The Young Lady's Training!

Ning Rongrong was stunned. "Do it myself? Back at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, the servants always handle that."

"This is Shrek, not the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect."

Fu Wen glanced at her, turned, and walked away.

Ning Rongrong stood where she was, clenching her fists.

This Fu Wen—the tone he used was truly detestable.

But what angered her even more was...

She couldn't find a single word to refute him.

In the afternoon, at the training grounds.

Flender called the four children together.

"Starting today, your training regimen will be adjusted."

"Ning Rongrong has just arrived, so she will spend a few days adapting first."

"The rest of you will continue as usual."

"Understood!"

Oscar and Ma Hongjun replied in unison.

Fu Wen nodded.

Ning Rongrong stood to the side, watching the three of them, a trace of disdain in her eyes.

Training?

How hard could it possibly be?

"Ning Rongrong, your Martial Soul is the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda, an auxiliary type."

Flender looked at her. "Your primary task is to support your teammates while simultaneously increasing your own soul power."

"With the enhancement of your first soul ring, how many people can you boost at once?"

"Three."

Ning Rongrong said, "And the magnitude of the boost is related to my soul power."

"Understood."

Flender nodded. "That's all for today; just follow along and observe for now."

Ning Rongrong frowned but said nothing.

On the training ground, Oscar and Ma Hongjun began to spar.

Fu Wen stood to the side, providing guidance.

"Xiao Ao, your Flying Sausage is getting better, but your close-quarters combat is still too weak."

"Keep practicing. You pass only when you can withstand three moves from Xiao Pang."

"Three moves?"

Oscar gave a bitter smile. "Brother Wen, do you really think I can take three moves?"

"If you can't take them, then practice."

Fu Wen remained expressionless. "Practice until you can."

Ma Hongjun chuckled and threw a punch at Oscar.

Oscar scrambled to dodge, but he was half a beat too slow and took a glancing blow to the shoulder, wincing in pain.

"Too slow."

Fu Wen remarked, "Your reaction speed isn't even as good as Xiao Pang's."

"That's because Xiao Pang practices with you every day!"

Oscar protested, unconvinced.

"Then you need to practice even more."

Fu Wen didn't engage further.

Ning Rongrong stood to the side, watching the three of them, her gaze shifting from contempt to curiosity.

This person called Fu Wen looked to be about her age, yet he spoke with the tone of an adult.

Moreover, both Oscar and Ma Hongjun listened to him intently.

"What are you looking at?"

Fu Wen suddenly turned his head to look at Ning Rongrong.

Ning Rongrong was startled, but she quickly regained her composure.

"I'm watching you train."

"See anything?"

"You guys... are quite serious."

Fu Wen glanced at her and said nothing more.

Ning Rongrong let out a sigh of relief.

She didn't know why, but facing this boy of the same age, she always felt an indescribable pressure.

It wasn't fear, but rather... unease.

Evening, the cafeteria.

Shao Xin had prepared a table full of dishes, much richer than usual.

Flender sat at the head of the table and gestured for Ning Rongrong to sit down.

"Rongrong, this will be your food from now on."

"Thank you, Dean."

Ning Rongrong picked up her chopsticks, picked up a piece of braised pork, and put it in her mouth.

Then, her eyes lit up.

"Delicious!"

"If it's delicious, eat more."

Shao Xin smiled and brought over another bowl of soup.

Ning Rongrong didn't stand on ceremony and began to eat heartily.

Oscar watched her and couldn't help but laugh.

"What are you laughing at?"

Ning Rongrong glared at him.

"Nothing."

Oscar hurriedly lowered his head to shovel rice into his mouth.

He couldn't afford to upset this young lady on the very first day.

Ma Hongjun didn't have such reservations and spoke up directly: "Rongrong, what level is your soul power?"

"Level twelve."

Ning Rongrong said, "I had innate level nine soul power, and after absorbing a first soul ring of over four hundred years, I jumped up two levels."

