Ning Rongrong's Progress!

After Fu Wen set Ning Rongrong down, she stood there in a daze for quite a while.

She wasn't scared; she was simply bewildered.

Back at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, she had flown before—carried by Sword Grandpa, carried by Bone Grandpa, and carried by the sect's flight-type soul masters.

But those were all instances of being carried by others; she didn't have to do anything but sit still.

Flying on her own—this was a first.

"Do you want to try again?"

Fu Wen stood not far away, turning to look at her.

Ning Rongrong gritted her teeth. "Try!"

She took a deep breath and once again channeled energy into the Light Wing on her back.

This time, she didn't rush to shoot upward. Instead, she stood in place, first feeling out the balance of the wings.

The Light Wing was created by the Flying Sausage and wasn't a part of her own body, yet the sensation was marvelous, as if she had grown an extra pair of hands—a pair of hands sprouting from her back.

"Take it slow, don't rush."

Oscar shouted from the sidelines, looking even more nervous than she was.

Ning Rongrong tried flapping the Light Wing; her body lifted slightly off the ground, but she quickly dropped back down.

Flap again, lift again, fall again.

On the third attempt, she managed to control it, hovering half a foot off the ground without shooting up or falling over.

"I've stabilized!"

Ning Rongrong shouted excitedly.

Before the words had even left her lips, the Light Wing shuddered violently, and she lost her balance, tipping to the side.

This time, she didn't close her eyes.

She saw Fu Wen rushing over again, but she didn't want to be caught this time.

Gritting her teeth, she desperately adjusted the angle of the Light Wing, and at the very last moment before hitting the ground, she regained her balance.

"I did it!"

Ning Rongrong hovered in mid-air; though it was less than a foot off the ground, her eyes shone like stars.

Flender stood in the distance watching the scene, the corners of his mouth curling upward slightly.

This girl had more resilience than he had imagined.

Ning Fengzhi had been right to send her here.

Over the next few days, Ning Rongrong practiced flying every afternoon.

From half a foot off the ground to a full foot, from one foot to ten, from ten feet to a hundred.

Her rate of progress was astonishing; even Oscar had to admit that this young miss had more talent for flying than he did.

"It's not fair."

Oscar sat on the edge of the training ground, watching Ning Rongrong zip around in the sky with a resentful look on his face.

"It took me half a month before I dared to fly that high, and she did it in five days."

"That's because you're slow."

Ma Hongjun chimed in from the side, twisting the knife.

"Say that again?"

"I said you're slow."

Ma Hongjun took off running.

"You get back here!"

The two chased each other around the training ground, while Ning Rongrong dove from the sky, intentionally swooping over their heads and kicking up a gust of wind that made their hair stand on end.

"Hahaha!"

Ning Rongrong's laughter drifted down from the sky, as crisp as silver bells.

Fu Wen stood to the side, watching the scene, the corners of his mouth curling upward slightly.

This young miss was truly different from the one in the original work.

In the original, Ning Rongrong didn't arrive at Shrek until she was twelve—arrogant, willful, dismissive of others, unable to endure hardship or fatigue.

But this six-year-old Ning Rongrong, while still possessing the temper of a young miss, was willing to endure hardship, willing to learn, and willing to set aside her status to mingle with Oscar and Ma Hongjun.

Could it really be the butterfly effect?

Fu Wen pondered it and decided it wasn't entirely that.

Age was certainly a factor; a six-year-old child was easier to mold than a twelve-year-old.

But more importantly, Ning Fengzhi had done his homework in advance.

Before sending Ning Rongrong here, Ning Fengzhi must have told her a great deal.

About Shrek, about Flender, about Oscar's Flying Sausage, about Fu Wen's China Divine Crocodile, and about Ma Hongjun's Evil Fire Phoenix.

He wanted Ning Rongrong to know that in this dilapidated academy, there were several geniuses just like her.

She was not here to suffer, but to find partners who could walk alongside her.

Ning Rongrong understood her father's words, which was why she was willing to endure the hardship.

"Fu Wen, what are you thinking about?"

Ning Rongrong landed in front of him, retracted her Light Wings, and tilted her head to look at him.

"Nothing."

Fu Wen pulled back his thoughts.

"You flew quite well today."

"That goes without saying."

Ning Rongrong lifted her chin triumphantly.

"Don't you know who I am?"

"The little princess of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect."

Fu Wen remained expressionless.

"You've been flying for five days, the highest you reached was ten zhang, and you still landed crookedly."

Ning Rongrong's smile froze on her face.

"You, how can you be like this!"

She stomped her foot.

"Can't you praise me even once?"

"I just did."

Fu Wen turned and walked away.

Ning Rongrong stood where she was, her face flushed with anger.

But for some reason, she didn't hate this feeling.

Back at the sect, everyone praised her, everyone gave in to her, and whatever she said went.

But here, no one gave in to her.

Flender lectured her, Zhao Wuji glared at her, and while Oscar and Ma Hongjun were always laughing and joking, they were never polite when it came to snapping back at her.

And Fu Wen, that annoying guy, never praised her and rarely even looked her in the eye.

Yet she knew that the day she fell from the sky, he was the first one to rush over and catch her.

"Rongrong, don't mind him, he's just like that."

Oscar walked over and handed her a Big Sausage.

"He's just a silent gourd who doesn't know how to talk."

"He is not a silent gourd."

Ning Rongrong took the sausage and took a bite.

"He just doesn't want to talk to me."

Oscar froze for a moment, not knowing how to respond.

Ma Hongjun leaned in and whispered, "Brother Ao, Brother Wen seems to be like that with everyone."

"I know."

Ning Rongrong chewed the sausage and said vaguely.

"I just can't stand that aloof look of his."

"Then why don't you just stop looking at him?"

Ma Hongjun said.

Ning Rongrong glared at him.

Ma Hongjun shrank his neck, not daring to say another word.

In the evening, at the cafeteria.

Shao Xin prepared a large table of dishes, much more sumptuous than usual.

Flender said it was to celebrate Ning Rongrong's first full week of enrollment. Ning Rongrong pursed her lips, saying she didn't want to celebrate, but she still ate very happily.

"Rongrong, how does this first week feel?"

Flender asked.

"It's alright."

Ning Rongrong set down her chopsticks and thought for a moment.

"It's just that the training is too exhausting. Running so many laps every day, my legs feel like they're about to break."

"Exhaustion is the point."

Flender pushed up his glasses.

"If you didn't want to be tired, why come here? Wouldn't it be better to enjoy your life back at the sect?"

Ning Rongrong didn't speak.

"Rongrong, your father didn't send you here for you to enjoy a life of luxury."

Flender's tone turned serious.

"He sent you here to learn real skills. Skills aren't taught; they are forged. Forging requires hardship, and if you can't endure hardship, you won't develop any skills."

"I know."

Ning Rongrong lowered her head.

"I never said I wouldn't train."

Flender looked at her, nodded, and said nothing more.

After the meal, Ning Rongrong took the initiative to help clear the dishes.

Shao Xin couldn't stop her; she carried the bowls and plates into the kitchen, rolled up her sleeves, and started washing.

Her movements were much more practiced than a week ago, and she no longer splashed water everywhere.