Teacher Zhou, Keep It Up!! (Please Follow)

Zhou Yi's lips trembled. She wanted to say something, but when her gaze dropped another inch and landed on Tang Wulin's hand hanging at his side, all her words caught in her throat.

Tang Wulin turned his palm over, and a palm-sized silver token flashed briefly between his fingers before he calmly tucked it back into his sleeve.

The movement was so fast it seemed like an illusion.

But Zhou Yi had seen it.

She recognized the pattern engraved on that token—or rather, every teacher who had spent enough years at Shrek Academy would recognize it.

It was the identity token of a Sea God Pavilion member, made of silver and reserved for official elders.

Zhou Yi's back pressed against the old locust tree. The rough bark dug into her shoulder blades through her clothes, but she seemed not to feel it at all.

Her gaze shifted from Tang Wulin's face to his hand, then back to his face. Her throat bobbed, and her whole body visibly crumpled, as if someone had pulled the spine right out of her.

"...I understand." Her voice was terribly hoarse, as though she had forced it out from deep in her throat.

She slowly bent down, took off her high-heeled boots, and stepped barefoot onto the gravel track.

Every time before, she had used her authority to oppress others. She had never expected it to be her turn this time.

And this was someone she couldn't afford to provoke.

Her husband might not necessarily fear an elder of the Sea God Pavilion, but the problem was, how old was this one?

Such a young elder of the Sea God Pavilion, with a four-ring hundred-thousand-year soul ring—this was simply absurd.

She had kicked an iron plate.

Tang Wulin glanced down and sighed, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness and advice. "Teacher, you should run with your shoes on. It's a thousand laps. You won't be able to last without them."

She had better keep those heels on for the run.

Heh!

Zhou Yi froze. With her head lowered, her shoulders rose and fell faintly twice, as if she wanted to say something but swallowed it back down.

She remained silent for several breaths before finally putting her boots back on, fastening the buckles, straightening up, and taking a deep breath before taking her first step.

The second step. The third.

Her back looked somewhat thin in the morning light. The dark red track continuously receded beneath her feet. At first, her pace was still steady, her back held straight, as if she were using the last of her stubborn pride to maintain her dignity.

Tang Wulin withdrew his gaze, took a folding stool from his storage soul tool, placed it beside the track, and sat down with a broad, relaxed posture.

He waved behind him. "Come stand closer. Don't block the track."

The ninety-one new students immediately surged over, lining up neatly along the edge of the track like a row of newly planted saplings sprouting beside the field.

They did not make any noise. They simply watched Zhou Yi run lap after lap past them. Occasionally, someone whispered something in the line, only to be quickly silenced by the others' looks.

Ten laps.

Sweat began to bead at Zhou Yi's temples. Her steps were still fairly steady, and her breathing remained within a controllable range.

Something's wrong! Her soul power!

As she passed Tang Wulin, her gaze swept over him in an instant before she looked away again, her speed unchanged.

Thirty laps.

Her breathing began to grow heavy. A dark patch of sweat spread across the fabric on her back, and her right leg was clearly heavier than her left. Every step she took carried the weight of something forced from the gaps between her bones.

Fifty laps.

She ran half a lap with a hand braced against her waist, then gritted her teeth and straightened again. The swing of her arms had visibly diminished, her shoulders slightly hunched as though she were using all her strength just to hold up her upper body.

Tang Wulin sat on the stool with his legs crossed, one elbow on his knee and his chin resting on the back of his hand. He watched Zhou Yi's figure slowly grow larger in the distance, then smaller again, circling over and over like a tireless pendulum swinging along an elongated line.

People in the line behind him had started yawning, but no one said they wanted to leave.

Seventy laps.

Zhou Yi's steps had begun to stagger. Her left knee buckled, and she nearly dropped to the ground before forcing herself to hold on.

Her face was no longer merely covered in sweat. An unnatural redness had spread around her eyes, her lips were cracked and pale, and her breaths came fast and shallow. Like a fish dragged onto shore, every inhalation carried a distinct tremor.

Blood had begun to seep from the soles of her feet as well. Dark red fluid slowly stained the edges of her boots, trickling down her ankles in thin streams and falling onto the dark red gravel, where it was nearly impossible to distinguish.

Every tiny piece of gravel was like a dull blade, grinding repeatedly against the soles of her already torn feet. The stabbing pain shot from her soles up through her calves, knees, and back, finally gathering in her chest and leaving her unable to breathe.

When she passed Tang Wulin again, her knees gave way once more, and her body involuntarily pitched forward, as if she would collapse onto the track the next second.

Tang Wulin lowered the hand supporting his chin, sat up straight, and called out to her, "Teacher, keep it up! You've already done seventy laps. You're almost there!"

His tone was sincerely encouraging, even carrying the enthusiasm and innocence unique to a young man.

But to Zhou Yi's ears, every word was like a needle, piercing steadily into her heart.

Her shoulders suddenly tensed. A muffled sound, half sob and half gasp, came from her throat. Her steps did not stop; instead, she sped up by half a step.

As she took that half-step, she landed on a slightly larger piece of gravel. It brutally pressed against the wound on her sole, and the piercing pain made her entire calf spasm.

She gave a muffled groan, staggered forward two steps, then gritted her teeth and steadied herself again.

Eighty laps.

She had slowed to an outrageous degree. What was supposed to be running had turned into dragging herself forward. Her knees bent deeper and deeper, her back hunched, and she looked like a dead tree bent by a torrential downpour.

Each time she passed Tang Wulin, her breathing grew heavier and more ragged. Her chest heaved violently, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, yet she could not force out even a complete syllable.

Ninety-five laps.

Zhou Yi could no longer speak at all.

She shuffled along the track like a walking corpse drained of all strength. Every step came with broken breaths and suppressed gasps. She did not dare stop, did not dare look to the side, did not dare see the quietly terrifying gazes in the eyes of the students standing in that neat line.

Her vision began to blur. The outline of the track twisted into one hazy circle after another before her eyes, circles within circles, like a maze that could never be escaped.

Just as she staggered past the starting line of the hundredth lap, a burst of hurried footsteps suddenly came from the direction of the field entrance.

Zhou Yi instinctively raised her head and looked toward the entrance with unfocused eyes.

She saw a familiar figure.