Eight o'clock the next morning, third floor of the teaching building.
Ma Hongjun appeared in the classroom, causing quite a stir among the students.
"Am I seeing things? Ma Hongjun came to class?"
"Did the sun rise in the west?"
"Doesn't F4 never attend theory classes?"
Whispers spread through the classroom.
Ma Hongjun found a seat in the corner of the last row, pulled up the hood of his gray jacket, and huddled in the corner.
His goal was clear: keep an eye on Xiao Wu and the others and see if they did anything unusual today.
In the front row by the window, Xiao Wu and Ning Rongrong sat side by side.
Xiao Wu wore a pink, floor-length gauze dress today. Her Scorpion Braid was neatly done, its end tied with a pink ribbon bow. A pair of rabbit-ear ornaments was clipped to the top of her head, their white fur glimmering faintly in the sunlight coming through the window.
Ning Rongrong sat beside her in a blue skirt and white stockings, her short boots resting on the chair rung as she flipped through a notebook.
Zhu Zhuqing sat one row behind them, the zipper of her black leather jacket pulled up to her chest. She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, resting with her eyes closed.
Bai Chenxiang sat beside Zhu Zhuqing in a pale green dress, her two low ponytails hanging quietly as she read a cultivation manual with her head bowed.
The four of them looked no different from usual.
Ma Hongjun narrowed his eyes and watched them for a while. When he saw nothing unusual, sleepiness began to creep over him.
At half past eight, the bell rang.
The classroom door swung open, and a middle-aged man walked in. He had short black hair and a tall, lean build, wore a dark robe, and carried two books under his arm.
Yu Xiaogang. He was over fifty, despite having only reached level 30.
A theory teacher at the Spirit Academy, he was said to have been a genius in his youth. Later, something went wrong with his Martial Soul, and his strength never improved, so he changed careers and became a teacher. His theoretical knowledge ranked among the best in the academy, but the students had only one word for his classes: soporific.
"Good morning, everyone." Yu Xiaogang placed his books on the podium.
"Today we'll continue where we left off with Martial Soul compatibility theory."
The students groaned in unison.
Yu Xiaogang opened his book, cleared his throat, and launched into a long-winded lecture.
"Students, I've said this many times. In this world, there are no useless Martial Souls, only useless Soul Masters."
Yu Xiaogang said this in every class. The students were practically able to recite it by now.
"The strength of a Martial Soul doesn't lie in its form, but in how the Soul Master develops and uses it. A grass-type Martial Soul can become a deadly weapon in the hands of a genius. A dragon-type Martial Soul is nothing but a decoration in the hands of a mediocrity."
Yu Xiaogang grew more animated as he spoke and began giving examples.
"Look at history, past and present. How many seemingly ordinary Martial Souls have eventually produced Titled Douluo? With enough effort, an iron pestle can be ground down to a needle. Even a chrysanthemum Martial Soul can become a Douluo! With the right method and the right path, nothing is impossible."
A boy in the front row raised his hand.
"Teacher, I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"My childhood friend's Martial Soul is a hoe, and his Innate Soul Power is level one. Is there any hope for him?"
The classroom erupted in laughter.
Yu Xiaogang didn't feel awkward at all. Instead, he nodded very seriously.
"Of course there's hope. Haven't you heard? If you swing your hoe well, what city wall can't you dig through?"
"Uh..." The boy froze for a moment, feeling that something about that didn't sound quite right.
A girl nearby raised her hand too.
"Teacher, my little sister's Martial Soul is a husky, and her Innate Soul Power is level one. Is there any hope for her?"
Yu Xiaogang pondered for two seconds, then said earnestly, "There is. With enough effort, even a husky can beat a dragon. Slimes can beat dragons too, so a husky can do it!"
The classroom broke into laughter again.
"Look at Zhu Zhuqing's Martial Soul. Isn't it a cat? She's now one of the top Agility Attack System Soul Masters in the class."
Someone in the back muttered under his breath, "That's a Hell Spirit Cat, teacher. It's not the same as an ordinary tabby..."
Yu Xiaogang didn't hear him and continued droning on about his theories.
Things like "Martial Soul resonance," "Soul Power circulation efficiency," and "making up for an innate deficiency through later effort." Every theory was backed by evidence, with citations from classical texts and references from all sides.
The problem was, it was just too soporific.
Ma Hongjun hadn't planned to listen to class. He was there to keep watch. But Yu Xiaogang's steady voice and dry subject matter were just like a lullaby.
