The air in the clearing was thick with the scent of ozone and iron. Tang San's body was a battlefield; the violet energy of the 2,000-year Man-Faced Demon Spider was a physical weight, pressing against his ribs until they groaned. Suddenly, with a sound like shattering glass, the air around him exploded.
Eight grotesque, obsidian-colored spider legs erupted from Tang San's back, each one nearly ten feet long and dripping with a shimmering, lethal toxin. He gasped, his eyes flying open—now a deep, haunting violet—before he collapsed onto the moss, the legs twitching reflexively.
"An External Spirit Bone..." Zhao Wuji whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and terror. "The boy actually did it. He survived a lethal absorption and gained a treasure even Titled Douluos kill for."
Before the group could even process Tang San's transformation, a familiar, joyful voice rang through the trees.
"Everyone! You're still here!"
Xiao Wu burst into the clearing, looking remarkably clean and entirely unharmed. She threw herself into Tang San's arms, weeping with relief. When the confused group asked how she escaped the Titan Giant Ape, she quickly spun her rehearsed lie.
"I don't know!" she cried, wiping her eyes. "There was this terrifying, earth-shaking roar—it sounded like a massive bull! The Giant Ape looked terrified, dropped me in the tall grass, and scrambled away toward the core. I just ran until I found you guys!"
Xiao Wu then proudly displayed her three spirit rings, including a brand new thousand-year purple ring she claimed to have "found" a beast for during her escape.
Zhao Wuji let out a ragged sigh of relief. "Xiao Wu is back. Tang San is alive. Oscar has his flight. We are leaving. Right now. Before a God decided to drop out of the sky and challenge us to a duel."
"Wait," Bai Ming's voice cut through the haste.
The silver-robed aristocrat was standing by the remains of the spider, looking at the exhausted Ma Hongjun. The chubby boy was the only one left without a new ring, looking a bit dejected amidst his teammates' massive power-ups.
"Vice Dean, our work is not finished," Bai Ming stated, his pitch-black eyes shifting toward the northern canopy. "I promised Ma Hongjun a ring that would match his purified flames. We are not leaving this forest until the Phoenix truly takes flight."
"Ming, I'm at my limit," Zhao Wuji groaned, clutching his bruised chest. "We can't hunt anymore."
"You won't have to," Bai Ming replied, his tone chillingly confident. "The beast I have located has already been cornered by the pressure I released earlier. It is waiting for us."
Bai Ming turned and began walking into a dense thicket of red-leafed trees. Reluctantly, the battered group followed. After only ten minutes of walking, the temperature began to rise sharply.
They emerged into a scorched clearing where a Blaze-Crested Solar Hawk—a 1,400-year-old avian beast—was huddled against a rock, paralyzed by the residual King Beast aura Bai Ming had been subtly leaking all day. It was a magnificent creature, its feathers glowing like dying embers.
"Hongjun," Bai Ming gestured toward the bird. "This is your Ascension. Kill it."
Ma Hongjun didn't hesitate. He summoned his Phoenix spirit, his purified crimson flames roaring to life. With a single, decisive strike, he ended the hawk. As he sat to absorb the ring, the clearing was bathed in a brilliant, fiery light.
An hour later, Ma Hongjun jumped to his feet. A vibrant purple ring joined his two yellow ones.
"Check this out!" Fatty yelled.
"Third Spirit Ability: Phoenix Ascension!"
Two massive wings made of pure, high-intensity crimson fire erupted from Ma Hongjun's back. With a powerful flap, he shot into the air, hovering thirty feet above the trees. The air around him shimmered with heat. He pointed his finger downward, and a Phoenix Fire Wire ten times thicker and hotter than usual scorched a nearby boulder into molten slag.
"I can fly!" Hongjun laughed hysterically, soaring in circles. "I'm a real Phoenix now!"
