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

This little guy, who was still drinking milk, could sway 120,000 jin with one arm, breaking records in the Void God Realm one after another. He was selected by that being from among billions of beings in the eight domains and appointed as the number one in the world.

His strength has undergone the most rigorous test. If someone in the Eight Domains can truly defeat him within the Blood-Moving Realm—then what else could that person be but the undisputed number one in the world?

Those who were just moments ago angry, ashamed, and gritting their teeth suddenly calmed down.

They realized that the rule set by the Sage, which seemed to give everyone a chance, was actually a way to crown the little one as "the best in the world".

Because defeating him is just too difficult.

It's so difficult it's almost impossible. And if someone could actually do it, then that person's ability wouldn't need anyone else to prove it.

He deserves that title, that immortal technique, and the open door that the tower offered him.

"So... this nursing baby is the touchstone that being uses to test 'true gold'?" someone murmured to themselves, their voice carrying a hint of realization and a touch of bitterness.

No one answered him, because the answer was self-evident.

In the distance, the Fire Emperor stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze profound. He looked at the small figure leisurely drinking milk within the pillar of light, and a thought suddenly welled up in his mind: This child, after today, will likely be renowned throughout the eight regions. Not because of his Blood Transformation Realm strength, but because he is a banner personally raised by that being.

As long as the banner stands, no one in the Eight Domains Blood-Moving Realm will dare to claim the title of number one.

Huo Ling'er stared blankly at the little one, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she found that she couldn't say anything.

She just sighed silently to herself: This brat is probably going to get even more arrogant in the future.

The little guy is no longer simply described as "strong".

His power is all-encompassing and despair-inducing, extending to every realm within the Blood Realm.

Runes, magical techniques, spirit, physical body—he reached the pinnacle of all, the very end of this path, and even beyond that end.

His mastery of runes surpasses even that of veteran cultivators who have dedicated decades to this art; his application of magical techniques is infinitely varied with every gesture, as if he were born for battle; and his mental fortitude far exceeds that of his peers, even surpassing the realm of the Blood Refining Realm.

He was like a divine weapon that had been forged and tempered a thousand times, its sharpness fully revealed, invincible.

If the Blood-Moving Realm is a vast ocean, while others are still struggling in the shallows, he has already dived into the deepest trench; if the Blood-Moving Realm is a high mountain, while others are still climbing at the foot of the mountain, he has already stood at the summit, overlooking the surging sea of ​​clouds.

No, he no longer belongs to the Blood Transfer Realm.

His power exceeded the limits of this realm and surpassed everyone's understanding of the term "Blood Transformation Realm".

He reached heights that others could never achieve in their entire lives, and at the age of five, he had already reached them; he traversed realms that others dared not even dream of.

He didn't become king in the Blood Transformation Realm; he redefined the Blood Transformation Realm because of his existence.

"Uncle Trial Tower, as the one being challenged, why don't you ask me if I'm willing to accept their challenge?" The little one, holding the pottery jar, looked up and shouted at the open tower door, his face full of grievance that "this is unfair."

He's not the kind of pushover who can be easily bullied. Why should those people challenge him whenever they want, while he doesn't even have the right to say "no"?

The little guy is very clever; he had already figured out some of the meaning from Uncle Li's subtle hints.

He knew that the owner of this house had a close relationship with Uncle Li, and they might even be the same person.

That's why he dared to speak to this unfathomable "Uncle of the Trial Tower" in such a familiar tone.

"I may be the best in the world, but I'm not the best target. If you want to hit me, at least ask me if I want to be hit!" The little guy got more and more excited as he spoke, puffing out his chest and raising his chin so high it almost seemed to pierce the sky.

"I'm very busy! I still need to drink beast milk, chase birds, and go back to sleep. How can I have time to play with you all one by one? If you can't afford to lose, and we have to play a three-day, three-night war of attrition, wouldn't I be exhausted to death?"

