Her voice was lower than before. There was no audible anger in it, but that rigid chill remained:
"A twelve-year-old Soul King. Two purple, three black."
"Impressive. Truly impressive."
She bit down hard on the word "impressive," as though chewing on a bone she could never break down.
Her gaze moved from the Soul Rings at Zhang Lan's feet to his face and lingered for two breaths. Then the corner of her mouth twitched. It was hardly a smile, more the stiffness of someone pushed to her limit and forced to yield half a step.
"Quite the talent, and quite the temper."
Zhou Yi turned and walked back behind the lectern. Bracing both hands over the wreckage she had smashed herself, she looked down at the entire class.
"But talent is talent, and rules are rules. Shrek Academy doesn't just teach cultivation. It also teaches you how to conduct yourself."
"If you dare defy your homeroom teacher in front of the whole class today, tomorrow you'll dare cheat in an assessment, and the day after that you'll dare attack an examiner."
Zhang Lan watched her without speaking.
Zhou Yi did not wait for his reply before changing tack:
"Since you're so capable, let's not waste any more time in the classroom."
"The Soul Fighting Arena. We're going there now. I'll personally assess your combat ability."
A chorus of very quiet gasps rose in the classroom.
Xiao Xiao jerked her head up, her mouth forming a circle.
Nan Qiuqiu raised an eyebrow, but quickly regained her composure.
Wang Dong turned toward Zhang Lan, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes.
Zhou Yi's tone allowed no argument:
"This isn't a spar. It's an assessment."
"Every incoming student has to pass this hurdle. You're no exception."
"Your soul power level is high, and your soul ring configuration is good. Perfect. Let me see whether your actual combat skills measure up to those five Soul Rings of yours."
At this point, everyone could hear what she really meant.
Assessing new students' combat abilities was indeed a Shrek tradition, but no homeroom teacher had ever personally stepped into the arena to fight a new student.
Besides, Zhou Yi was a full-fledged Six-Ring Soul Emperor. Using her Red Dragon martial soul against a twelve-year-old Soul King was inherently unfair.
Yet every word she spoke claimed the high ground. If a homeroom teacher wanted to assess a student, who would dare say no?
"Let's go."
Zhou Yi straightened and swept her gaze over the class.
"Everyone, to the Soul Fighting Arena. The rest of you are coming too. See what real combat looks like."
Zhang Lan did not refuse.
He withdrew the Star of Eden into his body.
He glanced at Nan Qiuqiu. She gave a slight nod, rose, and followed him.
Xiao Xiao hesitated for a moment, then followed as well.
Wang Dong moved fastest. Zhang Lan had barely taken his first step when he sprang from his seat, stuffed his notebook into his bag, and fell in half a step behind him.
Zhou Yi led the way, her strides swift and steady, her crimson hair swinging behind her.
Backlit by the morning sunlight at the classroom door, she cast a long shadow.
The entire class followed. Some whispered to one another, some walked briskly with their heads lowered, and some stole a glance at Zhang Lan before hurriedly looking away.
They left the teaching building and followed the stone-paved path toward the Soul Fighting Arena.
Students from other classes who encountered the procession asked curious questions, only to receive the answer, "Teacher Zhou is going to fight a new student in the Soul Fighting Arena."
As though it had sprouted legs, the news spread through the entire outer courtyard within minutes.
Zhang Lan walked in the middle of the group, his expression calm.
He could sense a taut force in Zhou Yi's retreating figure ahead of him, different from the anger she had shown in the classroom.
It was heavier, colder, as though she had packed her fury into her bones, waiting to pour it all out at once in the Soul Fighting Arena.
He withdrew his gaze and continued forward with the group.
The news traveled faster than Zhang Lan had expected.
By the time they reached the entrance to the Soul Fighting Arena, spectators were already seated in the stands.
A group of students in yellow uniforms occupied most of the best row on the eastern side.
At their head was a teacher in his twenties, with ear-length hair and strong, handsome features. He leaned against the railing with his legs crossed, slowly sipping from a cup of tea.
When he saw Zhou Yi enter with the first-year Class One, he set down his cup. His lips curved only slightly, but he could not hide the amusement in his eyes.
Mu Jin.
His Class Nine had no lessons scheduled that day. He had brought them here specifically for this.
While Zhou Yi and Zhang Lan were confronting each other in the classroom, a Class Nine student had happened to be delivering homework to the office.
The student heard the commotion in the corridor and ran back to report it. Without another word, Mu Jin picked out a few of his more lively students and headed for the Soul Fighting Arena.
He and Zhou Yi had been competing in the outer courtyard for nearly eight years. From teaching evaluations to inner courtyard admission rates, they fought over everything.
Zhou Yi's classes had high elimination rates but high inner courtyard admission rates. His had low elimination rates but few outstanding students. Neither could get the upper hand over the other, and they had spent all these years competing both openly and in secret.
Today, a new student had defied Zhou Yi in public, and she was even going to enter the Soul Fighting Arena herself. There was no way he would miss a spectacle like this.
"Teacher Zhou."
Mu Jin greeted her from a distance. His voice was not loud, but it carried clearly through the spacious Soul Fighting Arena.
"I hear you're personally assessing a new student?"
"Now that's a rarity. I brought a few students to observe. You don't mind, do you?"
Zhou Yi's steps paused. She turned her head to glance at Mu Jin, then walked straight toward the center of the arena without answering.
Mu Jin did not take offense. He leaned back against the railing, picked up his teacup, and resumed sipping.
The students beside him exchanged glances and wisely kept quiet.
In the western stands, Ning Tian, Wu Feng, and Dai Huabin had arrived even earlier than Mu Jin.
Ning Tian had heard the news from a classmate. She had been practicing soul power control at the training grounds, but the moment she heard Zhang Lan's name, she stopped what she was doing.
She barely knew Zhang Lan, but word of the crystal ball shattering during registration yesterday had spread throughout the freshman building. He had left an impression on her.
She found a seat in the third row of the stands, opened the notebook she carried with her, and held a pen between her fingers, looking ready to take notes.
Wu Feng sat beside her with her arms folded, her short silver-gray hair gleaming coldly in the morning light.
She had not wanted to come. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing worth watching when a Soul Emperor fought a Soul King. The outcome was already decided.
But when Ning Tian said, "That Soul King's soul ring configuration is two purple and three black," she fell silent for two breaths, then came along after all.
Now she leaned against the back of her seat, her gaze passing over the protective barrier around the arena to settle on the figure holding a cane at its center. No emotion showed in her eyes.
Dai Huabin stood one row behind them, his back against the railing, turning a silver coin in his hand. It flipped back and forth between his fingers with faint clicks.
He came from the White Tiger Duke's Mansion and had seen plenty of geniuses since childhood.
A twelve-year-old Soul King was outrageous, but not enough to make him lose his composure.
At least, not openly.
Yet when Zhang Lan had released his Soul Rings in the classroom earlier, Dai Huabin had sensed that aura from half a building away.
It was unbelievably heavy, completely out of proportion to his soul power level.
He wanted to see just how much substance this person really had.
More people gradually poured into the back rows and aisles of the stands.
Students in purple uniforms occupied almost half the eastern stands. Several fourth-year students leaned over the railing to look down, murmuring among themselves as they watched.
Farther away, a few sixth-year students in black uniforms mingled behind the crowd. They stood at a distance with their arms folded, making no move to approach.
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