Bai Ming looked up at the flying boy, a small, satisfied smirk touching his lips. He had equipped his team with flight, poison, and luxury. The "Monsters" of Shrek were finally starting to look like a real threat.
"Alright, enough showboating!" Zhao Wuji called out, though he couldn't hide his grin. "Pack it up! We've got a long walk back to the academy, and I'm buying the first round of ale once we hit Suotuo City!"
As the Shrek Seven Devils (and their mysterious benefactor) began the long march out of the Star Dou Great Forest, Bai Ming took one last look back at the dark, ancient trees.
Until next time, brothers, he thought, his tail twitching beneath his robes. The next time I return, the world will know the name of the King Beast.
The heavy wooden gates of Shrek Academy groaned open as the battered group finally collapsed into the central plaza. The journey back from the Star Dou Great Forest had been an absolute nightmare of physical exhaustion. Dai Mubai was practically leaning on Oscar, his legs trembling from the lingering strain of his fractured ribs. Tang San's face was pale, his spiritual energy severely drained from suppressing the volatile remnants of the Man-Faced Demon Spider.
The only exceptions to the exhaustion were Ma Hongjun, who was still buzzing with leftover adrenaline, occasionally letting sparks of crimson fire leak from his fingers as he muttered about his new wings, and Bai Ming.
The silver-robed aristocrat stepped into the plaza looking entirely immaculate. Not a single spec of borderland dust clung to his silk attire, his posture as flawlessly upright as the day they left.
Waiting for them in the center of the pristine, newly renovated plaza stood Headmaster Flender. But he wasn't alone. Standing right beside him was a rigid, middle-aged man dressed in a plain, stiff black robe. He had a short, neatly trimmed beard, deeply hollowed cheeks, and a pair of dark, intensely analytical eyes that seemed to dissect everything they looked at.
"Teacher!" Tang San gasped, his fatigue momentarily forgotten as he stumbled forward, bowing deeply to the newcomer.
Yu Xiaogang—the widely renowned "Grandmaster"—offered his prize disciple a rare, subtle nod of approval. "You have returned, San. And I see you have broken through. Good."
Grandmaster then turned his sharp gaze toward the rest of the students. He had spent the last several days preparing a meticulous, highly disciplined speech. He had planned to lecture these children on the virtues of enduring poverty, explaining how a lack of resources would forge their mental fortitude and force them to rely purely on their own grit to become monsters.
But as Grandmaster's eyes swept past the students and took in his surroundings, his analytical expression completely fractured.
He stared at the smooth, polished ironwood training yard. He saw the reinforced striking dummies capable of taking thousand-year spirit hits. He looked at the heavy, glistening profound iron gravity bracers neatly stacked in the corner, and the warm, expensive crystal chandeliers glowing behind the pristine glass windows of the dormitories.
This wasn't the run-down, impoverished village Flender had described in his letters. This looked like a high-end, elite training retreat for imperial royalty.
Grandmaster's face darkened, a flash of rigid, theoretical dogmatism clouding his eyes. He cleared his throat, his voice ringing with a stiff, unyielding coldness.
"I came here expecting to train monsters who understand the harshness of the world," Grandmaster began, his tone dripping with immediate disapproval. "But it seems you have allowed yourselves to be coddled. Excess luxury rots the mind. It weakens the spirit. When a Spirit Master is surrounded by such unnecessary opulence, their hunger for power dies. This environment will not forge you into monsters—it will merely hinder your growth and make you soft."
The Shrek students, who had literally just risked their lives fighting 100,000-year beasts and lethal spiders, flinched at the harsh words. Tang San nodded in silent agreement with his teacher's philosophy, believing that hardship was the only true path to mastery.
A soft, sharp chuckle cut through the rigid silence.