He spoke with such self-righteousness, as if he were not the one being challenged, but rather a busy emperor reviewing memorials, impatiently waving away those tactless ministers.

The crowd below listened in stunned silence, yet they also felt—there seemed to be some truth to it? He was the best in the world, not the best punching bag.

Why should you be able to fight whenever you want, and others can't refuse? The problem is, these are the rules set by that being. Go talk to that being about it! Why are you making a fuss with us?

The Sage of Wisdom fell silent for a moment. That brief silence made everyone in the void hold their breath.

They didn't know how this unfathomable being would respond to the brat's rude question. Would it erupt in fury? Would it simply laugh it off? Or...?

"What do you intend to do?" The voice of the Sage of Wisdom came from inside the tower, still as calm as still water, but beneath that calmness, there seemed to be a very faint trace of helplessness.

He was stumped by the child's question.

No matter how much he planned, he hadn't anticipated that this little guy would try to bargain with him at this crucial moment. The challenger wanted to challenge him, and he turned around and questioned why no one had asked him if he was willing. This logic, though unreasonable, doesn't seem wrong upon closer examination.

The little boy's eyes lit up immediately upon hearing this. He hugged the earthenware jar to his chest, freed one hand, and counted on his fingers, saying seriously, "First, I need to drink animal milk. I can't fight on an empty stomach. So before the challenge, give me ten or eight jars of the best-tasting animal milk so I can eat and drink my fill." He paused, then held up a second finger. "Second, I need to rest. No fighting in waves, one fight followed by a rest. I can fight again only when I've rested enough. Otherwise, I refuse to fight!"

The crowd below was completely petrified. In all their years, they had never seen such a brazen challenge to the rules.

The challenger hasn't even fought yet, and he's already making demands? He wants beast healing? He wants rest? This isn't the best in the world, this is the biggest jerk in the world!

But that being has not yet refused. They are waiting, waiting for the Sage's answer.

Zhisheng was silent for a moment. Then, his voice drifted over, still indifferent, but with a hint of barely perceptible amusement: "Alright."

A single word, spoken lightly, yet it resonated like a thunderclap. He agreed? He actually agreed? A challenger, managing to bargain with the rule-makers before the challenge even began, and even gain an advantage?

……

Suddenly, a crack appeared in the void, and chaotic mist surged, revealing a massive battlefield.

The battlefield was square, its boundaries woven from dazzling runes, and its interior space was vast enough to accommodate thousands of troops.

A beam of light rose from the center of the battlefield, engulfing both the little one and a boy.

The young man was tall and straight, with a cold and stern face, and his silver battle suit shone brightly under the starlight.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze sharp as lightning, a confident smile playing on his lips. He glanced at the small figure opposite him holding the pottery jar, slightly raised his chin, and spoke in a clear, slightly arrogant voice.

"Kid, remember this: the one who defeated you is Ye from the Stone Kingdom..."

His voice abruptly stopped.

Because the "child" didn't even wait for him to finish speaking.

The moment the beam of light dissipated, the little one shot out like a cannonball.

He stomped his feet on the ground, creating a spiderweb-like crater in the battlefield. His small figure left a trail of afterimages, moving so fast that even the eye could not keep up.

"call--"

The fist whistled through the air, like the roar of an ancient beast. The boy's pupils constricted, and he instinctively raised his hand to block. But that small fist was ten times faster and a hundred times heavier than he had anticipated.

"boom!"

The fist slammed solidly into the boy's crossed arms, producing a dull thud.

The boy's body flew backward like a kite with a broken string, carving a deep trench in the battlefield before finally coming to a stop upon hitting the boundary runes.

His arms were numb, his thumbs were split open, and blood dripped from his fingertips. The confident smile on his face had vanished without a trace, replaced by disbelief and horror.

The little one withdrew his fist, blew away non-existent dust from it, then picked up the pottery jar, lowered his head, and took a sip of animal milk.

He looked up, his silly grin full of smugness.

