After Ma Hongjun's Evil Fire was suppressed, the days returned to calm for a while. But everyone knew this was only a temporary peace.
Ma Hongjun trained as usual every day, and his aim with Phoenix Holy Light Strike kept improving. He went from practicing with four Light Feathers to five, and his hit rate remained above eighty percent.
The Evil Fire hadn't struck back, but he could feel that scorching restlessness still pressing at the bottom of his heart, like a sleeping beast that could awaken at any moment.
"Brother Wen, do you think I'll have to rely on you to suppress my Evil Fire every time it flares up?"
Ma Hongjun sat on the steps with one of Oscar's Big Sausages in his hand, but he had no appetite.
Fu Wen sat down beside him. "No. After each flare-up, the purifying power inside you will grow a little stronger. Once you've accumulated enough, you'll be able to suppress it yourself."
"Really?"
"Really." Fu Wen nodded. "But first, you have to hold on until then."
Ma Hongjun fell silent.
He knew what Fu Wen meant.
The Evil Fire would flare up more and more often, and each time it would grow more intense.
If he had to rely on Fu Wen every time, what would he do if Fu Wen wasn't there one day—or if Fu Wen ran out of Soul Power?
"I'll work hard." Ma Hongjun bit into the sausage and chewed with all his might.
"I know." Fu Wen patted his shoulder, stood up, and headed for the training field.
Oscar was practicing with his Flying Sausage on the field.
Not making sausages, but eating them.
Flender had given him an assignment.
He had to fly for at least an hour every day and practice until his flight was as steady as a rock.
"Brother Ao, how many laps have you flown today?" Ma Hongjun asked as he came over.
"Ten."
Oscar landed, put away his Light Wings, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Dad said I'll pass when I can fly through the woods with my eyes closed without hitting a tree."
"How long will that take?"
"I don't know." Oscar shook his head. "But it's better than not practicing."
Fu Wen stood nearby without saying a word.
He was watching Oscar's flight path.
Oscar was flying much more steadily than he had a few days ago, but he was still a little stiff when turning.
That meant he didn't have enough control over his Light Wings. There was no shortcut—he just had to practice more.
"Xiao Ao, don't force the turn." Fu Wen spoke up. "Slow down ahead of time, lean your body, and let your Light Wings naturally carry you in the right direction."
Oscar froze for a moment, thought it over, and took off again.
This time, he followed Fu Wen's advice, slowing down in advance and leaning his body. Sure enough, his turns were much smoother.
"It works!"
Oscar shouted from the air. He flew another lap, then landed with excitement written all over his face. "Xiao Wen, you've barely flown yourself. How did you know that?"
"Observation," Fu Wen replied coolly. "That's how birds turn."
Oscar's mouth twitched. He decided not to say anything.
Flender stood in the distance, watching the three boys with a faint smile.
Zhao Wuji walked over and followed his gaze. "Dean, each of your three students has their own strengths—and their own problems. What's Xiao Wen's problem?"
Flender thought for a moment. "He's too steady."
"Being too steady is a problem?"
"If he's too steady, then it's not a problem." Flender pushed up his glasses. "But I can't help feeling he's hiding something from me."
Zhao Wuji glanced at him but said nothing.
Suotuo City, south side, an inconspicuous inn.
On the second floor, in a room by the window.
A middle-aged man dressed in black sat at the table, holding a sausage that glowed blue: a Flying Sausage.
He didn't eat it. He merely held it beneath his nose, sniffed it, then set it on the table.
"Well? Have you figured it out?" another voice came from the corner.
The man in black shook his head. "No. The key to this sausage isn't the recipe. It's that child's Martial Soul and Soul Ring. It can't be replicated."
"Then what do we do?"
"Watch." The man in black uttered a single word. "Keep an eye on Shrek Academy. Keep an eye on that child. We'll get our chance eventually."
The person in the corner was silent for a while, then stood and left through the door.
Business at the auction house was getting better and better.
The Flying Sausage had become famous beyond Suotuo City. Wealthy merchants and nobles from several nearby cities were coming to buy it.