Bai Ming slowly stepped forward, his pitch-black eyes fixed on the stiff scholar. The aristocratic mask remained perfectly in place, but the look in his eyes was one of pure, unadulterated amusement. He had read the grand theories of Yu Xiaogang in the texts; he knew all about the man's "Ten Core Competencies"—a system built entirely on stealing knowledge from the Spirit Hall libraries and repackaging it as his own while masking his own pathetic Rank 29 bottleneck behind a facade of superior intellect.
Bai Ming completely ignored Grandmaster, turning his head slightly to look directly at the Headmaster.
"Headmaster Flender," Bai Ming's metallic voice carried effortlessly across the plaza, chillingly calm. "Tell me. Do you believe that my financial investments, my premium training equipment, and the livable environment I have provided are actively hindering your academy?"
Flender broke into a cold sweat. He looked at the pristine buildings, thought about the industrial-grade kitchen, the continuous-flow hot water, and the fact that Bai Ming's wealth had single-handedly saved him from bankruptcy.
"No! Absolutely not!" Flender answered instantly, his voice far too loud as he hurriedly waved his hands. He turned to his old friend, his tone defensive. "Xiaogang, you don't understand! With this new equipment, their physical conditioning can be accelerated tenfold! The profound iron gravity gear allows for precise weight adjustment, and the new dietary supplies mean they can recover from brutal training overnight instead of wasting days healing! This isn't rotting them—it makes my training faster and significantly more efficient!"
Grandmaster's jaw tightened. His rigid pride was deeply stung by Flender's immediate pushback, especially in front of the students. He opened his mouth to spout another theoretical doctrine about mental discipline, but he found himself momentarily choked by the sheer, quiet intensity of Bai Ming's gaze.
Bai Ming stood firmly on the cobblestones, a dark, calculating smirk playing on his lips as he watched the brief argument.
Look at you, Grandmaster, Mame thought internally, his Void Instinct casually mapping the fragile, fractured meridians of the Rank 29 scholar. A hypocrite who hides his own genetic failures behind a wall of arrogant rules, lecturing children on 'luxury' while you rely on Flender's charity. Run your mouth while you still can. I am going to tear down your pathetic little facade piece by piece, theater by theater, until you have absolutely nowhere left to hide.
"If the curriculum is settled," Bai Ming smoothly interrupted, adjusting his silver cuffs with a flawless flick of his wrist, "I believe the 'coddled' students require rest. We have a long day tomorrow, do we not, Grandmaster?"
Yu Xiaogang stared at the arrogant noble boy, his fists clenching tightly beneath his black robes. He could already tell that this eighth student was going to be an absolute cancer to his authority.
"Tomorrow morning. Dawn," Grandmaster spat coldly, turning his back on the group. "Do not be late."
Later that evening, the lanterns inside the Headmaster's office flickered with a dim, yellow glow. The room, unlike the rest of the academy, had kept most of its original rustic charm, filled with cluttered shelves of old accounting ledgers and mismatched furniture.
Flender sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples, while Zhao Wuji leaned heavily against the wooden wall, a jar of wine in his hand. Standing near the window, his back rigid and his hands tightly clasped behind his black robe, was Yu Xiaogang. The silence in the room was suffocating.
"Flender," Grandmaster broke the silence, his voice cold and cutting. He turned around, his analytical eyes flashing with deep irritation. "If I am to take over the curriculum of this academy, I need a guarantee. I need you to promise that you will not interfere with my training methods. More importantly, I must have the final say. You cannot contradict me in front of the students like you did today in the plaza."
Zhao Wuji let out a rough, dismissive snort, taking a heavy swig from his jar. "Hold on a minute, Xiaogang. Last time I checked, Flender is the Dean here. He is the one who built this academy from the ground up, endured twenty years of poverty, and kept the doors open—not you. Flender didn't say anything wrong today. The equipment Young Master Bai brought in is a godsend, and you completely dismissed it."
Grandmaster's face turned visibly rigid, his eyes narrowing at the Vice Dean. "Wuji, you are a combat specialist, but you understand nothing of theoretical development. True monsters are forged through adversity, not by being pampered with silk sheets and crystal stoves. If the students think they can rely on wealth, their psychological edge will fracture."
