrogant.

However, he liked it. Because true powerhouses are always arrogant. Without arrogance, how dare they contend with the heavens? Without arrogance, how dare they defy the heavens?

The little one tilted his head back, his chin almost touching the sky, his small body standing straight in the beam of light, like a peerless divine sword that had just been tempered and forged.

He held the broken pottery jar in one arm and clasped the other behind his back, showing no sign of cowardice, only an arrogant disdain for the world and a sense of self-importance.

He took a deep breath and slowly swept his gaze over the various powerful figures and geniuses below, his expression as if he were an emperor surveying his territory or a god looking down upon the ants of the mortal world.

Then he spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of everyone present; his tone wasn't heavy, but it was like an invisible mountain, crashing down on everyone's hearts.

"because--"

He paused, then raised the pottery jar above his head and shook it, as if it were not a jar of animal milk, but a supreme token to command the world.

"I am the number one Bloodstained Realm expert in the world!"

The seven words, spoken with resounding force, echoed and buzzed in the void.

The voice contained an undeniable certainty, an unshakable confidence, and a domineering air of "Whether you accept it or not, that's the fact."

After he finished speaking, he stopped talking and simply stood quietly in the pillar of light, holding the pottery jar, looking down at the silent crowd below.

His small face showed no pride, no mockery, only a calm acceptance. It was as if he wasn't uttering a declaration—that "Covering the Sky: I Prove the Great Dao Through the Gate of Eternity" had topped the readers' vote for best multiverse novel—but rather a fact predetermined since the beginning of time.

In the void, starlight flowed silently. Those who had just been angry, ashamed, and gritting their teeth were now all silent.

It wasn't because they were intimidated, but because they suddenly realized that every word this five-year-old child said was true.

He is the number one in the Blood Removal Realm.

That being, personally recognized, was chosen from among billions of beings in the eight regions, and is unshakeable—the number one in the world.

In the distance, Huo Ling'er gazed at the small figure in the pillar of light, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she found that she couldn't say anything.

She just sighed silently in her heart: This brat is a bit arrogant, but he... does have the right to be arrogant.

The Fire Emperor stood with his hands behind his back, a slight smile playing on his lips. Looking at the little one, only two words echoed in his mind: "The younger generation is truly formidable."

Behind the open tower door, Zhisheng's lips curled into a distinct smile.

This child finally said the most important thing he needed to say. It wasn't "You're no good," it wasn't "You're just chickens and dogs," but the most direct, the most domineering, the most irrefutable statement—"I am the best in the world."

That's right. The best in the world should have that kind of confidence.

Finally, someone in the crowd could no longer contain themselves.

He was a burly man, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, with a face full of scars and eyes as wide as copper bells. His chest heaved violently, and his breathing was as heavy as that of an enraged bull.

He stared intently at the small figure holding the pottery jar high in the sky, his whole body trembling—not from fear, but from anger.

He was so angry at that outrageously arrogant attitude that he trembled all over.

"I can't take it anymore!" He suddenly burst out of the crowd, his voice like thunder, making the eardrums of the surrounding cultivators buzz. "Senior, I challenge him! I challenge him right now!"

His voice carried an almost collapsing anger.

He has lived for over forty years and practiced Buddhism for over thirty years, and he has asked himself if he has seen many madmen.

There were those prodigies who achieved fame at a young age, those arrogant scions of noble families, and those self-important reclusive masters. But he had never seen anyone like this, no, like this—a monster. A five-year-old child, clutching a milk can, milk stains still clinging to his lips, dared to point at the noses of all the heroes of the world and curse them as "worthless scoundrels," dared to claim he would "sever all boundaries of history and the future," and dared to say that others could only "look at his back from afar."

How can there be such an arrogant person in this world? How dare he do that? What gives him the right?

The burly man's mind was in chaos. Anger surged within him like magma, burning him to the point of almost losing his mind. He knew the child was incredibly strong, knew what the force of a single arm swing of 120,000 jin meant, and knew that going up against him would most likely be humiliating. But he couldn't bear it. He'd rather be knocked down, rather be slapped away, than stand there, head tilted back, listening to a baby still drinking milk say, "You can only look at my back from afar."