"Not bad talent."

Ma Hongjun said with a grin.

"That's for sure."

Ning Rongrong lifted her chin proudly.

"Alright, alright, stop showing off."

Flender tapped the table: "Level twelve counts as a genius in the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, but it's nothing at Shrek Academy."

"Ask Fu Wen what level he is."

Ning Rongrong looked at Fu Wen.

"Twenty-three."

Fu Wen didn't even look up.

Ning Rongrong's chopsticks froze in mid-air.

Twenty-three?

Nearly double her soul power?

She had originally thought her talent was already excellent, but she hadn't expected this seemingly reticent boy to be even stronger than her.

"How old are you?"

Ning Rongrong asked.

"Six, not much older than you."

Fu Wen glanced at her: "So, don't think you're all that impressive."

"Here, you are just an ordinary member."

"You must know that there is always someone better than you."

Ning Rongrong gripped her chopsticks tightly and said nothing.

This was the first time she had been lectured like this by someone her own age.

And, to her surprise, she had no words to retort.

After the meal, Ning Rongrong offered to help with the dishes.

Flender glanced at her, looking somewhat surprised.

"No need, Shao Xin can handle it."

"I want to wash them."

Ning Rongrong's tone was insistent.

Flender didn't say anything more and nodded.

Ning Rongrong carried the bowls and chopsticks into the kitchen, where Shao Xin was busy at the stove.

"Uncle Shao, let me wash the dishes."

Shao Xin paused for a moment, then smiled. "Alright, go ahead."

Ning Rongrong rolled up her sleeves and dipped her hands into the basin.

The water was a bit cold; she frowned, but did not pull back.

She picked up a bowl and carefully wiped it with a rag.

Her movements were clumsy, but she was very earnest.

Shao Xin stood nearby watching, nodding to himself.

This child, though spoiled, was not bad at heart.

Fu Wen passed by the kitchen doorway and stopped when he saw Ning Rongrong washing the dishes.

After watching for a while, he turned and walked away.

Back in the dormitory, Ma Hongjun was tossing and turning on his bed.

"Brother Wen, do you think that Ning Rongrong will be hard to get along with?"

"I don't know."

Fu Wen sat on his bed. "But the fact that she's willing to wash dishes shows she isn't completely unreasonable."

Ma Hongjun thought about it and decided that made sense.

"That's good then."

He rolled over and closed his eyes.

Fu Wen did not sleep.

He was thinking about the letter from Ning Fengzhi.

"Train her ruthlessly, change her spoiled-princess temper."

That Sect Master was determined to make his daughter suffer.

Then he would oblige him.

Early the next morning, Flender called Ning Rongrong to the training grounds.

"Starting today, you will train with the others."

"The first task: running. Run ten laps around the field."

"Ten laps?"

Ning Rongrong looked at the field, her eyes wide.

Although the field wasn't huge, ten laps would be at least a mile or two.

"Think that's too little? Then make it twenty."

Flender's expression remained blank.

Ning Rongrong gritted her teeth, said nothing, and began to run.

She ran the first lap with relative ease.

By the second lap, her breathing began to quicken.

On the third lap, her pace slowed down.

By the fourth lap, she had fallen far behind Oscar and Ma Hongjun.

On the fifth lap, she couldn't run anymore; she hunched over, gasping for air.

"Can't run anymore?"

Flender walked over.

Ning Rongrong looked up at him, her eyes turning red.

But she bit her lip and did not beg for mercy.

"If you can't run, then walk. Finishing the distance counts."

Flender finished speaking and turned to leave.

Ning Rongrong straightened her body, took a deep breath, and continued to run.

This time, she ran very slowly, but she did not stop.

One lap, two laps, three laps...

By the time she finished the final lap, she was on the verge of collapse.

But she did not fall.

Fu Wen stood in the distance, watching Ning Rongrong, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

This young lady could endure more than he had imagined.