You already walk the path to death

The next day, the second round of the competition had just concluded.

The clamor above the arena gradually subsided. Xie Xie rubbed his somewhat sore arms, his face still flushed with the excitement of the match, as he huddled beside Lin Chen, enthusiastically planning another outing.

"Lin Chen, Tang Wulin, Gu Yuena, let's head out in a while. It's the perfect time to go back to the snack street."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a panicked classmate came stumbling over, cold sweat drenching his forehead. He grabbed Lin Chen, who was closest to him, his voice trembling.

"It's bad! A huge crowd has gathered at the entrance, and they're holding photos of you and Xie Xie, demanding that the academy hand you over."

Lin Chen pondered for a moment before saying to Tang Wulin, "Wulin, go find Teacher Wu. Xie Xie, Na'er, we'll head over first."

"Alright," Xie Xie and Gu Yuena replied in unison.

The three of them walked quickly to the academy gate, only to find it completely blocked by over two hundred burly men. Each of them wore a malicious expression, their eyes fierce, and many were brandishing soul tools that were banned for civilian use.

At the front of the crowd, several men were carrying a stretcher. Lying upon it was none other than Guang Long, whom Lin Chen had shocked half to death; he was currently wrapped in gauze from head to toe, hanging by a thread.

Behind them, the crowd held up a massive banner that read: "A life for a life; hand over the murderer."

Fortunately, this was a Soul Master Academy. Long Hengxu, accompanied by a dozen teachers, did not panic, his gaze stern as he faced the troublemakers.

Long Hengxu stepped forward, his voice laced with indignation as he barked, "Who are you people? This is an academy, not a place for you to cause trouble!"

Beside the stretcher stood a man even more robust than Guang Long, who spoke up: "My name is Guang Biao, and the one on the stretcher is my younger brother."

Upon hearing this, Long Hengxu pondered for a moment, then his eyes widened: "You are Guang Biao, the captain of the Eastsea City Mecha Brigade?"

"I am no longer any captain of a mecha brigade; I am merely an older brother whose younger brother has been gravely injured. Hand over those murderers," Guang Biao replied coldly.

Just as the two sides were at each other's throats, a crisp, cold voice rang out from behind the crowd: "I have always hated reasoning. Let's settle this with our fists."

The crowd felt a blur before their eyes, and a figure in white appeared before Lin Chen and the others, holding Tang Wulin in one hand.

Wu Changkong stood tall as a pine. After setting Tang Wulin down, he glanced at Lin Chen, Xie Xie, and Gu Yuena, signaling them to move back and not intervene.

Guang Biao narrowed his already small eyes and said in a deep voice, "Who are you? This matter has nothing to do with you."

Wu Changkong's expression was indifferent, his brows unruffled, yet the chill radiating from his body had already begun to permeate the air. He met Guang Biao's gaze, his voice frigid.

"The ones you are looking for are my students. If you can beat me, you may continue; if you lose, get lost."

Guang Biao's face turned livid. As the captain of the Eastsea City Mecha Brigade, when had he ever suffered such humiliation? His martial soul instantly possessed him, and the same soul spirit that had appeared on Guang Long's shoulder yesterday manifested on his own—though unlike Guang Long's, Guang Biao's was a century-level spirit, accompanied by a thousand-year snake-shaped soul spirit.

Two yellow and four purple soul rings slowly emerged around him.

Wu Changkong's white robes fluttered as a pale blue longsword appeared in his right hand.

Black soul rings slowly rose—two yellow, two purple, and two black. Six soul rings revolved silently around the sword in Wu Changkong's hand.

The breathing of almost everyone present stopped in that instant. No matter how terrified Guang Biao was, he had no choice but to bite the bullet. Amidst a flurry of sparks and lightning, Wu Changkong defeated Guang Biao in just seven strikes.

On the way back, Xie Xie scratched his head and asked in a low voice, looking at Wu Changkong's back, "Teacher Wu, are you not angry with us?"

Wu Changkong did not stop walking, his tone remaining indifferent, yet devoid of any blame: "Why would I be angry with you? You didn't do anything wrong."

He turned his head and gave Lin Chen a meaningful look: "Go back and cultivate. From today on, except for rest days, you are not permitted to leave the academy."

Xie Xie nodded quickly. Lin Chen watched Wu Changkong's retreating figure, a hint of warmth passing through his eyes, while Gu Yuena moved half a step closer to his side.

After saying goodbye to Gu Yuena, the three returned to their dormitory to meditate and cultivate.

The room was filled only with the faint humming of circulating soul power.

Tang Wulin sat cross-legged on his bed, fully immersed in meditation, when suddenly his consciousness appeared in a vast space.

"You have finally come." A golden phantom slowly coalesced, though its specific features remained obscured.

He instinctively looked up, his gaze passing beyond the phantom to where a massive dragon-shaped silhouette hovered silently, bound by eighteen seals.

Tang Wulin curiously asked the golden phantom what that giant golden dragon was.

The golden phantom seemed to recall something and suddenly began to pant like an ox, though it quickly recovered and answered Tang Wulin: "It is the Golden Dragon King, your destiny. There was originally another destiny, but it was snatched away by someone beside you."

Tang Wulin blinked, unable to keep up with the other's erratic speech. He hurriedly pressed, "Senior, what exactly do you mean by 'destiny' and 'snatched away'? Someone beside me?"

The golden phantom seemed not to hear his question, continuing to speak to itself, its voice carrying a trace of imperceptible exhaustion and urgency: "Remember, if you do not collect three types of spiritual items before you turn ten, you will die."

Tang Wulin's words caught in his throat; he was completely stunned. Before ten? Three spiritual items? Death?

He instinctively touched his chest, his heart pounding violently within his ribcage. These inexplicable words left him dizzy and unable to make sense of anything.

Before he could digest this, the phantom's voice rose again, tinged with a hint of gratification: "That you could come here means you already have the ability to absorb the first seal. Very good, earlier than I anticipated."

Tang Wulin felt completely bewildered, his mind full of questions, until he heard the golden figure say: "The spiritual items are a century-old Ice Crystal Fruit, a century-old Scarlet Flame Fruit, and ten drops of essence blood from a century-old soul beast with dragon lineage."

Finally, the golden figure uttered a vague, indistinct sentence: "Beware of Yun Lin... he already walks the path of certain death."

As his consciousness returned to reality, a handsome face suddenly appeared before him—it was Lin Chen.

"Ah!" Tang Wulin nearly jumped off the bed, instinctively clutching his chest as he gasped, "Brother Lin Chen, it's you. You scared me to death."

Lin Chen stepped back half a step, resting his chin on one hand. His glazed eyes fell upon Tang Wulin, and he asked with concern, "Wulin, your state just now was very off. Your brows were almost knotted together. Did something go wrong with your cultivation?"

Tang Wulin opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but he didn't know where to begin, nor did he know how to explain it to Lin Chen.

After pondering for a moment, Tang Wulin sorted out the gist of it and recounted it to Lin Chen: "There was this golden phantom that said some inexplicable things—something about needing three spiritual items or I would die, and at the end, it said something about someone walking the path of certain death."

Upon hearing Tang Wulin's words, a flash of realization crossed Lin Chen's eyes; he instantly understood who the phantom was referring to.

He maintained his look of concern, reaching out to pat Tang Wulin's shoulder gently. "Don't think too much about it. Get some rest first."

Deep down, Lin Chen cursed, That little bastard, trying to pin the 'path of certain death' on me? I think you're the one walking the path of certain death.