Shrek Had Become a Bunch of Pig Heads, and They Were Sleeping Together?

Flender stood beneath the moonlight, the wrinkles on his pale face clearly visible.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening and relaxing before he finally spoke.

"My philosophy really was utter crap."

His voice was hoarse and dry.

"But my intentions were good.

I wanted the students to gain more real combat experience. Only real combat could improve their experience."

He spoke half the truth.

He left the other half unsaid.

He also wanted to make money off talented students. Shrek was too poor. The shabby wooden houses leaked wind and rain, and the training equipment was all secondhand.

Even Zhao Wuji's meal expenses gave him headaches.

He needed money and fame. What was wrong were his methods.

The Spirit Hall elder was a lie.

"Those Soul Masters who don't cause trouble aren't good Soul Masters" was wrong.

At the very least, he should have taught the students to distinguish what they could provoke from what would cost them their heads.

He just had not expected Ma Hongjun to be so controlled by Evil Fire that he lost all ability to discern right from wrong.

Flender believed he had done everything he could to suppress it, but today had shown him that it was far from enough.

This fatty had harassed Zhu Zhuqing and even wanted to take her away by force. That was not causing trouble. That was courting death.

At the root of it all, his teaching had failed. He had allowed Ma Hongjun to become so reckless that he overestimated himself.

That was why he admitted his philosophy was wrong, admitted there were problems with his teaching, and admitted that the Spirit Hall elder was nothing but a boast.

But he did not want to slap himself in the face. His left arm was broken and his dignity shattered, but he still had his pride.

He raised his head and looked at Fang Fan.

"My philosophy was wrong, but I did nothing wrong. Why should I slap myself?"

Then he looked at Ma Hongjun.

"You slap yourself. You really were wrong."

"Slap, slap."

Ma Hongjun raised his hand and struck himself, the slaps loud and crisp as his fat jiggled wildly and mud splashed outward.

With every slap, his face swelled more and his voice grew hoarser, but he neither stopped nor held back.

"My Martial Soul is a Grass Chicken!"

He listened to Flender very well.

Flender had brought him out of Grass Chicken Village.

In that remote little village, his Evil Fire had awakened and burned down half the village.

The entire village had driven him out. Even his biological parents had not dared take him in.

Flender told him that the Evil Fire Phoenix was a gift, and helped

him find ways to suppress it.

He had turned him from a despised monster into a true Soul Master.

So when Flender told him to apologize, he apologized.

When Flender told him to slap himself, he slapped himself.

But Flender had personally said today that his philosophy was wrong.

Those words hurt him more than a hundred slaps combined.

All the convictions he had once taken pride in

had been built upon a mistake.

He felt like a clown. He had run rampant through Suotuo City, yet in the eyes of true experts, he was not worth a fart.

But he did not want to die.

He had seen that sword intent that split the sky with absolute clarity.

That drunken man had sprawled over a young girl's shoulder, yet casually unleashed the might to tear apart the heavens.

So he kept slapping himself, one slap after another.

His face swelled further and his voice became hoarser, but he did not stop.

"You two slap yourselves too."

Fang Fan raised a hand and pointed at Zhao Wuji and Li Yusong.

"Hurry up. We still need to travel after you finish."

Zhao Wuji's eyes widened.

He had behaved himself after being sent flying the first time.

He had become even more obedient after Du Busi scared the wits out of him the second time.

Other than dragging Ma Hongjun out, he had not even lifted a finger.

Why did it come to him having to slap himself too?

He looked at Flender with grievance, but Flender's face was expressionless.

He looked at Fang Fan's lazy yet non-negotiable eyes.

Then he remembered the Mountain-Splitting Sword Intent, gritted his teeth, and raised his huge fan-like hand to slap his face.

"Slap, slap."

The slaps were heavy and dull, making his bald head tremble with every blow.

He wept inwardly. A level seventy-two Soul Sage, the Immovable Bright King,

had been able to escape unharmed even when surrounded by dozens of Spirit Hall deacons, yet today he was slapping himself because of a student.

But he did not stop. He knew full well that Shrek could not escape responsibility for what had happened today.

He was a Shrek teacher. A teacher had to bear joint responsibility for a student's mistakes.

Li Yusong's old face was filled with speechless frustration.

He had merely followed along to watch. He had not even said anything harsh, so why was he getting dragged into this too?

His skinny fingers rose and lightly patted his old face.

