Let Them See What a Real Team Is

Soto Great Spirit Arena, Seventh Spirit Arena.

Tonight, the stands were more packed than usual. The Shrek Seven Monsters' team spirit battle in the previous round had made quite a name for them. Today, Yu Xiaogang had deliberately picked a tough opponent. Once word got out, spirit battle enthusiasts from half of Soto City had come to watch.

In the preparation area, the Shrek Seven Monsters stood in a line.

Yu Xiaogang stood before them with his hands behind his back, his tone calm. "Tonight's opponents are the Ironwall Berserker Team. They've won three consecutive matches at Soto City's Spirit Arena. Their lineup consists of three berserker-type Battle Soul Elders and two support-type Soul Masters. They specialize in countering control formations."

"Tonight, let them see what a real team is."

Tang San said nothing. His gaze rested on the entrance passage opposite them, while the tips of Blue Silver Grass had already poked half an inch out from his sleeves.

The referee's whistle sounded.

The Shrek Seven Monsters stepped onto the spirit battle stage one after another. Tang San walked at the front, his peripheral vision sweeping over the shadows of the preparation area—Chen Xuan sat there, idly playing with a rusty iron spoon in his hand as he watched Tang San like he was enjoying a show.

Tang San withdrew his gaze and walked to the center of the spirit battle stage.

The five members of the Ironwall Berserker Team had also taken their positions opposite them.

The match began.

Tang San's Blue Silver Grass spread out in an instant. Rather than weaving a net immediately, he first used Spiderweb Binding to probe their positions, then swiftly shifted into a serpentine formation. He needed to sever the links between the three of them and prevent them from exerting force at the same time.

His reaction was fast. But theirs was faster.

The instant the whistle blew, all three berserkers activated their Berserk states at once. Their eyes turned blood-red, the muscles across their bodies swelled explosively, and their soul power fluctuations rose at a rate visible to the naked eye. The support Soul Masters' radiance descended over their heads simultaneously, while shields that continuously restored their health made their presence even more ferocious.

They did not even look at the Blue Silver Grass.

Two berserkers tore apart the vines on the left at the same time and rammed Dai Mubai straight off the stage.

Dai Mubai hit the ground and slid two meters before stopping, then spat out a mouthful of blood.

Xiao Wu cut in from the right, attempting to lock one berserker's joints with her soft skill. But his brute force was too overwhelming. She was flung away and slammed into the barrier at the edge of the spirit battle stage, leaving her back numb from the impact.

Tang San's Blue Silver Grass kept tightening, pulling, and winding, trying to rebuild the formation. But every vine he had just arranged was torn apart by the berserkers' bare hands. Fragments of Blue Silver Grass drifted everywhere across the spirit battle stage.

His fingers trembled violently. His palms were covered in cracks torn open by the backlash of soul power, blood seeping out before quickly drying. Below the stage, Yu Xiaogang stared at Tang San's hands. His lips moved as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, not a word came out.

The opposing captain leaped high into the air, his giant axe cleaving straight toward Ning Rongrong with a piercing whistle. She stood at the very rear of the formation, and Dai Mubai, the only one who could protect her, was already lying below the stage. Tang San's Blue Silver Grass tried to drag her away—but two of his main control vines had been crushed beneath the berserkers' feet, leaving him unable to exert any force. Even the trajectories of his hidden weapons had been predicted and blocked by the opposing support Soul Masters, leaving him unable to fire them.

He could only watch as that giant axe fell.

In the shadows of the preparation area, Chen Xuan slipped the iron spoon into his pocket. His gaze remained fixed on Tang San's right hand—every time the boy's Blue Silver Grass was torn apart, his hand would shift toward his waist. When the sixth vine shattered, it moved. The eighth vine too. What about the tenth?

He kept counting. The tenth vine broke, and the hand moved again. The twelfth shattered, and it made the same motion.

Chen Xuan lowered his eyes to Tang San's waist. The position, range, and timing of every raised hand were almost identical. This was not adapting on the fly. It was a conditioned reflex carved into his bones. Whenever he was driven into a corner, his first instinct was always to reach for hidden weapons.

Chen Xuan counted silently. He waited for an opening—for the instant when the Blue Silver Grass completely snapped, Tang San was forced to retreat, and the opposing berserkers pressed forward with the momentum. That was the only gap in this chaotic battle where no one would be watching.

He stood up. A dim yellow light began to glow in his palm.

A few seconds later, Tang San's Blue Silver Grass completely collapsed, forcing him half a step back. The opposing berserkers' attention pressed forward in unison, forming a brief advancing line, while the support Soul Masters behind them adjusted their positions accordingly.

That gap had appeared.

Chen Xuan stepped out from the shadows. The lights beneath the stage fell across his shoulders, coating the dark yellow claw blades in a layer of cold gold.