"Ye what Ye? I have no interest in knowing." He said in a childish voice, but the arrogance in his tone was more grating than any adult's provocation. "Anyway, you're about to lose, what's the use of knowing the name? It's a waste of my time."

The boy's face was ashen. He struggled to his feet, his body glowing with runes, clearly preparing to unleash some powerful magic technique. But the little one gave him no chance. The tiny figure vanished from its spot once more, and in the next instant, it appeared before the boy.

Another punch, simple and unadorned, without any fancy techniques, only extreme speed and extreme force.

"boom!"

The boy was sent flying again. This time, he didn't even have time to parry before he was hit squarely in the chest. It was as if he had been struck head-on by an ancient beast. He spat out a mouthful of blood and immediately lost consciousness.

The runes at the edge of the battlefield flickered, teleporting the unconscious boy away.

The void was deathly silent. From the start to the end of the battle, it lasted only two breaths. The young man hadn't even finished announcing his name, nor had he had time to unleash his special technique, before he was defeated.

They were utterly and completely defeated, utterly powerless to fight back.

The little one stood in the center of the battlefield, holding a clay pot. He looked down at his fist, then looked up at the dumbfounded challengers. A helpless expression appeared on his little face, as if to say, "I have already been very lenient."

"Next one," he said in a childish voice, as if he were saying, "Another can of animal milk, please."

The Fire Emperor gazed at the small figure on the battlefield, effortlessly blasting away his opponent while clutching a pottery jar, a complex light flashing in his eyes. It wasn't jealousy, nor fear, but a heartfelt admiration and praise. He had lived most of his life, seen countless prodigies, but never a child like this. Five years old, at the Blood Transformation Realm, yet already standing at the pinnacle of that realm, even exceeding its limits. Those so-called young geniuses, heirs of noble families, princes of ancient kingdoms—they couldn't even withstand a single move before him.

"As expected of the number one Blood Refining Realm expert, truly a child hero." The Fire Emperor said softly, his tone devoid of any perfunctoriness, only sincere recognition. He paused, then added, a hint of emotion in his voice, "Such a child, I'm afraid, will be hard to find another like him in the Eight Domains."

Huo Ling'er stood beside him. Hearing her father's words, she opened her mouth, wanting to say something in rebuttal, but looking at the small figure still leisurely drinking milk on the battlefield, she silently closed her mouth. She had to admit that her father was right. This brat, although he deserved a beating and was arrogant, did indeed have the strength and the qualifications to be worthy of the title "Number One Under Heaven."

The Fire Emperor turned his head, glanced at his daughter, and smiled slightly. "Ling'er, you are about the same age as him, you might as well get closer to him in the future. Such a friend is worth making."

Huo Ling'er pouted and muttered under her breath, "Who wants to get close to him... a baby drinking milk..." But her gaze couldn't help but drift back towards the battlefield.

In the void, the battlefield, formed from chaotic mist, floated silently, its boundary runes flowing, like a solitary island surrounded by stars. The little boy stood in the center of the battlefield, one hand holding a broken pottery jar, the other behind his back, his small frame ramrod straight. His robes were spotless from the battle, his silly grin still bright, but in his dark, round eyes gleamed a light that commanded respect.

"Next."

The two words, spoken in a childish voice, floated lightly in the air, yet they felt like an invisible mountain pressing down on the hearts of every challenger present.

The first challenger, the genius of the Ye family of the Stone Kingdom, was sent flying with a single punch before he could even finish announcing his name. In that split second, many people didn't even see how the little guy made his move. They only saw a blur flash by, a muffled thud, and then the silver-clad youth, like a kite with a broken string, crashed into the boundary runes, spitting blood and losing consciousness.

Clean and efficient, without any unnecessary delays.

This is true invincibility at the Blood Transformation Realm. It wasn't something you could boast about, nor was it something you could claim through the patronage of some being; it was earned through every single punch, through sheer hard-fought battles.

