The story of the pot-braised beef

"First-year Class Five wins!"

Long Hengxu announced the result loudly, his voice betraying barely concealed astonishment. His gaze did not fall on Gu Yue and Xie Xie, who had attacked head-on, but remained firmly fixed on Tang Wulin. A child with only level-four innate soul power had actually wielded the most ordinary Blue Silver Grass martial soul with such mastery. Battlefield control, support, and coordination flowed together seamlessly, keeping the initiative firmly in his grasp throughout the match. It was simply inconceivable.

After the match, Tang Wulin and his two companions headed to the cafeteria together. Beside the arena, Ye Yingrong took a soul communication device from inside her clothes and dialed a number.

"Sis."

A cool female voice came from the other end. "What is it? Did you lose?"

"Yes, we lost." Ye Yingrong gave a bitter laugh.

"They had a flying soul master too?" The voice sounded slightly surprised.

"No." Ye Yingrong shook her head, her tone complicated. "We lost precisely because they had a soul master with a Blue Silver Grass martial soul."

"Blue Silver Grass?" Disbelief crept into the cool voice. "How is that possible?"

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. That child's control of Blue Silver Grass was as refined as fire brought to perfect heat. He held the rhythm of the entire match in his hands and never gave Tianri and the others the slightest chance to show what they could do." Ye Yingrong paused, then added, "Sis, consider this a warning. Students trained by Wu Changkong aren't easy to deal with. If you face them later, be careful."

The other end fell silent for a moment before the voice grew colder. "I've remembered how he humiliated me back then for two years. This time, I'll pay him back in full."

The call ended as soon as she finished speaking. Listening to the busy tone, Ye Yingrong sighed helplessly. "Honestly, all he did was turn down your confession, and you've held a grudge this long."

After lunch, the three were heading toward their classroom when Zhou Changxi came running toward them and blocked their path.

"Wulin! Something's wrong!" Zhou Changxi was panting. "A crowd showed up at the academy gates with photos of you guys and Gu Yue. They're blocking the entrance and demanding that the academy hand you over. People from the administration office will probably be here any moment!"

All three hearts sank at once-trouble had come knocking.

Tang Wulin instinctively raised his hand and took the communication device Mu Chen had given him from his storage soul tool ring. After thinking it over carefully, he realized there was no hiding the incident with Guang Long. His teacher Mu Chen would find out sooner or later. Rather than let his teacher wonder whether he distrusted him, he might as well explain everything now. His fingers quickly dialed the number.

Beep-the call connected, and Mu Chen's hearty, middle-aged voice came through. "Wulin? What's wrong?"

Tang Wulin gave a full, honest account of how he had intervened against a thug on the snack street yesterday and how the other party had now brought men to the academy.

After listening, Mu Chen frowned slightly. He considered for a moment, then said, "Understood. Are you still at the academy? I'll be right over." With that, he ended the call.

Tang Wulin had initially been reluctant to trouble the teacher he had only just apprenticed himself to. But after turning it over in his mind last night, he had ultimately decided he ought to tell him. He had gotten into trouble outside school; asking only his academy teacher to intervene while keeping his own master in the dark would have been indefensible, whether judged by affection or reason.

Ending the call, Tang Wulin turned to Gu Yue and Xie Xie. "Come on. Let's find Teacher Wu first."

Wu Changkong always kept a regular schedule and was currently in the teachers' dormitory. Dressed in a plain white, old-fashioned robe, he opened the door to find the three standing outside. His tone was cold. "Anything else?"

"Teacher, trouble has come knocking." Tang Wulin stepped forward and spoke gravely.

Wu Changkong was silent for a moment, then uttered a single word. "Come."

The three followed Wu Changkong straight toward the academy gates.

By then, the entrance to Eastsea Academy was already packed so tightly that not even water could pass through. Over a hundred fierce-looking men blocked the gates, holding all manner of weapons, including offensive soul tools expressly prohibited by the Federation. Many students from both the intermediate and advanced divisions had also rushed over after hearing the news and stood nearby, murmuring among themselves.

At the front of the crowd, three burly men held enormous photographs aloft, plainly displaying the faces of Tang Wulin, Gu Yue, and Xie Xie. Beside them hung a glaring banner that read, "A life for a life, repayment for a debt. Hand over the attackers."

"Who are you? How dare you trespass and cause trouble at the academy!" Long Hengxu's angry voice rang out from inside the gates.

The burly bald man at the head of the group spoke coldly. "My younger brother, Guang Long, was seriously injured by your students."

Long Hengxu's pupils suddenly contracted. The soul power radiating from the man was immensely strong, far beyond that of an ordinary person. He asked cautiously, "Guang Biao? Are you Guang Biao, captain of Eastsea City's mecha brigade?"