Ma Hongjun's eyelids began to droop. He pinched his thigh hard and managed to stay awake for three seconds.
Yu Xiaogang's voice drifted over again. "...So the essence of a Martial Soul is, in fact, an external projection of the Soul Master's spirit..."
Ma Hongjun's head began to nod lower and lower.
He lay down on his desk, thinking, I'll just close my eyes for a minute. Just one minute. Xiao Wu and the others are sitting right in front of me anyway. They're not going anywhere.
One minute turned into five. Five minutes turned into half an hour.
Ma Hongjun's snores came from the last row of the classroom, faint but steady, like a little motor.
Xiao Wu glanced back, exchanged a look with Ning Rongrong, and they both rolled their eyes at the same time.
"Why did someone from F4 come to class?" Xiao Wu whispered.
Ning Rongrong leaned toward her and lowered her voice. "That's strange. Ma Hongjun never comes to theory classes."
"Who cares? Could he be here to pick on Bai Chenxiang?"
Hearing her name, Bai Chenxiang shrank back and instinctively edged closer to Zhu Zhuqing.
Zhu Zhuqing opened her eyes and glanced toward Ma Hongjun in the back.
"He's asleep."
"Then let's leave him alone." Xiao Wu turned back and continued listening to Yu Xiaogang's soporific class.
After theory class came the last class of the morning.
Practical combat.
The classroom door was shoved open with a bang, hit the wall, and bounced back.
A man as sturdy as an iron tower walked in. His shoulders were so broad they nearly filled the doorframe, his neck was as thick as a thigh, and his black training clothes stretched taut over the contours of his muscles.
Zhao Wuji.
A level 76 Soul Sage, of the Power Attack System. His Martial Soul was the Vajra Bear.
The fiercest practical combat teacher in the entire academy, bar none.
The moment he stepped up to the podium, the atmosphere in the whole classroom changed. The students who had been nodding off in Yu Xiaogang's class all sat up straight.
"Practical combat today." Zhao Wuji's voice boomed like thunder. "No need for a lot of nonsense. I'll explain today's training, then we'll head to the academy training grounds."
He raised the roster in his hand and glanced over it.
"Today's lesson is a three-on-three team battle exercise. We'll form groups by drawing lots—"
Zhao Wuji stopped halfway through his sentence. The classroom was quiet, but one sound stood out sharply.
A steady, continuous snoring from the last row.
Zhao Wuji's brow furrowed as his gaze swept toward the back.
In the corner of the last row, a student in a gray jacket was lying on his desk, his head buried in his arms, fast asleep with drool running from his mouth. A tuft of red hair poked out from under his hood, glaringly bright in the light.
"Hm?" Zhao Wuji slapped the roster down on the podium.
Every student in the class turned to look at the back in a flash.
"Haha, this is going to be good."
The whispers had barely begun.
Zhao Wuji was already striding toward the back row.
His boots struck the floor with every step, each one like a drumbeat. Thud, thud, thud—the whole classroom trembled faintly.
He reached Ma Hongjun's desk.
Zhao Wuji looked down at him for two seconds, then the corners of his mouth turned down.
Bang!
He kicked one of the desk's legs.
The desk tilted forty-five degrees, and the textbooks on its surface all slid to the floor with a clatter.
Ma Hongjun lost his support. His head slid off his arms, his chin smacked against the edge of the desk, and then his whole body slid down the slanted tabletop.
Crash! Ma Hongjun landed flat on his face, his nose nearly squashed against the floor.
"Damn it, you've got a death wish! Just wait till I—" Ma Hongjun sprang to his feet, rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and was about to activate his Soul Skill.
Then he saw who was standing in front of him.
A mountain of flesh blocked his way. Zhao Wuji's square, block-shaped face was less than half a meter away, his eyes wide as brass bells.
Ma Hongjun's fist instantly unclenched. "Oh... Teacher... Sorry."
Zhao Wuji didn't move. He just looked down at him from above. He didn't even move his lips, yet the pressure in his gaze was already making sweat break out across Ma Hongjun's back.
"Ma Hongjun." Zhao Wuji's voice was low. It was even more frightening than his booming voice.
"You can skip my class. But as long as you're sitting in this classroom, you follow my rules."
Ma Hongjun's neck shrank back. "Yes, yes, teacher. I understand."
Zhao Wuji turned and walked back. Two steps later, he stopped and tossed out a remark without looking back.
"Don't let it happen again. Otherwise, I'll give you a failing grade on the quarterly exam, whether you've reached level 60 or not. Got that?"