The challengers who had been filled with anger, shame, and gritted teeth just moments before fell silent. They suddenly realized that this little boy, still drinking milk, wasn't bluffing or putting on an act. He truly had the ability and the right to stand in that position, looking down upon them all.

After a brief silence, a golden light shot into the sky from the crowd.

That was the transformed form of a Golden-Winged Roc, with a robust physique, a sharply defined face, and golden eyes with vertical pupils, exuding the coldness and savagery unique to ferocious birds. Behind him, a pair of golden wings fluttered slightly, each flap creating a gust of wind, causing the void to tremble slightly beneath them. He was a direct descendant of the Golden-Winged Roc clan of the Primordial Divine Mountain, with the bloodline of an ancient ferocious bird flowing through his veins. Even at the Blood Transformation Realm, he was capable of fighting against Spirit Transformation cultivators, and was hailed as the leading figure of the younger generation of the Primordial Divine Mountain.

"Kid, you're too arrogant." The Golden-Winged Roc King's voice was deep and resonant, like the clang of metal echoing in the void. His golden eyes held no anger, only the cold indifference of a predator scrutinizing its prey. "My Golden-Winged Roc clan never bullies the weak. But since you dare stand in that position, I'll show you what it means to be outmatched."

As he spoke, his wings suddenly unfurled, revealing a vast expanse of golden feathers covered in runes. Each feather was like divine metal, sharp and incomparably powerful. His aura surged, and an overwhelming pressure, befitting an ancient ferocious bird, erupted from his body, causing the runes at the edge of the battlefield to tremble slightly.

"The Roc Clan's Golden Wing Slash is said to be unmatched among its peers," someone whispered in the crowd, a hint of anticipation in their voice. "This battle might be quite interesting."

The little boy tilted his head, looking at the golden figure descending from the sky. There was no fear on his face, only an excitement that said, "Finally, someone decent has arrived." He hugged the pottery jar tighter to his chest, freeing his right hand to beckon to the Golden-Winged Roc King.

"Come on, little bird. I'll let you make the first move."

The Golden-Winged Roc King's pupils suddenly contracted. The words "little bird" pierced his proud heart like a steel needle. In his clan, he was a pampered prodigy, a darling of the heavens. Who dared to address him with such contempt? Rage surged in his chest, but he did not lose his reason. He took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, which transformed into an even colder killing intent.

"court death."

As soon as he finished speaking, his figure disappeared from the spot.

Fast, incredibly fast. The Golden-Winged Roc is renowned for its speed; among its peers, almost no one can keep up with it. The Golden-Winged Roc King took this advantage to the extreme, his figure leaving golden afterimages in the void as he pounced on the little one from all directions, making it impossible to distinguish which was the real body and which was the afterimage.

"This is the Golden-Winged Roc Clan's 'Myriad Shadows Illusion.' It's said that when cultivated to its peak, it can create tens of thousands of clones, each containing 30% of the original's attack power," someone exclaimed, their eyes filled with shock. "This young Roc King has already cultivated dozens of clones at such a young age; his talent is unparalleled in the world."

Dozens of golden figures simultaneously pounced on the little one, each carrying a sharp aura capable of tearing through the void. The scene was magnificent and terrifying, as if dozens of golden-winged roc birds were spreading their wings at the same time, about to tear the tiny figure to shreds.

The little boy stood still, clutching the pottery jar. His eyes were half-closed, as if he were dozing off, or perhaps watching a performance that had nothing to do with him. The golden figures drew closer and closer, until their sharp wings touched his robes.

Then, he moved.

There were no elaborate magical techniques, no complex runes, just a single punch. A simple, unadorned punch, devoid of any fancy skills, possessing only extreme speed and immense power. The punch unleashed a deafening blast, shattering the very air and creating black cracks in the void itself.

"boom!"

