Battle Dai Huabin

"Mu Chen." Dai Huabin spoke, his voice not loud, but clear enough for everyone on and off the stage to hear. "I admit you are strong—a Soul Ancestor with a ten-thousand-year soul ring. No one in the entire freshman year is your match."

He paused, his smile deepening. "But your eye for teammates is truly beyond comprehension. Wang Dong is at least a level 25 Soul Grand Master, which is barely acceptable. But this one..."

He tilted his chin toward Huo Yuhao.

"Level 11? No, level 14 now? A one-ring Soul Master whose martial soul is an eye, a support-type detection specialist." Dai Huabin enunciated the words "support-type detection specialist" heavily, as if chewing on a joke. "The freshman assessment is a three-on-three team battle. Are you bringing such a dead weight along because you're afraid of winning too easily and want to increase the difficulty for yourself?"

A low ripple of laughter broke out beneath the stage.

Most of those laughing were Dai Huabin's lackeys, though a few were simply onlookers who loved a good spectacle.

More people frowned, feeling the words were too harsh, but out of deference to Dai Huabin's status, no one spoke up.

Huo Yuhao stood where he was, his expression unchanged.

It had been three months; he had heard such words many times.

From the very first day of school, countless people had questioned why he was qualified to be on a team with Mu Chen.

He never defended himself, because he knew that no verbal defense was as powerful as strength.

But at this moment, standing on the stage and being singled out for humiliation in front of the entire grade, his fingertips still trembled uncontrollably.

It wasn't anger; it was resentment.

Mu Chen noticed the tremor.

He turned his head to look at Huo Yuhao and asked a question that sounded inexplicable to others: "Yuhao, did you bring the grilled fish?"

Huo Yuhao was stunned for a moment. "I did, in my storage Soul Tool."

"Good." Mu Chen nodded. "After this match, we'll go to Snack Street for grilled fish."

Then he turned back to face Dai Huabin, the temperature in his blue eyes dropping to freezing.

"Dai Huabin." His voice was calm, so calm it sounded like he was stating a fact. "You say my teammate is dead weight. How about a bet?"

Dai Huabin narrowed his eyes. "What kind of bet?"

"Between our teams, whoever loses must kneel on the stage and kowtow three times to the other side." Mu Chen's voice was neither high nor low, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "If I lose, the three of us will kowtow to you. If you lose, the three of you will kowtow to us."

The entire arena was in an uproar.

In the spectator stands, some gasped, while others stood up in excitement.

Kowtowing in the world of Soul Masters was the ultimate humiliation, far more embarrassing than being beaten a hundred times.

If a direct descendant of the White Tiger Duke's Mansion were to kneel and kowtow in front of the entire academy, the mere image was enough to make everyone hold their breath.

Dai Huabin's expression changed.

He hadn't expected Mu Chen to push things this far. He had only intended to humiliate Huo Yuhao and dampen Mu Chen's morale, but now, the opponent had kicked the ball back, and in front of everyone. If he didn't dare to accept, he would be the one losing face.

Zhu Lu whispered behind him, "Huabin, don't be impulsive."

Dai Huabin ignored her.

His Evil-Eyed White Tiger eyes stared fixedly at Mu Chen, as if confirming whether the other was bluffing.

But he saw no wavering in that blue gaze, only an unquestionable certainty—a certainty that he would win.

"Fine." Dai Huabin squeezed the word through his teeth. "I'll take your bet."

Mu Chen nodded and turned to the referee. "Senior, you heard that."

The referee looked troubled; he glanced at Zhou Yi off the stage.

Zhou Yi pushed up her glasses, expressionless, and gave a slight nod. The referee took a deep breath, stepped back, and raised his right arm.

"Both sides, take your positions."

Mu Chen stepped back three paces, standing in the center-rear of the stage. Wang Dong was half a step to his left, and Huo Yuhao was one meter to his right-rear.

"Yuhao." Mu Chen received the Spiritual Detection Sharing from Huo Yuhao in his consciousness, and a three-dimensional perception map of the entire stage unfolded in his mind.

He didn't speak, merely tracing three trajectories in the perception map with his intent. "Cui Yajie is mine; finish her in three seconds. Wang Dong, pin down Zhu Lu; don't let her and Dai Huabin coordinate. Save Dai Huabin for last."

"Understood." A pink-blue light already glowed in Wang Dong's palms.

"Received." Huo Yuhao's pupils shimmered with a faint gold.

Opposite them, Dai Huabin's trio also set their formation. Dai Huabin in the center, Zhu Lu front-left, and Cui Yajie rear-right—a classic triangle formation of power, agility, and control.

Beneath Dai Huabin's feet, three soul rings lit up—two yellow, one purple. The phantom of the Evil-Eyed White Tiger emerged behind him, white tiger stripes rippling across its fur, radiating a biting, ferocious aura.

Zhu Lu crouched low, two yellow soul rings glowing. The phantom of the Hell Spirit Cat stretched its limbs behind her; her nails sharpened like blades, and her pupils narrowed into slits.

Cui Yajie's two soul rings also lit up—both yellow. The phantom of the Nine-Tailed Fox swayed gracefully, two fluffy fox tails unfurling behind her, and a faint, sweet fragrance filled the air.

"Match start!"

The referee's arm dropped, and he retreated rapidly to the edge of the stage.

Mu Chen moved.

No probing, no hesitation; the Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track was activated the moment the referee's voice fell.

His figure vanished from the spot, leaving not even an afterimage behind, only a faint sound of air being torn as he streaked past.

Cui Yajie's pupils contracted violently.

Her first soul ring lit up at almost the same moment. The Nine-Tailed Fox's control-type soul skill, Fox Charm, could bewitch an opponent's mind and leave them in a brief state of distraction. But she had forgotten two things.

First, Mu Chen's Sea of Consciousness was guarded by Old Tang and Electrolux; any mental-type attack would be automatically neutralized the instant it entered his conscious range.

Second, she had no time to lock onto Mu Chen's position at all.

The bewitching light radiated from Cui Yajie, sending a ripple of pink waves through the air.

But before that ripple had spread even half a meter, a cold halberd shaft was already pressed against the back of her neck.

No soul rings lit up, and no soul skills were released.

It was merely a simple, pure, and unadorned thrust of the halberd shaft.

Cui Yajie's body stiffened. She could feel the icy, briny scent of the sea on the halberd shaft seeping through her skin and into her veins, freezing her blood solid.

The phantom of her Nine-Tailed Fox danced wildly behind her, attempting to turn back and release her second soul skill, but Mu Chen did not give her the chance.

The halberd shaft vibrated, a hidden force piercing through to the bone.

Cui Yajie let out a muffled groan as her body went limp. In her final moment of consciousness, she wondered: when did he get behind me?

From the start of the match to Cui Yajie falling to the ground, less than two seconds had passed.

Dai Huabin's expression changed drastically.

He hadn't even seen the trajectory of Mu Chen's movements before seeing his team's control-type soul master already lying on the arena floor.