The news of Tang San's victory was not a quiet ripple; it was a tidal wave that crashed through the small, tense world of the new Shrek Academy. By the time the weak afternoon sun began to cast long, weary shadows across the training field, every member of the team had heard.
Oscar was the first to get the details, his natural charm and gossipy nature allowing him to pry the story from one of the substitute members who had witnessed the spar. He found Ma Hongjun near the kitchens, attempting to sneak an early dinner.
"Fatty! You are not going to believe this!" Oscar exclaimed, his voice a low, excited hiss. He grabbed Ma Hongjun's arm, pulling him into a secluded corner.
"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?" Ma Hongjun grumbled, his eyes still fixed longingly on the kitchen door.
"Forget the food for a minute! It's about Xiao San!" Oscar's peach-blossom eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and a deep, profound awe. "He fought them! He fought Boss Mubai and that Tianheng guy at the same time!"
Ma Hongjun's beady eyes widened. "What? A two-on-one? The Grandmaster really set that up?"
"He did! And Xiao San… he won! He took them both down! They said it wasn't even a close fight!"
Ma Hongjun just stared, his jaw slack. He knew how strong Dai Mubai and Yu Tianheng were. He had been on the receiving end of their "friendly" spars more times than he could count. For Tang San to defeat them both, at the same time… it was a feat that bordered on the impossible.
The two weeks following Tang San's decisive victory were a period of intense, focused integration. The news of his triumph over the academy's two strongest power attackers had spread like wildfire, cementing his position as the undisputed core of the team. The other students, who had once seen him as a clever but ultimately fragile control type, now looked at him with a new, profound respect.
His days were a whirlwind of tactical discussions and grueling practice sessions. Yu Xiaogang was a man possessed, his mind a feverish storm of new strategies and possibilities. He would spend hours with Tang San, hunched over detailed diagrams of their opponents' formations, dissecting their weaknesses, and devising new, more ruthless ways to exploit them.
"Your Purple Silk Bind is a magnificent control ability, Xiao San," the Grandmaster would say, his voice a low, excited murmur as he tapped a diagram with his quill. "But its true power lies not in its binding, but in its poison. Against a team with a strong defensive spirit master, a direct binding will be useless. But if you can have the silk just graze their agility type, just for a second… the paralytic neurotoxin will do the rest. It will slow them down, disrupt their rhythm, and create the opening that Mubai needs to charge."
Tang San absorbed it all, his own mind a brilliant, beautiful machine that took his teacher's theories and refined them, adapted them, made them his own. He was no longer just a student; he was a general, preparing his army for war.
But it was not all work.
On a bright, sunny afternoon, a week after his return, he finally, truly, allowed himself to relax. He took Xiao Wu's hand, and together, they left the tense, competitive atmosphere of the academy and descended into the vibrant, chaotic heart of Heaven Dou City.
The moment they were alone, the dam of Xiao Wu's cheerful, bubbly energy broke. She was a whirlwind of chatter, a year's worth of stories, of gossip, of small, insignificant details that were, to him, the most important things in the world.
"And then," she said, her long scorpion braid bouncing with every excited step, "after you left, the Grandmaster got really, really strict. He had us training every single day, from sunrise to sunset. It was awful! We had to run with these huge, heavy baskets of rocks on our backs. And then, Teacher Zhao would use his gravity thingy on us! It was like trying to run through a swamp made of molasses!"
She shuddered dramatically. "But the worst part was the food! The Grandmaster had this special, horrible porridge made for us every single day. It tasted like… like wet cardboard! He said it was for our own good, that it would help our bodies recover. But I think he was just trying to torture us."
Tang San just chuckled, a low, warm sound. He squeezed her hand gently. "It sounds like you have all been working very hard."
"We have!" she said, her chest puffing out with a proud, defiant energy. "But it wasn't all bad. Sometimes, the Grandmaster would give us these… strange pills. They were a pretty, water-blue color. He never told us where he got them from, just that we had to take them. And when we did… it was like a warm, tingly feeling would spread through our whole bodies. And then, for the next few days, our cultivation would be so much faster! It was amazing!"
Tang San's own expression turned thoughtful. He remembered. Just before his father had taken him away, his teacher had given him a few of those same, mysterious pills. He had not thought much of it at the time. But now…
'So, Teacher had a steady supply,' he thought, his mind, a cold, analytical machine, already beginning to connect the dots. 'A supply that was enough for the entire team. Where did he get them from? And why was he so secretive about it?'
The question was a small, insignificant puzzle, a minor anomaly in the grand, sweeping narrative of his own return. He filed it away in the back of his mind, a detail to be analyzed later. For now, he had more important things to think about.
He looked at the vibrant, happy girl on his arm, and then at the bustling, chaotic city around them. A different kind of thought, a darker, more pressing one, entered his mind.
"Xiao Wu," he began, his voice a low, serious sound. "In this past year… have you heard any news of them? Of the Emperor Team? Of… Zhang Tian?"