A deafening roar shook the entire void. The dozens of golden figures shattered under the impact of the fist's force, transforming into a shower of golden light. The Golden-Winged Roc King's true form was blasted away by the aftershocks of the fist's force, the runes on his golden wings dimming considerably, and a trace of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

He steadied himself, his golden eyes filled with disbelief. His pride and joy, his years of painstakingly honed Shadow Clone Technique, were utterly ineffective against that child. He hadn't even seen how the other man attacked; he only felt a blur before his eyes as an unparalleled force crashed down, crushing all his offensives to dust.

"You're very fast," the little one said in a childish voice, with a hint of genuine admiration in his tone. "Unfortunately, you're too weak. It's like a tickle when you hit me."

The Golden-Winged Roc King's face flushed red, then turned purple, and finally blue. He had never suffered such humiliation, never been spoken to in such a tone about his strength. He roared, his body ignited with runes, and golden flames erupted from his body, enveloping him completely.

"Golden-Winged Heaven-Burning Slash!"

He unleashed the Golden-Winged Roc Clan's most powerful offensive technique, condensing all his strength into a golden blade of light, which he slashed towards Little One. The blade of light was tens of feet long and incomparably sharp. Wherever it passed, the void was torn open with a huge rift, from which chaotic mist surged out, shrouding the entire battlefield in a hazy fog.

This attack had already surpassed the scope of the Blood Transformation Realm, faintly touching the threshold of the Spirit Transformation Realm. Among the crowd, the Venerables and Kings' expressions changed slightly. They hadn't expected that this Golden-Winged Roc King could unleash such a terrifying attack while only at the Blood Transformation Realm. Such talent would be considered top-tier even within the Eight Domains.

The little one simply tilted its head and then stretched out a hand. A tiny, fair hand met the golden blade of light that was tens of feet long.

"Boom!"

With a deafening roar, the golden blade of light, powerful enough to cleave mountains, was caught steadily by that small hand. The golden light struggled frantically in the little one's palm, trying to break free, but it was like an eel caught in iron pincers, unable to move.

The little boy glanced down at the struggling golden blade of light in his palm, a "that's interesting" expression appearing on his face. Then, he clenched his fist, and the golden blade of light shattered like fragile glass in his palm, turning into a shower of golden light that drifted away.

The Golden-Winged Roc King was stunned. He stared blankly at the small figure still rubbing his hands, his mind a complete blank. His strongest attack, his trump card, his pride, were so fragile in front of that child. The opponent hadn't even used any magical techniques or runes; he had crushed his Golden-Winged Heaven-Burning Slash with his bare hands, relying solely on the strength of his physical body.

How...how is this possible?

The little boy looked up at the Golden-Winged Roc King's blank face, grinned, and revealed a bright smile with a missing front tooth. He picked up the pottery jar, took a sip of beast milk, smacked his lips, and then said in a childish voice.

"Little bird, you've lost. Go down now."

As soon as he finished speaking, he flashed in front of the Golden-Winged Roc King, slapped him on the shoulder, and sent him off the battlefield. The Golden-Winged Roc King did not resist, nor did he have the ability to resist. He was simply teleported away in a daze, standing at the edge of the crowd, his golden eyes filled with confusion.

He lost. He lost completely, and he accepted it wholeheartedly. That child was stronger than him, far stronger.

After the Golden-Winged Roc King's defeat, a long silence fell over the crowd. Those challengers who had been so eager just moments before now wilted like eggplants after a frost. They finally understood that the little creature still nursing was not someone they could challenge.

But the challenge continues. Three days remain; as long as no one defeats him, he will forever remain the number one in the Blood Refining Realm. The allure of immortal techniques and the lure of glory make them unwilling to give up so easily.

Finally, the third challenger stepped forward.

It was a woman, dressed in white, with long, flowing hair, a beautiful face, and an ethereal air. She held a bamboo scroll in her hand, and her brows exuded a scholarly air, as if she had not come to fight, but to savor tea and discuss philosophy. She came from Zhulu Academy and was the most outstanding disciple of this generation, renowned for her talent and hailed as the "Number One Talented Woman in the Eight Regions."