"Right now, I'm no captain." Guang Biao's voice was icy as his gaze swept over those inside the gates. "I'm just an older brother seeking justice for his younger brother. Hand over the three students who beat him."

Long Hengxu softened his tone, trying to negotiate. "Captain Guang, could there be some misunderstanding? Our academy will naturally investigate the whole affair."

"A misunderstanding?" Guang Biao sneered and cut him off. "My brother was beaten so badly he can't get out of bed, and you call that a misunderstanding? I have no patience for going in circles. Either hand them over obediently, or I'll go in and take them myself."

Long Hengxu felt as though his head had swollen to twice its size. He knew Guang Biao all too well. The man commanded a mecha brigade, and the two hundred-plus burly men before him were all mecha masters. Their individual soul master ranks might not be exceptional, but once they piloted their mechas, their combat strength far surpassed that of ordinary soul masters. Guang Biao came from a humble background and had lost both parents as a child. Through extraordinary talent, sheer ruthlessness, and grueling cultivation, he had firmly secured his position as brigade captain at thirty-five. He was a genuine six-ring Soul Emperor, and his mastery of mechas had also reached the emperor level. In all of Eastsea Academy, no matter how Long Hengxu counted, Wu Changkong was the only person whose soul power cultivation had reached the Soul Emperor realm.

Just as the situation reached a stalemate, a cool voice drifted from inside the academy, carrying a bone-deep chill. "You're the ones who want to take my students away?"

Everyone's vision blurred for an instant, and a white-clad figure appeared at the very front of the gates. He wore a plain white robe of an ancient style, his lake-blue hair cascading down like a waterfall. His dark green eyes were clear yet icy, and the air around him seemed to drop several degrees with his arrival.

"Who are you?" Guang Biao's gaze darkened.

"The three people you're looking for are my students." Wu Changkong's voice was level, yet carried an unquestionable authority. "Beat me, and you can take them. If you can't, get lost."

"Interesting. It's been far too long since anyone dared speak to me like that." Guang Biao laughed in his fury. Powerful soul energy abruptly erupted from him as six soul rings rose from beneath his feet in succession: yellow, yellow, purple, purple, purple, purple. The aura of a six-ring Soul Emperor spread without restraint. At the same time, iron-gray scales appeared on his forehead, spreading down his neck and swiftly covering his entire body in heavy armor-his Ironclad Dragon martial soul had possessed him. Three soul spirits appeared in halos of light beside him and over his shoulders, two yellow and one purple: two identical hundred-year lizard soul spirits and a thousand-year giant python soul spirit. The three soul spirits shone in concert with his soul rings, pressing their savage aura straight toward Wu Changkong.

Yet in the very next second, everyone shuddered, as though they had plunged from warm spring into deepest winter.

Wu Changkong remained motionless, his white clothes brighter than snow. A pale blue longsword slowly formed in his right palm. Its body was clear as autumn waters, its edge cold as moonlight. It was his martial soul-the Heavenly Frost Sword.

Soul rings emerged one after another beneath his feet: yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black. The six rings hovered silently, the two deep black rings so striking that they seemed to sting the eyes.

"Ten Thousand Year Soul Rings?!" Guang Biao's pupils contracted sharply, and he cried out in shock. In an age when soul beasts were on the brink of extinction, Ten Thousand Year Soul Rings had long since become the stuff of legend. Even for the Spirit Pagoda, cultivating a ten-thousand-year soul spirit was as difficult as ascending to heaven. He had never imagined that an ordinary teacher at Eastsea Academy would possess Ten Thousand Year Soul Rings.

Wu Changkong did not even look at him. He merely lowered his gaze to the longsword in his hand, his eyes revealing complicated emotions. Old friend, today you should taste blood again.

Guang Biao threw back his head and roared. More than two hundred men had followed him here to block the gates. If he retreated like this, how could he ever hold his head high in Eastsea City again? His first soul ring suddenly lit up, and the scales covering his body burst with an iron-gray gleam as he activated his first soul skill: Ironclad Dragon Body. He stamped his left foot hard against the ground and launched himself like a cannonball, his heavy fist wrapped in a fierce wind as it smashed straight toward Wu Changkong's face.

Wu Changkong stood still until the wind from the punch struck his face. Only then did he move. His six soul rings flashed faintly, his wrist lifted slightly, and the Heavenly Frost Sword flicked upward at an angle.

Clang-

The clear ring was followed by a series of sharp cracks as scales shattered. Several scales on Guang Biao's fist were instantly torn away by the sword energy, and his massive body staggered back several paces before he regained his footing. He felt a bone-piercingly cold strand of sword energy burrow through his fist into his meridians, freezing even the circulation of his soul power until it grew sluggish.

A single sword stroke had forced a six-ring Soul Emperor back.

