Soon, a brilliant crimson streak slashed across the sky.
The divine-grade crimson mecha returned, landing steadily before them.
In its arms rested two mechas—one in each hand.
The left cradled a Black-Grade mecha—sharp, austere lines gleaming with dim metallic luster.
The right held a Purple-Grade mecha—streamlined, swirling with violet luminescence.
"This is…?"
Fang Yang's eyes flickered with surprise.
Mu Ye's lips curved in a faint smile: "A gift of welcome."
He pointed to the Black-Grade mecha: "Fang Yang—this is yours."
His gaze shifted to Tang Wulin: "Tang Wulin—this Purple-Grade for you."
Fang Yang bowed deeply: "Thank you, Sect Master."
"Thank you, Elder!" Tang Wulin added, voice trembling with joy.
Mu Ye waved dismissively: "No need for formality."
He handed them two items: "Mecha storage soul-guided devices and identity cards—keep them safe."
He explained: "The Federation strictly regulates mechas. Their destructive power is immense; loss of control risks catastrophe."
"It's already difficult for civilian mechas to obtain official transit permits. A permit for a single city is one thing, but a continent-wide transit permit is even harder to get."
"I've handled all the procedures for you."
"Understood," they chorused, accepting the items.
They activated the devices—two flashes of light—black and purple mechas dissolved into streams, sealed within.
At last—they had mechas of their own.
Zhen Hua chuckled beside them: "Mu Ye—you old fox… quite the gesture."
He knew: Mu Ye prepared the Purple-Grade mecha for Tang Wulin solely out of regard for him.
Mu Ye merely smiled: "It's nothing."
---
Ding!
Zhen Hua's soul-guided communicator rang.
After a brief exchange, he turned: "Your opponents have arrived."
"Yes, President," they replied, securing their devices.
"Mu Ye, want to join us?" Zhen Hua asked.
"No—I'll take my leave," Mu Ye declined.
"Until next time," Zhen Hua nodded.
"Farewell, Sect Master," Fang Yang bowed.
"Farewell, Elder," Tang Wulin added.
Mu Ye waved, stepping into his crimson cockpit.
"Little Red—let's go."
"As you command, Master," the mecha rumbled—a metallic hum.
Engines roared as the mecha ascended, vanishing as a crimson streak.
---
Zhen Hua led them to the Blacksmith Association's training arena.
Two men awaited. One of them had a refined face and wore a neat, fitted outfit. Upon seeing the group enter, he politely nodded and bowed.
The other had a rugged face and a burly build. He stood with his arms crossed, his gaze sharp, exuding a fierce aura.
"Who goes first?" Zhen Hua smiled.
"I will," Fang Yang stepped forward.
Wen Zihao approached: "Wen Zihao—Martial Soul: Fire Lark, Level 68 Assault Battle Soul Emperor. Please guide me."
Curiosity flickered in his eyes: Why did the President warn us about this youth?
"Fang Yang—Martial Soul: Flame, Level 62. Please instruct me, Senior Wen," Fang Yang returned the salute.
"Begin!" Zhen Hua announced, eyes gleaming.
He too wished to witness the strength Mu Ye favored.
"Fire Lark—Martial Soul Integration!"
Wen Zihao's body erupted in crimson flames—a Fire Lark phantom coalescing.
Two Yellow, Three Purple, One Black rings blazed—One-Word Battle Armor encasing him.
"Flame? Then excuse me," Fang Yang murmured.
Wen Zihao struck first—third ring flaring:
"Third Soul Skill: Blazing Feather Storm!"
Fiery feathers swirled into a vortex—hurtling toward Fang Yang!
Fang Yang stood unmoving.
Black Flame bloomed in his palm—runes swirling, chaos halos flickering.
"Devour."
The vortex collapsed into a black maw—swallowing the storm whole.
"What?!" Wen Zihao froze.
His Fire Lark Martial Soul trembled—an instinctive, primal fear!
"It's over."
Fang Yang's palm pushed—black flame coalescing into a giant hand, slamming Wen Zihao backward.
Wen Zihao rose, sighing wryly: "The youth are getting more and more impressive!"
Zhen Hua clapped his shoulder: "He's from Shrek Academy. Losing is natural."
"Shrek?! No wonder!" Wen Zihao bowed deeply to Fang Yang before departing.
---
Pang Zhen leaped onto the arena, booming:
"My turn! Pang Zhen—Martial Soul: Stone Armor Bear, Level 55 Assault Soul King! Boy—show me your skill!"
"Tang Wulin—Martial Soul: Blue Silver Grass, Level 48 Control Battle Soul King. Please instruct me, Senior," Tang Wulin vaulted up.
"Blue Silver Grass?! Interesting!" Pang Zhen laughed.
"Begin!"
Pang Zhen's second ring flared:
"Second Soul Skill: Rock Armor!"
Stone encased his body—he charged.
Tang Wulin's left hand rose—
The mutated Hao Tian Hammer materialized—pitch-black, dark crimson veins pulsing like blood.
"What…?!" Pang Zhen faltered.
Tang Wulin surged forward:
First strike—shattered Rock Armor!
Second strike—dispersed soul power!
Third strike—hammer halted three inches from Pang Zhen's face!
Cold sweat traced Pang Zhen's temple. One inch closer and it would be his death.
"I yield, Senior," Tang Wulin retracted the hammer, bowing.
Pang Zhen stood stunned, then shook his head with a bitter smile:
"Brat—you've won my respect!"
Zhen Hua watched, eyes brimming with pride.
---
A/N:
Devour—consumes soul power!
Void Devour—devours all!
Regarding mecha storage soul-guided devices: mentioned in canon but not elaborated. Creative liberty applied here!
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