"Wuji, drop it," Flender sighed deeply, raising a hand to cut off the bickering. He looked up at his old friend, his expression turning incredibly serious, the usual playful greed completely vanishing from his face. "Xiaogang... I can grant you absolute authority over the curriculum. I will not question your methods, and I will make sure the other teachers fall in line. But only for the other seven students."
Grandmaster frowned, his brow furrowing deeply. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you can train Tang San, Dai Mubai, and the rest however you see fit," Flender stated flawlessly, leaning forward. "But Bai Ming is strictly off-limits. He possesses total, absolute autonomy over his own training, his schedule, and his methods. You are not to command him, and you are not to restrict him."
"This is completely unacceptable!" Grandmaster snapped, slamming his fist onto the wooden table. His pride as a grand theorist was utterly insulted. "A classroom cannot have two masters, Flender! If I allow one student to walk around acting as an exception, it will completely destroy the discipline of the group! How am I supposed to teach Tang San and the others to endure hardship when they watch that arrogant noble boy sipping tea in a luxury lounge? He must follow the rules, or he does not belong under my tutelage!"
Zhao Wuji set his wine jar down with a heavy thud, stepping into the light. "Well, if you can't handle a single student having a bit of independence, maybe you're the one who doesn't belong here. If it bothers you that much, you can always leave."
"Wuji!" Flender warned sharply.
But Grandmaster was already flushed with righteous anger. His unyielding dogmatism and fragile ego couldn't handle the disrespect. He stood up straight, puffing out his chest as he glared at the two men.
"Fine! If this is how Shrek Academy treats the foundation of spiritual theory, then I will leave right now!" Grandmaster spat, his voice trembling with bitter pride. "And I will not leave alone. I will take Tang San and Xiao Wu with me. Any advanced academy on this continent—from the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy to the top clans—would be absolutely ecstatic to accept a dual-martial-soul genius under my guidance! Let us see how long your sponsored resort lasts without true monsters!"
The threat hung heavily in the air. Grandmaster knew exactly how much Tang San meant to Flender's dream of producing an apex graduate. He was using his prize disciple as the ultimate bargaining chip to force Flender to bow to his authority.
Flender let out a long, exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked toward the window, catching a brief glimpse of the glowing, luxurious dormitories across the plaza—the pristine facilities that Bai Ming had single-handedly provided, backed by a terrifying, hidden power that even a Titled Douluo couldn't easily suppress.
Flender looked back at Yu Xiaogang. The old friendship was there, but reality was an unyielding wall.
"Xiaogang... stop throwing a tantrum," Flender said quietly, his voice carrying the immovable weight of a Headmaster. "You can do as you please with the rest of the school. I will support your decisions, and I will ensure the students respect your rank as their Grandmaster. But I am telling you right now, for the final time: Bai Ming is the only one you cannot tell what to do. His status is completely separate from the rest."
Flender's eyes sharpened behind his square glasses, locking onto his old friend with absolute finality.
"That is my final decision, Xiaogang. And it is non-negotiable. Now, go prepare your lesson for tomorrow dawn."
Grandmaster stared at Flender, his breath catching in his throat. He realized, with a sudden chill of realization, that his threat had failed. Flender wasn't backing down. Gritting his teeth tightly beneath his short beard, Grandmaster violently swept his black robes around him, turning on his heel and storming out of the office, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him.
Zhao Wuji picked up his wine jar again, a broad, mocking grin spreading across his rugged face. "Man... I can't wait to see the look on his face tomorrow when he tries to make them run laps and Bai Ming decides to take a nap."
Flender didn't laugh. He simply stared at the closed door, wondering how long this fragile peace would last before the arrogant King Beast completely shattered the Grandmaster's carefully constructed world.