Why are you so proud of playing support soul masters?

Flender stood in the center of the training grounds, hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping over the four people before him.

Flender cleared his throat: "To test your practical combat abilities, I have arranged an internal sparring session. Each of you four will face a spirit master of the same rank."

He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and read aloud: "Han Li versus Ning Rongrong, Xiao Yan versus Oscar, Shi Hao versus Ma Hongjun, and Wang Lin versus Zhu Zhuqing."

Xiao Yan was the first to speak up: "Oscar? That guy who makes sausages?"

He turned his head to glance at Oscar standing in the distance. Oscar was gnawing on a sausage, and sensing Xiao Yan's gaze, he gave a goofy smile and waved.

Xiao Yan's face darkened: "You want me to fight a guy who makes sausages?"

Flender remained expressionless: "Oscar is a food-system spirit master, but he is also one of the Shrek Seven Devils; his strength should not be underestimated."

Shi Hao chimed in from the side: "What about me? Who am I facing?"

Flender glanced at the slip of paper: "Ma Hongjun."

Shi Hao followed Flender's gaze to see Ma Hongjun, who was currently gnawing on a chicken leg, his figure round and his face stained with grease.

Shi Hao frowned: "That fatty? He doesn't look like much of a fighter."

The corner of Flender's mouth twitched: "Do not judge a book by its cover."

Wang Lin had not spoken from start to finish. He simply opened his eyes and glanced at his opponent, Zhu Zhuqing.

Zhu Zhuqing also looked at him, her gaze as cold as frost. The two stared at each other for a second before simultaneously looking away.

Han Li walked at the front, his pace neither fast nor slow. As he walked, he observed the surrounding environment. The training ground was open-air, the floor paved with bluestone slabs, and spirit-guided barriers surrounded the perimeter to prevent attacks from leaking out.

Ning Rongrong was already waiting in the center of the arena, her Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda spirit flickering with seven-colored light in her palm, dazzling and eye-catching.

Han Li walked to the spot opposite her and stood still. Ning Rongrong looked at him with a smile, her tone relaxed: "Classmate Han Li, please go easy on me."

Han Li nodded without a word.

The area was already crowded with people: the other members of the Shrek Seven Devils, academy teachers, and quite a few students who had rushed over upon hearing the news.

Flender stood at the edge of the field, holding an hourglass high in the air: "The match begins!"

The hourglass was flipped, and the fine sand began to flow.

Ning Rongrong struck first. Her Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda spirit was fully released, and seven-colored light surged from her palm, condensing above her head into an exquisite, translucent pagoda. It had seven levels, each emitting a different colored glow.

The Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda, the world's number one support spirit: speed boost, strength boost, spirit power boost—three boosts from one pagoda, invincible among peers.

Ning Rongrong's body was enveloped in seven-colored light, and her speed increased instantly. Although she was not skilled in combat, as the young sect master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, she had received basic combat training. With a flash, she reached Han Li, her palm striking toward his shoulder with a trail of seven-colored light.

Han Li did not move.

The moment the palm was about to touch his shoulder, Han Li stepped to the left.

It was only one step, but the timing was perfect. Ning Rongrong's palm grazed his clothes and missed, her force spent, causing her body to tilt slightly forward.

Han Li stood one step away, expressionless. Ning Rongrong steadied herself, turned, and struck again.

Han Li dodged again, still using only one step.

Ning Rongrong attacked continuously, palm after palm, her speed growing faster and faster, leaving trails of seven-colored light in the air.

Han Li shifted and dodged within a tiny space, each step perfectly avoiding the edge of the attack—not a hair more, not a hair less, as if measured by a ruler.

The crowd of onlookers began to stir.

"Why isn't he fighting back?"

"Is he unable to beat her?"

"No way, his opponent is a support-type, and he can't even beat her?"

At the edge of the field, Xiao Yan sneered: "He's walking a dog."

Shi Hao tilted his head and watched for a moment: "No, he's observing."

Wang Lin didn't speak, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

Han Li was indeed observing. He was studying Ning Rongrong's attack patterns. A support-type spirit master's combat style differed from that of an assault-type; they relied more on boosted speed and strength but lacked true combat technique.

That's enough, Han Li thought to himself.

The onlookers were already losing patience.

"Hey ugly, are you going to fight or not!"

"What are you dodging for, acting like a rat!"

"Even the girl is braver than you!"

The corners of Han Li's mouth curled slightly. He hadn't rushed to attack partly to observe his opponent, and partly to leave these people with the impression that he was weak.

Keeping a low profile was the most important survival rule Han Li had followed for thousands of years.

The tree that stands above the forest will be destroyed by the wind.

In this strange world, before figuring out all the rules and factions, the best strategy was to hide one's true strength.

But when it was time to win, he would still win.

Han Li kept his right hand at his side, his fingertips twitching.

The spiritual power of the Heavenly Bottle flowed silently from Han Li's sleeve, spreading along the ground like an invisible serpent, weaving through the gaps between the bluestone slabs.

The spiritual power released no fluctuations; this was Han Li's specialty, utilizing the control of a Mahayana-stage cultivator to manage the minutiae with absolute, airtight precision.

