Flender stood in the middle of the training ground, hands on his hips as he surveyed the four people before him.
Flender cleared his throat. "To test your combat abilities, I've arranged an internal sparring match. The four of you will each face a Soul 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, Wang Lin versus Zhu Zhuqing."
Xiao Yan spoke first. "Oscar? The guy who makes sausages?"
He turned to look at Oscar, who was standing in the distance and munching on a sausage. Feeling Xiao Yan's gaze, Oscar gave him a goofy smile and waved.
Xiao Yan's face darkened. "You want me to fight a sausage maker?"
Flender didn't bat an eye. "Oscar is a food-type Soul Master, but he's also one of the Shrek Seven Devils. Don't underestimate his abilities."
Shi Hao interjected from the side. "What about me? Who am I fighting?"
Flender glanced at the slip of paper. "Ma Hongjun."
Shi Hao followed Flender's gaze. Ma Hongjun was munching on a chicken drumstick, his figure plump and grease smeared across his face.
Shi Hao frowned. "That fatty? He doesn't look like much of a fighter."
The corner of Flender's mouth twitched. "Don't judge a book by its cover."
Wang Lin hadn't said a word from start to finish. He simply opened his eyes and looked at his opponent, Zhu Zhuqing.
Zhu Zhuqing looked at him too, her gaze cold as frost. They locked eyes for a second, then both looked away.
Han Li walked at the front, his pace neither fast nor slow. As he went, he studied the surroundings. The training ground was open-air, its surface paved with bluestone slabs. Soul-guiding barriers surrounded it to keep attacks from spilling outside.
Ning Rongrong was already waiting in the middle of the training ground. The Martial Soul of the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda shimmered in her palm with dazzling, multicolored light.
Han Li walked up to her and stopped. Ning Rongrong looked at him with a bright smile, her tone relaxed. "Han Li, please take care of me."
Han Li nodded but said nothing.
The spectators had already crowded around the training ground: the other members of the Shrek Seven Devils, the academy's teachers, and plenty of students who'd come after hearing the news.
Flender stood at the edge of the training ground, holding an hourglass. He raised it high. "Let the matches begin!"
The hourglass was turned over, and the fine sand began to trickle down.
Ning Rongrong made the first move. She fully released her Martial Soul, the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda. A flood of multicolored light surged from her palm and gathered above her head into a crystal-clear, seven-tiered pagoda. Each tier radiated a different color.
The Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda, the world's greatest auxiliary Martial Soul. It boosted speed, strength, and Soul Power—three boosts from one pagoda, unrivaled among those of the same rank.
Ning Rongrong's body was enveloped in multicolored light, and her speed surged in an instant. Though she wasn't skilled at fighting, as the young sect master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, she'd received basic combat training. She blurred forward and appeared before Han Li, her palm flashing with multicolored light as she struck toward his shoulder.
Han Li didn't move.
Just as her palm was about to touch his shoulder, Han Li stepped to the left.
It was only one step, but he timed it perfectly. Ning Rongrong's palm grazed the edge of his clothes and swept past. Her strike met empty air, and her body tilted slightly forward.
Han Li stood a step away, expressionless. Ning Rongrong steadied herself, turned, and struck again.
Han Li dodged once more, moving only a single step.
Ning Rongrong attacked again and again, one strike after another, each faster than the last. The multicolored light left afterimages in the air.
Han Li dodged within a tiny space, each step just enough to evade the edge of an attack, neither more nor less, as if measured with a ruler.
The crowd began to stir.
"Why isn't he fighting back?"
"Is he too weak to?"
"No way. His opponent's an auxiliary-type Soul Master. He can't even beat her?"
Xiao Yan scoffed from the sidelines. "He's playing with her."
Shi Hao tilted his head and watched for a while. "No. He's observing."
Wang Lin said nothing, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
Han Li really was observing. He was studying Ning Rongrong's attack patterns. Auxiliary-type Soul Masters fought differently from those of the Power Attack System. They relied more on the speed and strength granted by their boosts, but lacked genuine combat skills.
That should be enough, Han Li thought.
The spectators were growing impatient.
"Ugly, are you going to fight or not?"
"Why keep dodging? You're like a mouse!"
"Even that girl's braver than you!"
The corner of Han Li's mouth lifted slightly. He'd held back partly to study his opponent and partly to make everyone think he was weak.
Keeping a low profile was the most important rule Han Li had learned in his thousands of years of life.
The tallest tree catches the wind.
In this unfamiliar world, before he understood all its rules and factions, the best strategy was to hide his strength.
But when it was time to win, he still had to win.
Han Li's right hand hung at his side, his fingertips twitching slightly.
The spiritual power of the Heavenly Bottle flowed silently from his sleeve and spread along the ground like an invisible snake, winding through the gaps between the bluestone slabs.
The spiritual power gave off not the slightest ripple. This was what Han Li excelled at: using the control over spiritual power he'd honed as a Mahayana cultivator down to the finest detail, leaving no gap for water to seep through.
Ning Rongrong had no idea. She kept attacking, sweat beading on her forehead as her breathing grew ragged.
The Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda's boosts were powerful, but maintaining them took a heavy toll. She wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. I can't hold out much longer, Ning Rongrong thought, her attacks growing more and more ferocious, each strike faster and heavier than the last.
Then she couldn't move.
Ning Rongrong's eyes widened. She looked down at her feet. Fine, densely packed lines of a formation glowed blue in the gaps between the bluestone slabs, locking her feet firmly to the ground.
She struggled, but didn't budge. She struggled again, unleashing the full power of the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda's boosts, but still didn't budge.
Han Li walked toward her at an unhurried pace, as if strolling through his own courtyard. He stopped in front of Ning Rongrong and raised his right hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together. A streak of blue light gleamed at his fingertips.
The sword energy was barely an inch long, yet so sharp that the air trembled faintly around it. Its tip stopped half an inch from Ning Rongrong's throat. She felt the icy edge, heavy with the scent of death, and every hair on her body stood on end.
"You've lost." Han Li's voice was as calm as if he were saying the weather was fine.
Ning Rongrong froze for a second, then two, then three. Finally, she took a deep breath, and the glow of the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda slowly faded. Its multicolored light dissolved into the air.
She looked down at the formation beneath her feet. Its lines had vanished. Han Li had withdrawn his spiritual power.
"I've lost," Ning Rongrong said. There was no resentment in her voice, only calm acceptance.
Han Li lowered his fingers, and the sword energy vanished. He turned and walked off the training ground, his pace as unhurried as before. Behind him, Ning Rongrong remained where she was, staring down at her feet, lost in thought. Then she lifted her head and watched Han Li's retreating figure. Suddenly, she felt that he didn't seem quite so ugly after all.
The sidelines erupted.
"What was that? A formation?"
"Isn't his Martial Soul a sword? How can he set up formations?"
"When did he set it up? I didn't see a thing!"
"Ugly's got some tricks."
Among the Shrek Seven Devils, Dai Mubai's brow furrowed deeply. He couldn't gauge Han Li's strength—not because Han Li was too weak to read, but because he was too strong.
Oscar had forgotten all about his sausage. "Was he... holding back the whole time?"
Ma Hongjun was unusually serious for once. "He was holding back the whole time."
Zhu Zhuqing's gaze shifted between Wang Lin and Han Li twice. She said nothing.
Flender handed the hourglass to Yu Xiaogang and commented, "Clear tactics, calm and composed, and a victory won at minimal cost. Han Li, well done."
Han Li nodded slightly, his tone indifferent. "I was just lucky."
As Han Li walked back to the group of four, he silently reviewed the match. Ning Rongrong, the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda, the world's greatest auxiliary Martial Soul.
She has powerful backing. I shouldn't offend her.
Beating her today was enough to show my strength, but I didn't hurt her at all. The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect won't hold a grudge. As for those who'd called him ugly, he silently swept his gaze over the crowd and memorized their faces.
Xiao Yan leaned against the wall with a blade of grass between his teeth. Watching Han Li return, he scoffed. "Tch, it took you half the day to beat an auxiliary-type Soul Master. I thought you'd be at it until nightfall."
Han Li looked at him. "Want to try?"
Xiao Yan spat out the blade of grass and pushed away from the wall. "Bring it on! I'll show you what efficiency looks like!"
Xiao Yan strode onto the training ground. Oscar was already waiting in the middle, still holding half a sausage. When he saw Xiao Yan approach, he hurriedly stuffed the sausage into his mouth. With his cheeks bulging, he mumbled, "W-wait a second, I haven't finished eating..."
Xiao Yan didn't wait. One punch. Eight Extremities Collapse.
Oscar went flying off the training ground and rolled three times across the ground. The half sausage in his hand flew off to who knew where.
The whole place fell silent. Xiao Yan lowered his fist, dusted off his hands, and turned to walk back to the group.
When he reached Han Li, he lifted his chin higher than usual. "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west. See? That's how you fight."
Han Li watched him expressionlessly, his thoughts utterly undisturbed. But the reaction from everyone around them made the smug look on Xiao Yan's face freeze. Their expressions were complicated, somewhere between speechless and disdainful.
"What's there to be proud of when you beat an auxiliary-type Soul Master?"
"Exactly. Food-type Soul Masters are the most auxiliary of all. What's there to brag about?"
"And you ambushed him. He wasn't even ready."
"Thirty years east of the river, and that's all you've got?"
Xiao Yan's face turned green, then white, then red, then black, finally settling into an angry, iron-blue grimace.
Han Li stood there expressionlessly, but the corner of his mouth lifted by a fraction of a millimeter.
Shi Hao piled on from the side. "That's it?"
Wang Lin added coolly, "That's it?"
Xiao Yan glared at them, his teeth grinding audibly, but he couldn't get a single word out.
Because he'd suddenly realized that maybe he really didn't have much to be proud of. He'd punched out a food-type Soul Master who'd been in the middle of eating a sausage. Winning in one punch really wasn't worth bragging about.
He silently went to squat in a corner and began drawing circles.
Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west. This time, the west had come a little too soon.
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