Come.

Zhong Shenxiu replied simply, "I want to challenge my limits."

His voice was calm and even, as though he were discussing something utterly ordinary.

Wu Zhangkong looked at him.

Something flickered through those cold, detached eyes.

He did not speak immediately. He merely looked at Zhong Shenxiu.

Sunlight fell across his white robes, making his entire presence seem even more cold and aloof, like frost.

Zhong Shenxiu met his gaze.

Those pale golden vertical pupils held neither evasion nor expectation. He simply looked back calmly.

After a long while.

Wu Zhangkong spoke. "Follow me."

He did not ask anything further. He did not question him or say things like, "You only have two rings," or, "Are you insane?"

He merely turned and walked deeper into the campus.

Zhong Shenxiu followed.

Their footsteps rang especially clearly through the early-morning campus.

Zhong Shenxiu trailed half a step behind Wu Zhangkong, following at an unhurried pace. His gaze swept over the trees, lawns, and school buildings by the road before returning to Wu Zhangkong's back.

That figure stood straight as a pine, his stride steady. The distance of every step was almost exactly the same.

Zhong Shenxiu thought of the powerful figures he had seen in the Dragon Fighting World.

They had been the same.

The way they walked, the posture in which they stood, the rhythm of their breathing—every detail revealed who they were and what they had experienced.

Wu Zhangkong was the same.

Zhong Shenxiu could tell.

It was a kind of... composure that could only come after walking along the edge of life and death countless times.

That was what he needed.

Not the shocked looks from people his age.

Not the labels of "genius" and "monster" from his teachers.

But a true opponent.

An opponent who could make him feel the threat of death.

Because—

He was starting to be unable to bear it.

Unable to bear this comfortable life.

He had never told anyone that.

Even to himself, he had only admitted it for the first time last night, while standing on the balcony.

Over the past nine years, half his life had been spent in Dream Trials filled with slaughter and death, in the depths of misery.

No.

Not half.

Every single night.

Every night, he fought, slaughtered, and died.

Every night, he was torn apart, pierced through, burned, and devoured.

Then he woke the next day, faced the same opponents again, fought again, and died again.

That kind of life was hell.

But now, the trial was over.

He no longer had to endure those nightmares.

That should have been a good thing.

But he was not used to it.

He actually was not used to it.

He was actually nostalgic for that hell.

He actually craved the feeling of struggling on the brink of death.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He cursed himself again in his heart.

But he knew that was the truth.

Nine years of slaughter had seeped into his very bones.

Those bloody nights, those desperate moments, those countless deaths and countless times he had risen again—they had already become part of him.

A part he could not cut away.

A peaceful life had instead become torment to him.

That was why he had sought out Wu Zhangkong.

Because in all of Eastsea Academy, Wu Zhangkong was the only person who could give him a true sense of death.

A six-ringed Soul Emperor.

The Sky Frost Sword.

That man in white, pure as snow and cold as frost.

Zhong Shenxiu looked at Wu Zhangkong's back, and a faint glimmer ignited in his pale golden vertical pupils.

It was anticipation.

It was desire.

It was... hunger.

The two crossed the field, passed around the school buildings, and finally stopped before an inconspicuous structure.

It was the Indoor Training Room.

It was normally used by students for private training and required an application to use.

Zhong Shenxiu knew that Wu Zhangkong had specifically requested one to give Tang Wulin, Gu Yue, and Xie Xie special training.

Wu Zhangkong pushed open the door and walked inside.

Zhong Shenxiu followed.

The training room was large.

It was half the size of a field. The floor was covered in specially made metal plates, while the surrounding walls were filled with soul-tool defensive arrays. Training equipment was piled in the corners—wooden dummies, sandbags, and iron frames.

It was empty.

At this early hour, there were not many students even on the academy roads, much less inside an Indoor Training Room.

At this moment, only the two of them were here.

Wu Zhangkong walked to the center of the training room, turned around, and faced Zhong Shenxiu.

"Ready?"

he asked.

Zhong Shenxiu did not answer.

He merely took a deep breath.

Then—

A low dragon roar faintly rose from within his body.

The roar was soft, yet it carried an indescribable pressure, as though some ancient creature slumbering for ages was awakening.

Zhong Shenxiu's tall body rose slightly. Dense pale golden dragon scales surged forth like a tide from his neck and the ends of his limbs, instantly covering every vital part of his body.

His ten fingers extended, transforming into pale golden dragon claws as sharp as blades.

The contours of his face grew sharper, while two short, hard brilliant gold dragon horns emerged from either side of his forehead, like the beginnings of a crown.

Two yellow soul rings rose from beneath his feet and slowly revolved.

Yet the most intimidating thing was his eyes.

Those eyes had completely transformed into molten-gold vertical pupils, as though liquid light burned within them. The pressure and savagery of an apex predator were no longer concealed, pouring freely through the empty training room.

Zhong Shenxiu raised his right hand and made a grasping motion.

Sky Light Dragon Spear.

The light in the training room seemed to dim for an instant—all radiance frantically gathered toward his palm, compressed and solidified into a dragon-shaped spear over twelve feet long.

The spear was blazing white from end to end, pale golden patterns flowing across its surface. Its spearhead resembled a dragon's fang, gleaming with lethal cold light beneath the morning sun.

The spear shaft hummed.

The hum was soft, yet it carried a force that seemed to pierce the soul.

Zhong Shenxiu gripped the shaft tightly and looked at Wu Zhangkong.

Battle intent blazed like fire in those molten-gold vertical pupils.

He did not speak.

He merely looked at Wu Zhangkong and waited—

Waited for Wu Zhangkong to announce the start.

Wu Zhangkong looked at the child before him.

No.

The... monster before him.

He had seen countless geniuses.

At Shrek, on the battlefield, and in places where the truly elite young talents gathered.

But he had never seen anything like this.

Those two yellow soul rings, that Dragon Spear condensed from light, those vertical pupils burning with battle intent—everything told him that this child was unlike anyone he had ever encountered.

That was not talent.

That was... something more fundamental.

Wu Zhangkong raised his right hand.

Sky Frost Sword.

There was no process of Martial Soul Possession, no sign of soul rings appearing—he simply raised his hand, and an ice-blue longsword appeared in his grasp. The blade was as transparent as ice, faint Frost Mist flowing along its edge. The air within three meters instantly plummeted in temperature, and even a thin layer of frost formed on the floor.

Six soul rings rose beneath his feet.

Four purple and two black.

The six soul rings slowly revolved, radiating suffocating pressure.

That was a Soul Emperor.

A being standing in the upper-middle tier of the Soul Master world's pyramid.

Zhong Shenxiu looked at those six soul rings, at the Sky Frost Sword, and at the man dressed in snow-white robes.

His heartbeat accelerated.

Not from fear.

But from excitement.

From the excitement of finally... finally being able to get serious.

Wu Zhangkong looked at him.

A rare trace of complicated emotion surfaced in those cold, detached eyes.

Then he spoke.

He said only one word:

"Come."

The word fell, and the sword rose.