Ning Rongrong remained completely unaware. She continued her assault, sweat already visible on her forehead, her breathing growing rapid.

Though the amplification of the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda was formidable, the consumption required to maintain it was immense. She could not hold on for long. Ning Rongrong thought to herself, her offensive becoming more ferocious, each palm strike faster and heavier than the last.

Then, she could no longer move.

Ning Rongrong's eyes widened. She looked down at her feet, where cyan array patterns had lit up within the gaps of the bluestone, thin as hair and densely packed, locking her feet firmly to the ground.

She struggled, but remained motionless. She struggled again, pushing the amplification of the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda to its limit, yet still, she did not budge.

Han Li walked over slowly. His pace was unhurried and composed, as if he were strolling through his own courtyard. He stopped before Ning Rongrong, raised his right hand, and pressed his index and middle fingers together, a cyan light igniting at their tips.

The sword qi was only an inch long, yet it was so sharp that the air itself trembled. The tip of the blade stopped half an inch from Ning Rongrong's throat. She could feel that cold, death-tinged edge, and the hairs on her body stood on end.

"You lost." Han Li's voice was as flat as if he were remarking that it was a sunny day.

Ning Rongrong froze for one second, two seconds, three seconds. Then, she took a deep breath, and the light of the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda slowly receded, the seven-colored radiance dissipating into the air.

She glanced down at the array patterns at her feet; they had already vanished. Han Li had withdrawn his spiritual power.

"I lost," Ning Rongrong said. There was no resentment in her voice, only a calm acceptance of the outcome.

Han Li withdrew his finger, the sword qi dissipating. He turned and walked off the training ground, his pace slow and steady, exactly the same as when he had arrived. Behind him, Ning Rongrong remained standing in place, looking down at her feet, lost in thought. She raised her head to look at Han Li's retreating back and suddenly felt that this person didn't seem so ugly after all.

The sidelines erupted into chaos.

"What was that? An array?"

"Isn't his Martial Soul a sword? How can he set up arrays?"

"When did he set that up? I didn't even see it!"

"That ugly guy actually has some tricks up his sleeve."

Among the Shrek Seven Devils, Dai Mubai frowned deeply. He could not gauge Han Li's strength—not because it was too weak to see, but because it was too profound to fathom.

Oscar had forgotten to chew his sausage: "Did he... was he holding back the entire time?"

Ma Hongjun was uncharacteristically serious: "He never used his full strength."

Zhu Zhuling's gaze swept back and forth between Wang Lin and Han Li, but she said nothing.

Flender handed the hourglass in his hand to Yu Xiaogang and commented: "Clear tactics, calm and composed, winning at the lowest cost. Han Li, you are impressive."

Han Li nodded slightly, his tone indifferent: "Just good luck."

As Han Li walked back to the group of four, he was silently reviewing the situation in his mind: Ning Rongrong, Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda, the number one support Martial Soul in the world.

This person had a deep background; it was best not to offend her.

Defeating her today was enough to demonstrate his strength, but since he hadn't harmed her in the slightest, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect would not hold a grudge. As for those who called him an ugly guy, he swept a calm, unruffled glance over the crowd and took note of them.

Xiao Yan leaned against the wall with a blade of grass in his mouth, watching Han Li walk back, and scoffed: "Tch, taking so long to beat a support type, I thought you were going to fight until dark."

Han Li looked at him: "You want to go?"

Xiao Yan spat out the grass and sprang off the wall: "Bring it on! Let me show you what efficiency looks like!"

Xiao Yan strode onto the training ground. Oscar was already waiting in the center, still clutching half a sausage. Seeing Xiao Yan approach, he hurriedly shoved the sausage into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he mumbled: "Wait... wait a second, I haven't finished eating..."

Xiao Yan did not wait. One punch. Eight Extremities Collapse.

Oscar flew off the training ground, rolled three times on the ground, and the half-sausage in his hand flew off to who knows where.

The entire arena fell silent. Xiao Yan withdrew his fist, brushed the dust off his hands, and turned to walk back to the team.

When he reached Han Li, he held his chin higher than usual. "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river. See that? That's what you call a fight."

Han Li looked at him expressionlessly, his heart completely unmoved, but the reactions of the people around them caused the smugness on Xiao Yan's face to stiffen into a complex expression somewhere between "speechless" and "disdain."

"What's there to be proud of in beating a food-type Soul Master?"

"Exactly, food-types are support among supports. What's there to brag about?"

"And he even ambushed him; the guy wasn't even ready."

"Is that the level of 'thirty years east of the river'?"

Xiao Yan's face turned blue, then white, then red, then black, finally settling into a frustrated, iron-gray hue.

Han Li stood in place, expressionless, but the corners of his mouth curved upward by a subtle fraction of a millimeter.

Shi Hao added a finishing blow from the side: "That's it?"

Wang Lin also added coldly: "That's it?"

Xiao Yan glared at the two of them, his teeth grinding audibly, but he couldn't get a single word out.

Because he suddenly realized that he really didn't have anything to be proud of. One-shotting a food-type Soul Master who was in the middle of eating a sausage really wasn't worth bragging about.

He silently walked to a corner, crouched down, and began drawing circles on the ground.

Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river—today, the "west of the river" had arrived a bit too quickly.