Entering the Tournament

There are seven days left until the Continent-wide Advanced Soul Master Academy Elite Tournament.

As evening fell, a beam of light shot into the sky from Dai Mubai's room. White Soul Power solidified, and a faint tiger's roar echoed from within the beam. Everyone rushed out of their respective rooms, staring at the tightly closed door.

The door opened. Dai Mubai walked out, a smile on his face.

"Boss Dai, you've broken through?" Ma Hongjun's eyes widened.

"Not bad." Dai Mubai nodded. His gaze swept over everyone, lingering for a moment on Tang San, Xiao Wu, and Wang Xingyu, before finally settling on Zhu Zhuqing. "Without strength, where does the freedom to control one's own life come from?"

He turned his gaze back to his companions, "Actually, I also thought we wouldn't make it. Thanks to Little San's Immortal Herb, and thank you all."

Tang San shook his head. "The Immortal Herb is useful, but your own belief is even more important."

Oscar laughed from the side, "Boss Dai, don't be so polite with us, don't stand on ceremony."

A figure descended from the sky, glasses reflecting the moonlight; before the figure even landed, the voice arrived first. "Level 50?"

Dai Mubai nodded.

Flender threw his head back and laughed loudly, so loudly that it startled the crow on the crooked tree away again. He patted Dai Mubai on the shoulder, his mouth almost reaching his ears, and told him to "stay steady," before turning and flying away again. Even after flying far away, his intermittent laughter could still be heard in mid-air.

Xiao Wu looked in the direction Flender had disappeared. "Dean, you're way too excited!"

Ning Rongrong laughed and said, "A seventeen-year-old Soul King, and still my student, how could I not be excited?"

Early the next morning, Flender, Zhao Wuji, Liu Erlong, and Grandmaster all set out, taking Dai Mubai to the Soul Hunting Forest.

Dai Mubai didn't even need to lift a finger; the four of them joined forces and easily defeated a 20,000-year-old power-type Soul Beast, allowing him to deliver the final blow.

Dai Mubai sat cross-legged to absorb the energy. The White Tiger Martial Soul was itself a top-tier Beast Martial Soul, and its family's inheritance and Soul Skill system had long been fixed.

Dai Mubai opened his eyes, his Fifth Soul Ring firmly attached to his body. He sensed the surge of power within him and said in a deep voice, "White Tiger Demon God Transformation."

Back at the academy, Grandmaster and Flender gathered the eight participants in the conference room and unfurled a scroll of tournament rules. Grandmaster explained each rule in detail, and then Flender tapped the table. "The prize for this champion is three Soul Bone provided by the Spirit Hall. One of them is 60,000 years old."

Everyone gasped in unison. Oscar's almond-shaped eyes widened. "The Spirit Hall is so generous?"

"Generous?" Flender sneered. "It's just a deceptive tactic. The Spirit Hall has almost always won the championship these past few years. The only time they lost was because the prize was a fiefdom they didn't want. Winning or losing depends entirely on whether they want to put on a show; it's not a real mishap."

Ma Hongjun couldn't help but complain, "Winning whenever they want, losing whenever they want, the Spirit Hall is really something else."

Ning Rongrong frowned. "They've brought out Ten Thousand Year Soul Bone as the prize again; it seems they're determined to get it."

Oscar chuckled and shrugged. "What a pity."

The Grandmaster and Flender laughed too. "They thought victory was assured, but little did they know their opponents this time were a truly monster team. This time, we're taking the championship outright."

The Grandmaster changed the subject, saying, "Although the team is very strong this time, we can't relax our tactical arrangements. We need to conceal our strength as much as possible in the early stages. Erlong has selected three more students from the academy as substitutes. You should get to know them."

The door opened, and three people walked in.

Huang Yuan, 20 years old, level 35, Power Attack System, Martial Soul: Lone Wolf. Jing Ling, 22 years old, level 35, Agility Attack System, Martial Soul Skeleton: Skeleton. Tai Long, scratching his head, walked at the back, coughed, and introduced himself, "Tai Long, level 38, Power Attack System, Battle Soul Ancestor, Martial Soul: Great Strength Gorilla."

Wang Xingyu glanced around, silently thinking to himself—there was another Support System girl in the original story, but she hasn't appeared yet. Maybe it's his fault. Oh well, three it is.

After the Grandmaster and the others recognized each other, they announced the disbandment, telling them to spend the next few days building rapport before setting off in five days.

Wang Xingyu felt like he had forgotten something, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Oh well, it probably wasn't anything serious.

That evening, Flender called the eight players to his office, saying he needed to take their measurements to make team uniforms. Wang Xingyu immediately realized what was going on. Yes, that green-based, yellow-trimmed uniform—so ugly it was infuriating.

He grabbed Flender's arm. "Dean, let's discuss the team uniform issue properly."

Flender adjusted his glasses. "What are you discussing?"

"Don't make it too ugly." Wang Xingyu paused, then changed the subject, "Also, I have a business deal I'd like to give you."

Flender narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "What kind of business?"

Wang Xingyu briefly recounted the ins and outs of his soap business, from its beginnings in Nuoding City to its expansion into several surrounding towns. Then, he unfolded his fan. "I've only expanded into such a small area; there's still a huge market waiting to be tapped."

"Does it make money?" Flender asked quite bluntly.

"It's not just about making money," Wang Xingyu said seriously, "It also brings convenience to ordinary people. Just think, making affordable and effective soap available to people all over the mainland—what a great deed that is! Making money is just a side benefit."

Flender happily took the formula and distribution list, flipped through a couple of pages, and couldn't suppress the smile on his face.

Wang Xingyu silently pondered to himself—since cultivation and competitions take up all his time now, he can't afford to deal with this business anymore, so he might as well let the dean have it. Flender may be stingy, but he's still reliable when it comes to getting things done.

And I really don't want to wear that green team uniform.

Dai Mubai, Level 51; Tang San Xiao Wu, Oscar, Level 47; Ning Rongrong, Zhu Zhuqing, Level 46; Ma Hongjun, Level 45; Wang Xingyu, Level 42.

Five days later, the group set off wearing their new team uniforms.

The team uniforms were still green, but the style was much neater, with a fitted waist and narrow sleeves, and dark trim on the collar and cuffs, making everyone look more energetic. There were no advertisements, only the Shrek emblem—a small green monster hat—embroidered on the left chest.

Ma Hongjun maintained his Martial Soul Possession state throughout, with an oval face and a slender figure, walking at the front of the group, waving to the crowd from time to time. The surrounding audience actually cooperated, cheering. Ma Hongjun raised his chin even higher.

The teachers followed behind the group. Flender looked at Ma Hongjun's peacock-like display of power, adjusted his glasses, and unusually refrained from making fun of him.

As the group reached the stairwell and prepared to enter the Great Soul Arena, they encountered another team: Canghui Academy.

A middle-aged man stood atop the steps, looking down at the Shrek Devils. His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for everyone present to hear. "How annoying, why do I always run into you bunch of little bastards? It's ruining my mood."

Ma Hongjun's Martial Soul Possession state had just ended, and his figure visibly returned to its round and chubby form. He looked up and chuckled, "Hey, isn't this the old turtle that got swatted away before?"

Oscar, standing beside him, added earnestly, "He can fly, right? Then you could call him a bastard—because he can roll."

The shoulders of several trainees behind him trembled in unison.

"You bunch of scum!" Ye Zhiqiu's face flushed red, veins bulging on his forehead. "If you say my Black Tortoise is a tortoise again, believe me, I'll tear your mouths apart!"

A hand reached out from the side and firmly pressed down on Ye Zhiqiu's shoulder.