All five sausages fetched high prices at every auction. The lowest went for fifty-five Gold Soul Coins, while the highest soared to eighty.
Oscar's skills were improving, too. Making five sausages now took him only the time it took to burn a stick of incense, down from half an incense stick.
He had even figured out a little trick.
He made the first four ahead of time, then prepared the fifth after the auction began. That way, the last one was the freshest and could fetch a good price.
Manager Gu looked at the account book, grinning from ear to ear.
The auction house took a ten percent commission. If five sausages sold for three hundred Gold Soul Coins, the auction house pocketed thirty.
Over a month, that added up to more than a hundred.
And that was only from the Flying Sausages.
"Manager Gu, is today's auction over?" Oscar came out from backstage.
"Over, over."
Manager Gu closed the account book. "Xiao Ao, the fifth sausage you made today went for a whopping seventy-five Gold Soul Coins."
"Seventy-five?" Oscar froze. "Who bought it?"
"It was that Mr. Ning again." Manager Gu lowered his voice. "From the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect."
Oscar frowned but said nothing more.
When he returned to the academy, Oscar told Flender that Ning Fengzhi had come again.
"He came again?" Flender frowned. "How many times is that now?"
"Five." Oscar held up five fingers. "Once a week, like clockwork."
"Does he offer a high price every time?"
"Yes. Always over seventy." Oscar paused. "Dad, do you think he's testing something?"
Flender said nothing and looked at Fu Wen.
Fu Wen thought it over, then spoke. "Ning Fengzhi is a clever man. He knows the key to the Flying Sausage is Xiao Ao's Martial Soul and Soul Ring, so he won't waste time trying anything pointless. He buys one each time so the people in his sect can see it."
"So the people in his sect can see it?"
"Right." Fu Wen nodded. "He's telling them the Flying Sausage is real and worth taking seriously. But it's nothing that needs to be kept secret or studied in private. He's making his position clear: the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect is interested in the Flying Sausage, but won't resort to underhanded methods."
Flender was silent for a while, then nodded. "Makes sense. So what do we do from here?"
"Carry on as usual," Fu Wen said. "Auction what needs to be auctioned, train as usual. The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect isn't an enemy—at least, not for now."
Night fell.
Fu Wen lay in bed, still thinking about what had happened that day.
Ning Fengzhi came once a week, buying a single Flying Sausage each time.
The pattern was too regular. It didn't seem like research so much as observation.
What was he observing?
Oscar's progress?
Whether the quality of the Flying Sausages had changed?
Or Shrek Academy's reaction?
Any of those were possible.
But what Fu Wen couldn't figure out was this:
The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect was one of the Seven Great Sects of the Continent, and its sect master, Ning Fengzhi, was the strongest support-type Soul Master of his time.
They weren't short of money or resources. So why were they so interested in a Flying Sausage?
Unless it wasn't the sausage itself they were after, but the person behind it.
Oscar.
A food-type Soul Master with Innate Full Soul Power, an exceedingly rare existence on the continent.
If the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect could bring Oscar into its fold, it would vastly improve the sect's support capabilities.
Fu Wen narrowed his eyes.
This wasn't a guess. It was a deduction.
Ning Fengzhi came once a week and bought just one sausage each time. He never asked about Oscar's background and never said an unnecessary word.
That didn't mean he wasn't interested. It meant he was very interested.
He was waiting—for the right moment, for Oscar to grow into someone worth approaching.
"Brother Wen, you're still awake?" Oscar's voice came from beside him.
"No." Fu Wen rolled over. "Xiao Ao, let me ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"If the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect ever came to you and asked you to join them, what would you choose?"
Oscar froze, then stayed silent for a long time.
"I don't know," he finally said. "I only know that this is my home. Dad, you, Xiao Pang, Uncle Shao, and the others—you're all my family."
"That's enough." Fu Wen closed his eyes. "Go to sleep."
Oscar murmured in agreement and closed his eyes too.
Outside the window, the moon was full. Moonlight spilled into the room, falling across the faces of the two boys.
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