Shocked and furious, Guang Biao willed the purple thousand-year giant python soul spirit beside him to swell abruptly. It opened its blood-red maw and lunged to devour Wu Changkong.

At that moment, a deep shout exploded from the sky. "Stop!"

Eight soul rings descended from a figure among the clouds: black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black. The oppressive power of an eight-ring Soul Douluo crashed down like a mountain. The newcomer wore a gray cloth robe and had the face of a middle-aged man. An antique-style, bright silver badge was pinned to the right side of his chest, engraved with a hammer and eight stars. It was Mu Chen, president of the East Sea Blacksmith Association and an Eight-Star Saint Craftsman.

The vast pressure fell entirely upon Guang Biao. In an instant, his legs began trembling, and he dropped to one knee with a thud, unable to move at all.

"President Mu Chen?" Guang Biao struggled to raise his head, his face filled with disbelief.

Mu Chen swept him with an icy gaze. "What, you want to lay hands on my disciple?"

"Disciple?"

An uproar swept through the crowd. One of those three first-year students was actually Mu Chen's disciple? Who in Eastsea City did not know that Mu Chen was its only Eight-Star Saint Craftsman? His standing was so exalted that even the city lord had to treat him with deference.

Guang Biao clenched his teeth and argued, "Even your disciple can't seriously injure my brother for no reason!"

"For no reason?" Mu Chen's voice grew colder still. "As far as I know, your brother has been throwing his weight around the streets under your name, extorting protection money. Those who refuse to pay are beaten and abused at best, or have their stalls smashed at worst. His victims are countless. Whenever someone steps in to punish him, he invokes your name to intimidate them. So, a mere mecha brigade captain has raised a brother who bullies merchants and tyrannizes the marketplace?"

"What?!"

Guang Biao's mind rang with a buzz. When he arrived, he had only seen his brother lying on a stretcher, covered in bandages. Anger had clouded his judgment, and he had never asked how the incident had begun. Now that Mu Chen had exposed the truth, he instinctively looked toward Guang Long on the stretcher nearby. His throat bobbed several times, but for a long while, he could not speak.

"Guang Biao," Mu Chen said evenly, though his voice carried a weighty pressure, "I don't think you need to remain captain of that mecha brigade. Go home, reflect on yourself, and keep your family in line."

Had this been someone else's affair, he might not have intervened personally. But the one being surrounded and threatened was his own direct disciple, and there was absolutely no reason to yield. Blinded by rage, Guang Biao had even cast the Federation's laws aside, never imagining that he had kicked the hardest iron plate of all. Mu Chen's standing spoke for itself. Never mind a mere mecha brigade captain-even if Eastsea City's lord came in person, he would have to show him deference.

The figure in the air slowly descended, and Mu Chen walked straight to Tang Wulin.

"Wulin, are you all right?"

"Teacher, I'm fine." Tang Wulin bowed slightly. "I'm sorry, Teacher. Sorry for troubling you to come all this way."

"No need to stand on ceremony. You're my disciple. This is only right." Mu Chen nodded slightly, then turned to Wu Changkong, his tone becoming more cordial. "And thank you, Teacher Wu, for protecting my disciple."

Wu Changkong was also quietly sizing up this Eight-Star Saint Craftsman. He knew better than most just how much weight that title carried-even within Shrek Academy, only one person had reached such a realm. He truly had not expected this student in his class, whose innate soul power was merely level four, to have such a background. Then he recalled the talent Tang Wulin had shown in forging, and understanding dawned. A nine-year-old Level Three Blacksmith attracting an Eight-Star Saint Craftsman like Mu Chen to take him as a disciple did make sense.

Xie Xie's eyes shone brilliantly. An Eight-Star Saint Craftsman! Someone even his father had to treat with the utmost respect was actually his classmate's teacher!

Long Hengxu, standing nearby, was utterly stunned as well. He had long known that Mu Chen's daughter attended Eastsea Academy, but he had never imagined Tang Wulin would be this Saint Craftsman's direct disciple.

Mu Chen exchanged a few pleasantries with Long Hengxu, then told Tang Wulin to focus on his classes and not worry. After that, he rose into the air and vanished into the sky in an instant.

Guang Biao's face was ashen, and the arrogance he had arrived with had vanished completely. In silence, he ordered his men to lift his younger brother's stretcher, then led the two hundred-plus men he had brought away from Eastsea Academy's gates, slinking off in disgrace.

After this incident, Tang Wulin became a true celebrity at Eastsea Academy. Previously, his best-known label had been "the big eater." Now, however, the title spreading through every grade was "genius young blacksmith." No one knew exactly how high his blacksmith rank was, but everyone was certain of one thing: for the Eight-Star Saint Craftsman Mu Chen to make an exception and take him as a disciple, this child's talent for forging had to be extraordinary.