"Little brother, you are very strong; I am no match for you," the woman said, her voice gentle, like a clear spring. "But I still want to try. Not to defeat you, but just to see just how big the gap is between us."

Her candor moved many people present. Not everyone dares to admit their shortcomings, and even fewer have the courage to challenge a stronger opponent, knowing full well that they will lose.

The little boy tilted his head, looking at the woman in white, a look of approval on his face that seemed to say, "You're very honest." He hugged the pottery jar closer to his chest and said in his childish voice, "You're a good person, and I don't hit good people. You can go now, and someone who can fight will come up next."

The woman in white smiled slightly and shook her head. "Little brother, although I can't defeat you, I can't retreat without a fight. That's not the style of Zhulu Academy." As she spoke, she unfolded the bamboo scroll in her hand, and runes flew out from it, transforming into a vast sea of ​​books that enveloped her and the battlefield.

"This is the most treasured technique of my Zhulu Academy—The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons. It is about attaining enlightenment through literature and wielding books as swords. Please enlighten me, young brother."

In the sea of ​​books, countless words transformed into swords and spears, surging overwhelmingly towards the little one. These words were not ordinary words, but rather contained the understanding of the Great Dao by the sages of Zhulu Academy throughout the ages. Every stroke and every line contained profound truths, and every word and every sentence carried the power of attack.

The little boy's eyes lit up as he looked at the overwhelming amount of text. For the first time in the battle, he showed interest, instead of his usual lazy "I'm too lazy to play with you" attitude.

"That's interesting," he said in a childish voice. Then he put away the pottery jar, placed it in a corner at the edge of the battlefield, carefully adjusted the lid to make sure it wouldn't spill, and then turned around to face the vast sea of ​​books.

He took a deep breath, his small frame straightening ramrod straight, his fists clenched, a faint golden light emanating from them. The light wasn't dazzling, but it carried a chilling weight, as if they weren't fists, but two mountains about to crash down.

"boom!"

He unleashed a punch, the force of which exploded, violently churning the sea of ​​books. Countless characters were shattered, transforming into a shower of light that drifted across the sky. Yet the sea of ​​books did not collapse; the shattered characters reformed within the shower of light, transforming into new swords and spears, continuing their onslaught towards the little one.

"The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons, conveying the Way through literature, is everlasting," the woman in white murmured. She turned a page of the bamboo scroll in her hand, and more words flew from it, merging into the sea of ​​books. "As long as my literary spirit endures, this sea of ​​books will not dissipate. Little brother, how will you break my literary spirit?"

The little boy tilted his head, looking at the ever-flowing sea of ​​books, then at the bamboo scroll in the white-clad woman's hand, and suddenly laughed. His silly grin, missing a front tooth, carried a sly air of "I've seen through everything."

"Your literary inspiration is that bamboo scroll, isn't it?" he asked in a childish voice.

The woman in white's expression changed slightly, and she unconsciously tightened her grip on the bamboo slip in her hand.

Without waiting for her reply, the little boy vanished in a flash. The next instant, he appeared before the woman in white, his small hand firmly resting on the rolled-up bamboo scroll.

"Click—"

A crisp cracking sound rang out as the rolled-up bamboo slip split open in the white-clad woman's hand. The sea of ​​books instantly dissipated, the overwhelming text transforming into a shower of light that scattered across the sky, and the battlefield returned to clarity.

The woman in white stared blankly at the cracked bamboo slip in her hand, then looked at the small figure in front of her who was still rubbing his hands, and shook her head with a wry smile. She put away the bamboo slip, gave the little boy a slight bow, and turned to leave the battlefield.

"Little brother, I admit defeat. I'm completely convinced."

The little boy picked up the earthenware jar in the corner, opened the lid, took a sip of beast milk, and smacked his lips in satisfaction. Watching the white-clad woman's departing figure, he suddenly called out, "Sister, your literary skill is amazing. It's a pity you rely too much on that bamboo scroll. When you can use your literary skill to carve dragons without the bamboo scroll, then come and challenge me again."