As he slapped himself, he sighed. Even the dean was slapping himself.

Zhao Wuji was slapping himself too.

How tough could he, a mere Soul Emperor, possibly act?

He would just take the blame for the academy.

His slaps were not hard, but every one of them carried deep helplessness.

Seeing that they had all raised their hands, Flender knew he could not escape it.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and fiercely slapped his face with his only remaining right hand.

They slapped and shouted again. Their four faces became increasingly swollen and increasingly ridiculous.

Under the moonlight, their red, swollen faces turned purple, their eyes squeezed into slits, and their mouths twisted sideways.

Ma Hongjun had already looked like a pig head, and now his facial features were even harder to make out.

With his bald head and swollen face, Zhao Wuji looked just like a bear stung by bees.

Li Yusong's wrinkles had been stretched smooth instead, making him look ten years younger.

Flender's black-rimmed glasses sat crookedly on his swollen nose. As the final cry of "Grass Chicken" faded into the night wind,

Fang Fan nodded and turned away. He neither bid them farewell, mocked them, nor gave them another glance.

Zhu Zhuqing and Ning Rongrong followed behind him.

The moonlight stretched the shadows of the three of them long, long behind them.

The three silhouettes gradually drifted farther away and disappeared into the darkness.

Ning Rongrong stopped in front of the finest hotel in the city. It was a four-story building with a gilded signboard, dark red carpeting in the lobby, and blue-and-white porcelain vases in the corners.

"Three luxury rooms."

She took out a Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect money pouch, Gold Soul Coins clinking inside.

"Two rooms."

Fang Fan spoke vaguely.

"I'm staying with Zhuqing."

Ning Rongrong's hand froze in midair, and the Gold Soul Coins slipped back into the pouch.

She looked at Fang Fan, drunkenly leaning against Zhu Zhuqing's shoulder, then looked at Zhu Zhuqing.

The other girl's face was slightly red, yet she said nothing.

She neither refuted nor refused it, nor did she seem surprised.

It was as though "I'm staying with Zhuqing" was as ordinary as saying, "We're having braised pork tonight."

"I need to feed him wine."

Feeling that probing gaze, Zhu Zhuqing's small face reddened further, though her tone remained cool and calm.

Ning Rongrong looked at the two of them and felt that something was off.

Feed him wine?

From the moment she had met them, Zhu Zhuqing had been feeding him.

She fed him on the road, on the grassland, before fights, and after fights.

What secret did this wine hold?

Her curiosity itched, but she could not bring herself to ask.

She could only suppress her doubts and have the innkeeper change it to two of the most expensive luxury rooms.

Fang Fan and Zhu Zhuqing returned to their room.

Moonlight streamed through the carved wooden window and fell across the dark red carpet.

Zhu Zhuqing pulled out the stopper and brought the jug to Fang Fan's lips. The amber liquor slid down his throat. He sighed in satisfaction, then fell backward onto the bed with his limbs spread wide.

After feeding him, she gently set down the wine jug and entered the bathroom.

Hot water washed over her smooth skin, filling the room with white mist.

She tilted her head slightly back and let the water flow across her collarbone, over the fading scars that had scabbed over, across her full breasts and slender waist.

The exhaustion of the day melted away in the steam. She touched the healing wound at her waist and remembered last night.

She had also bathed first, then slept in the same bed as Fang Fan. When she woke this morning, her Soul Power had somehow risen by an entire level.

That was no coincidence.

From the accelerated healing of her wound in the wilderness, to the sudden increase in her Soul Power this morning, to the warm current that entered her body every time she fed him wine,

she naturally knew that all of it was connected to Fang Fan.

Cultivating near him made her improve faster. Touching him made her Soul Power rise even more sharply. Holding him while sleeping for a night had directly allowed her to break through a level.

Her cheeks burned. It was not entirely from embarrassment. Well, not entirely.

It was because of a certain expectation she could not put into words.

She wanted to continue tonight, but how could she say it? Was she supposed to say, "I want to sleep while holding you because it can increase my Soul Power"?

She would never say that, even if it killed her.

After drying herself and changing into a clean nightdress, she stepped out of the bathroom.

Fang Fan was still sprawled out, occupying the middle of the bed. Moonlight edged his handsome face in soft silver.

She carefully lifted a corner of the blanket and lay down, deliberately leaving some distance between them, though not too much.