That would be worse than killing him.

"I want to take on the challenge too!" Another person stepped forward, their face ashen, teeth clenched. "Count me in!"

"And me!"

"I can't take this anymore! They're so arrogant, I want to punch them!"

One voice after another exploded from the crowd, spreading rapidly like a chain reaction.

Those challengers who were still hesitating, weighing their options, and concerned about saving face were now enraged by that boundless arrogance. Their eyes turned red, their breathing became heavy, and their fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

They no longer care about winning or losing.

What they cared about was not letting that doll continue to stand there, looking down at them with that condescending gaze, speaking to them in that "you're all trash" tone. Even if they couldn't beat him, they had to fight. Even if they were slapped away, they would still spit in his face.

This is a matter of dignity, a matter of face, and the last stand of these people who have lived for decades or even centuries.

In the void, the challengers' momentum reached its peak at this moment. Like a volcano about to erupt, the long-suppressed magma finally found its outlet, ready to burst forth at any moment and engulf the small figure high in the sky.

The voice of the Sage of Wisdom emanated from within the tower once more, this time more solemn and resonant than before, as if the laws of the entire Void God Realm were trembling with his words.

"Within the Eight Domains, any living being, whether you are here now or a newcomer who will enter the Realm of the Void Gods in the future, can challenge the Beast Milk Little Tyrant."

Upon hearing this, those in the crowd who had just been hesitating, observing, or angry suddenly had a glint in their eyes.

No restrictions on identity, race, or time. Anyone who dares and believes they have the ability can take on the challenge. This is a rule that is both extremely fair and extremely cruel. Fair because it gives everyone a chance; cruel because it only gives one person a chance.

"The three-day period is up to you." The voice of the Sage of Wisdom continued to echo, like a pronouncement of the Heavenly Dao, unalterable and inviolable. "Within these three days, anyone may step forward, without limit on the number of times or the order. Victory grants entry, defeat expels. If, after the three days, no one can defeat him, then the title of the number one in the Blood Realm will be established."

Three days.

Enough for countless people to rush forward, and enough for that small figure to prove himself time and time again with his fists. This wasn't a fair, drawn-out battle, but in this world, there is never absolute fairness. The throne of the world's number one should rightfully belong to the strongest.

If one cannot even last three days, then one does not deserve this title.

"If anyone succeeds in the challenge, the title of the number one in the Blood Refining Realm will immediately change hands." The Sage's voice remained calm, but beneath that calm lay absolute control over the rules. "The House of the Primordial Land will be fully opened. And the one who succeeds in the challenge will obtain a Celestial Treasure Technique and will never accept another challenge again."

This last sentence was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirring up towering waves.

The successful challenger will no longer accept any challenges. What does this mean? It means that as long as you win this round, you will forever be the number one in the Blood Refining Realm, and no one can challenge your position.

The immortal techniques are yours, the glory is yours, and the tower's doors will be wide open for you. This is a decisive deal, a chance to become a god in one battle. Win, and you'll ascend to the heavens; lose, and you'll have nothing.

Everyone's eyes were red. Not from greed, not from anger, but from an almost frenzied desire. They looked at the small figure in the pillar of light, still holding the clay pot and leisurely drinking milk, their emotions incredibly complex. That was no longer "a brat who deserves a beating," but a piece of fat meat, a huge piece of fat meat. As long as they took a bite, as long as they defeated him, everything would be theirs.

Feeling the intense gazes, the little boy finally put down the pottery jar. He looked up, a rare seriousness on his face. He knew the next three days would not be easy.

He would be subjected to relentless attacks, worn down, and relentlessly assaulted by countless people. But he wasn't afraid; he simply clenched his small fists and took a deep breath.

"Come on," he said in a childish voice, but those two words contained a determination beyond his years. "I'm right here, waiting for you."

In the void, starlight suddenly blazed, as if heralding the start of a great battle that would last three days and three nights. The challengers, meanwhile, were already itching for action, eager to try their skills. A storm was about to sweep across this primordial land.

And that little guy who's still drinking milk is about to use his fists to show the world what it means to be invincible in the Blood Transformation Realm.