Level Eighteen!

Fu Wen paused. "But I'm not worried."

"Why?"

"Because the Flying Sausage's core isn't the recipe. It's Xiao Ao's Martial Soul and Soul Ring."

Fu Wen said, "Even if someone else studied it for a hundred years, they still couldn't make one."

Flender thought it over and decided Fu Wen had a point.

"So you mean... we don't need to do anything about him?"

"No."

Fu Wen shook his head. "If he's willing to spend seventy Gold Soul Coins to buy one, let him."

"We'll make our money, and he can do his research."

"Once he's figured out the sausage inside and out and realizes there's no way to replicate it, he'll give up on his own."

Flender laughed.

"You brat, that's a real open scheme."

"Open scheme or secret plot, it doesn't matter."

Fu Wen's lips curled slightly. "As long as it makes money."

In the days that followed, the man in black didn't show up again.

The Flying Sausage auctions went on as usual, five times a week, and every single one was packed.

Prices stayed between fifty and sixty. Every now and then, some sucker would offer more, but that was rare.

Oscar's technique grew more and more practiced. It had originally taken him the time to burn one incense stick to make five sausages, but now he could do it in half that time.

He'd also figured out a trick.

He made four sausages first, then prepared the fifth once the auction had begun. That way, the last one was at its freshest and could fetch a better price.

Flender praised his business sense.

Oscar grinned. "I learned it all from Brother Wen."

Fu Wen rolled his eyes. "I never taught you that."

"Then you've taught me now."

Oscar's shamelessness was beyond dispute.

Ma Hongjun chimed in from the side. "Bro Oscar, when are you gonna teach me? I want to make money too."

"First get your Evil Fire under control. We don't need you burning the academy down again."

Oscar patted him on the head. "Once you reach the second ring, go hunt for a money-making Soul Skill too."

"What should I hunt?"

Ma Hongjun blinked at him.

"A... hen that lays golden eggs," Oscar said after a moment's thought.

"Get lost!"

Ma Hongjun kicked at him.

The two of them chased each other around the courtyard, play-fighting.

Fu Wen sat on the steps and watched them, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

Days passed, one after another.

Peaceful, but never dull.

Everyone was growing. Everyone was getting stronger.

And he, too, was waiting.

Waiting for the day the time was right.

When that day came, he would let everyone know:

China Divine Crocodile wasn't something just anyone could provoke.

That night.

Shrek Academy, dormitory.

Ma Hongjun was fast asleep, snoring softly, a trace of drool still hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Oscar was asleep too. He'd spent the whole day busy at the auction, and was so tired he couldn't even be bothered to turn over.

Fu Wen sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed, his breathing steady and deep.

Within him, the Innate Divine Crocodile Art was circulating.

Soul Power flowed slowly along its prescribed paths, passing through his limbs and bones, sinking deep into his muscles and bones, then converging at his spine before surging straight toward his brain.

One cycle, two cycles, three...

Each cycle was a little faster than the last, a little stronger than the one before.

Ever since he'd touched the threshold of level eighteen last time, Fu Wen had felt his Soul Power growing fuller and fuller within him.

It was like water being poured into a bucket. The level was slowly rising, just one last cup away from spilling over.

But that one cup had held him up for days.

Fu Wen wasn't in a hurry.

The Innate Divine Crocodile Art told him that the greatest taboo in cultivation was impatience.

When the water arrived, a channel would form naturally.

Forcing it would only risk losing control and going berserk.

So every day, he circulated the art as usual, unhurried, neither striving nor competing.

What was meant to come would come.

Tonight, however, seemed different.

When his Soul Power reached the seventh cycle, Fu Wen felt something shift.

The stagnant feeling that had been lodged in one spot along his spine suddenly loosened.

It was like a stone being slowly washed away by flowing water, the crack growing wider and wider.

Fu Wen steadied his mind and continued circulating the art without a hint of panic.

The eighth cycle.

His Soul Power broke through the first barrier, bursting forth like a floodgate giving way.

Fu Wen's face flushed red, fine beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.

But his hands didn't tremble, and his breathing didn't falter.

The ninth cycle.

His Soul Power roared through him, coursing through every meridian and every acupoint.

Fu Wen could clearly feel a subtle change taking place in his body.

As his Soul Power washed over them, his muscle fibers grew tougher, a faint bronze sheen appeared on the surface of his bones, and even his breathing became deeper and more powerful.

The tenth cycle.

Humm!

A low, muffled thrum came from within Fu Wen.

It wasn't quite a sound, but more like a vibration.

Like a great bell being struck, its lingering resonance echoed through his body.

The barrier that had held firm for days shattered completely.

His Soul Power galloped through him like a wild horse breaking free, then slowly settled and flowed into his dantian.

Level eighteen.

Fu Wen opened his eyes and breathed out a mouthful of stale air.

The breath didn't disperse. It formed a white arrow that shot three feet before fading away.

"Level eighteen."

Fu Wen lowered his head and looked at his hands.

Bronze-colored markings shimmered faintly across his skin, an outward sign that the Innate Divine Crocodile Art had reached a certain level.

He clenched his fists, feeling the power surging through his body.

He was at least thirty percent stronger than he'd been at level seventeen.

His Soul Power was purer, his body tougher, and his mind clearer.

That was the terrifying part of the Innate Divine Crocodile Art.

When others leveled up, only their Soul Power improved.

When he leveled up, his Soul Power, body, and soul all improved in sync.

"At this rate, I'll be ready to break through to the second ring in two months."

Fu Wen silently did the math.

The threshold between the first and second rings was level twenty.

He was at level eighteen, two levels short.

Two months would be more than enough.

"Brother Wen... did you break through again?"

Ma Hongjun's sleepy voice came from nearby.

He rolled over, rubbed his eyes, and looked toward Fu Wen.

"Yeah."

Fu Wen nodded.

"What level are you now?"

"Eighteen."

"Eighteen..."

Ma Hongjun mumbled, then closed his eyes again.

Two seconds later, he abruptly sat up.

"Eighteen?! You went up another level?!"

"Keep your voice down. Don't wake Xiao Ao."

Fu Wen frowned.

Ma Hongjun clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Brother Wen, you're way too fast!"

"I'm still only level twelve, and you're already level eighteen!"

"How long ago did you awaken?"

Fu Wen glanced at him. "You only awakened a little over a month ago. Level twelve is already pretty fast."

"But you're faster than me!"

Ma Hongjun looked unconvinced.

"I'm me, and you're you."

Fu Wen said calmly, "Don't compare yourself to others. Just compare yourself to who you were before."

"If you're stronger today than you were yesterday, and stronger this month than last month, that's enough."

Ma Hongjun thought it over and decided Fu Wen had a point.

"Then... when can I catch up to you?"

"Why bother catching up to me?"

Fu Wen rolled his eyes. "Get your Evil Fire under control and master the Phoenix Holy Light Strike. That's more important than anything."