Year-End Academy Tournament

Three months after he joined the team, the end of the year arrived in the blink of an eye.

When the first light snow fell on Heaven Dou City, the Imperial Fighting Team doubled its training load. Tang Yin's Soul Power climbed from rank twenty-one all the way to rank twenty-six. The hundred-thousand-year-old right leg bone fed life energy back into his body day and night, and with the hour he spent practicing each day alongside Ye Lingling as a pair of support-type soul masters, plus the Martial Soul Fusion they practiced in secret, his Soul Power condensed so quickly that even Qin Ming was astonished.

Three months ago, he had won in the rank-twenty group through control and clean execution. When he stepped onto the stage again three months later, even he could feel the difference. His vines were heavier and tougher, the embryonic form of his domain could flicker in his palm for three to five breaths before dispersing, and even the Blue Silver Emperor's presence had grown more substantial than when he joined the team.

The year-end academy tournament was still a singles competition, and he was still in the rank-twenty group.

Tang Yin signed up.

Word had been spreading around the academy that a genius had recently joined Heaven Dou Team One, but no one had seen him.

When eight-year-old Tang Yin stepped onto the stage, everyone began talking.

Only then did they realize he was Team One's genius.

In the first round, his opponent was a rank-twenty-two Power Attack System soul master, who came in swinging a hammer and brought it down in a crushing blow. Three months ago, Tang Yin would have had to circle around twice to dissipate the force. Now he only lifted a hand. Blue Silver vines shot straight out of the ground and wrapped around his opponent's ankles, knees, and wrists. Within three breaths, they pinned the man and his hammer in place.

His opponent struggled, but couldn't budge. A faint emerald glow even crept over the vines, suppressing his Soul Power until it stagnated.

"...Surrender?" Tang Yin asked.

His opponent looked at the emerald glow and swallowed. "I surrender."

Thunderous applause erupted from the stands. Three months ago, the spectators had been pleasantly surprised when he won; now, they were used to it.

In the second round, his opponent was a rank-twenty-six Control System soul master, the same rank as him. He also used grass, and as soon as the match began, he activated his Martial Soul, hoping to pit his vines against Tang Yin's. But the moment his Blue Silver Grass poked its head out, Tang Yin's vines had already pressed silently toward it. It wasn't an attack, but the crushing dominance of a bloodline: beneath the Blue Silver Emperor's presence, the clump of ordinary Blue Silver Grass shrank back in a flash, like frost under the sun, and even its owner's Soul Power wavered.

His opponent stared blankly at his own Martial Soul, then looked at Tang Yin and raised his hand.

The semifinals and finals were no different.

Three months ago, Tang Yin had needed a full ten moves to win. Now, without even releasing the vines from his second Soul Skill, he disarmed his opponents within three moves. With rank-twenty-six Soul Power bearing down on the rank-twenty group and the Blue Silver Emperor suppressing them through its superior quality, he won as cleanly as if he were harvesting vegetables.

By the time he defeated the rank-twenty-six seed in the final, no one in the stands was surprised anymore. Yu Tianheng sat by the railing with his legs crossed, betting with Shi Mo. "I bet Little Yin finishes it within three moves." "I bet two!" "Get lost."

Tang Yin walked off the stage, his vines hanging at his side.

Then he met the gaze from the VIP seats.

Xue Qinghe had come again.

The young man in green sat there, wrapped in a fox-fur coat he hadn't worn three months ago, as gentle and refined as ever. He watched Tang Yin walk off the stage, the teacup in his hand pausing for a moment in midair.

Three months. He remembered that the child had been rank twenty-one three months ago; now, three months later, he was rank twenty-six. He had seen it perfectly clearly from the stands just now-the child had won the match as if taking a leisurely stroll.

Qian Renxue set down her teacup and gently tapped its rim with a fingertip.

Three months ago, she had sent people to investigate, and this was what they had found: Tang Hao's second son, withdrawn from Nuoding Academy, enrolled at Heaven Dou at age eight. The records were spotless, as clean as a sheet of paper. But how could a spotless eight-year-old child possibly rise five ranks in three months? How could he win in the rank-twenty group as easily as chopping melons and vegetables?

She watched the eight-year-old child walking off the stage, her gaze gradually deepening.

There was something about this child that she couldn't read.