The woman in white paused, glanced back at him, a complex light flashing in her eyes. Then she smiled slightly, nodded, and drifted away.

In the void, the challengers gazed in the direction the woman in white had left, then looked at the small figure in the battlefield, leisurely drinking milk from a clay pot, and a feeling they couldn't quite describe welled up inside them.

This child is not only incredibly strong, but also possesses keen insight. He saw through the white-clad woman's weakness, yet instead of using it to humiliate her, he offered her a piece of advice. This magnanimity and composure truly deserve the title of "Number One Under Heaven."

In the distance, the Fire Emperor stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the tiny figure on the battlefield with admiration in his eyes. He turned to Fire Spirit beside him and asked softly, "Ling'er, do you still think he's just arrogant?"

Huo Ling'er pursed her lips and remained silent. She gazed at the tiny figure still drinking milk, a strange feeling suddenly welling up within her. This little brat... seems really quite formidable.

Fourth, fifth, sixth... a series of attacks

The battle continues.

One challenger after another stepped onto the battlefield, and one after another was defeated by Little Dot. There were princes from ancient kingdoms, prodigies from great sects, ferocious beasts from ancient sacred mountains, and heirs from reclusive families. Some were known for their strength, some for their speed, some for their magical techniques, and some for their mastery of formations. But before Little Dot, none of them could withstand more than three moves.

One punch, two punches, three punches at most. No one could last three rounds against him. His punches were too heavy, so heavy that they instilled despair; his speed was too fast, so fast that there was no time to react; his reflexes were too sharp, so sharp that any sneak attack could not escape detection. He was like an invincible war god, standing in the center of the battlefield, looking down on the challengers who came one after another, easily blasting them away one by one.

"Next."

"Next."

"Next."

His voice, though childlike and sweet, carried the chilling weight of a death knell, sending shivers down the spines of the challengers. They weren't afraid of losing, but they dreaded this utterly crushing defeat. Each time they entered the battlefield, they were filled with hope, believing they had found his weakness, that they could defeat him with some secret technique or powerful magic. But each time, reality ruthlessly slapped them in the face.

That child had no flaws. At least, not within the Blood-Moving Realm.

Night fell, and the first day came to an end.

The Realm of the Void Gods has no distinction between day and night, but people's sense of time remains. According to the outside time, the first day's challenge, after dozens of battles, has finally come to an end.

The little boy stood in the center of the battlefield, clutching a pottery jar. His little face still bore that silly grin with his missing front tooth, but his dark, bright eyes held a hint of weariness. He had fought dozens of battles, winning each one easily, but the continuous fighting had still taken a toll on his mental and physical strength.

He opened the lid of the earthenware jar, lowered his head, and took a sip of beast milk, its aroma wafting through the air. He smacked his lips, looked up at the challengers still observing, and said in a childish voice, "That's it for today, I'm going to sleep. We'll continue tomorrow."

As soon as he finished speaking, he stepped out of the battlefield and waved in the direction of the Sage. "Uncle Trial Tower, find me a place to sleep, a soft bed with a blanket."

Among the crowd, the challengers' lips twitched, speechless. He'd beaten so many of them, and now he wanted a bed and blankets. This wasn't just being the best in the world; this was being the most arrogant person in the world. But they dared not say anything, because that child truly had the right to make demands. Dozens of battles, undefeated; no one could withstand three moves. Such a record was enough to silence anyone.

Zhisheng's voice came from inside the tower, still calm as still water, yet carrying a hint of barely perceptible amusement. "Alright."

A beam of light shot out from the tower gate, enveloping the little one and guiding him into the Tower of Eternal Life. The tiny figure vanished in the light, leaving only a single sentence echoing in the void.

"See you tomorrow, everyone. I haven't had enough fun yet."

In the void, the challengers looked at each other, their hearts filled with mixed emotions. They gazed at the open tower gate and the small figure that had disappeared, a feeling they couldn't quite describe welling up inside them.

Is this child really only five years old?