The name was a cold, hard stone in his throat.
Xiao Wu's happy, cheerful expression immediately soured. A deep, hostile frown marred her pretty features. "Hmph. Them," she spat, the word a curse. "Of course, I've heard of them. It's impossible not to. The entire city is obsessed with them."
She began to recount what she knew, her voice a mixture of a grudging, reluctant respect and a deep, profound, and utterly personal hatred.
"Their training is a complete secret," she said, her brow furrowed in frustration. "The Grandmaster tried to find out. He even had Dean Flender sneak into the Imperial Academy to try and watch them. But the security there is insane now. Dean Flender said it was like trying to break into the Spirit Hall itself. He was almost caught by one of their new Spirit Douluo guards. He had to use all his speed just to get away."
She kicked at a loose stone on the ground, a small, frustrated gesture. "And in the Great Spirit Arena… they're a nightmare. They've been fighting there for the past year, and they have never, ever, lost. Not a single match."
She looked up at him, her large, beautiful eyes filled with a mixture of anger and a faint, lingering awe. "They don't just beat their opponents, Third Brother. They dismantle them. Even the strongest teams, teams of late-stage Spirit Ancestors, guys at Level 48, Level 49… they can't even touch them. It's like they're playing a different game."
She then told him of the individual members, of the rumors that had been spreading through the city's spirit master community.
"That Dugu Yan woman," she said, her voice a low, grim sound, "the one with the snake spirit… it's not a snake anymore. It's a dragon. And she's not a control type. She's an assault type now. They say her attacks are a storm of poison and raw, physical power. They say she's as strong as Boss Mubai or Brother Tianheng, or even stronger."
She continued, her voice a relentless, depressing litany of their enemy's monstrous growth. "And the others, that flying guy, Yu Feng, and the other turtle brother, Shi Mo… they're all different now. Their fighting styles are strange, unpredictable. It's like that Zhang Tian has completely rebuilt them from the ground up."
Tang San listened, his face a mask of stone. He had expected them to be strong. He had not expected this.
But he was not depressed. He was not intimidated. He was… ignited. A cold, hard, and beautifully competitive fire was now burning in his gut.
"It does not matter," he said, his voice a low, confident sound. "They may be strong. They may be undefeated. But they have not faced us. They have not faced me. Now that I am back, I will lead our Shrek team. And we will be the ones who are unbeatable."
Xiao Wu looked up at him, at the absolute, unwavering confidence in his eyes, and her own worries, her own fears, just melted away. She just nodded, a brilliant, happy smile returning to her face. She trusted him. Completely.
Their serious conversation gave way to the simple, joyous pleasure of their date. They walked through the city's main shopping district, a vibrant, chaotic symphony of sights and sounds.
And it was here that Tang San truly, for the first time, saw the new world that had been born in his absence.
Xiao Wu's eyes went wide as she saw it. A small, black, box-like object in a shop window, a faint, magical light pulsing from a small screen on its front.
"Third Brother, look!" she exclaimed, pulling him towards the shop. "It's a Pager! I've always wanted one!"
Tang San looked at the strange, new device, and a familiar, intellectual frown marred his features. He saw the automatic, glowing street lamps, the silent, gliding mechanical carriages, the hundred other small, strange spirit tools that had become a part of the city's daily life. And he felt… a faint, almost imperceptible, and deeply prideful sense of contempt.
'Crude,' he thought, his mind, the mind of a master craftsman from the Tang Sect, immediately dissecting the objects around him. 'They are functional, yes. But they lack artistry. They lack subtlety. They are the work of a brute.'
He compared them to his own creations, to the intricate, deadly beauty of the Godly Zhuge Crossbow, to the elegant, silent efficiency of the Sleeve Silent Darts.
'My hidden weapons are a perfect fusion of form and function,' he thought, his chest puffing out with a secret, prideful satisfaction. 'These… these are just tools. Inferior.'
But then, he looked at the Pager again. He listened as the shopkeeper explained its function, its ability to send and receive simple, text-based messages to anyone, anywhere in the city, in an instant.
And his practical, strategic mind could not deny its value.
'To be able to contact Xiao Wu, from anywhere, at any time…' he thought, his gaze softening as he looked at the girl who was now practically bouncing with excitement. 'To know that she is safe… that is a tool of immense value.'
His decision was made in an instant.
"We will take one," he said to the shopkeeper. And then he added, his voice a calm, decisive sound, "No. We will take… thirteen."
He began to list them off. 'One for her. One for myself. One for my father. One for my teacher. One for Dean Flender. One for Teacher Zhao. And one for each of the other five members of our team. And one teacher's lover, Teacher Liu Erlong.'
The shopkeeper's eyes widened at the size of the order. But he just nodded, a happy, greedy smile on his face.
The price, for thirteen of the devices, was surprisingly, almost laughably, low. The Pagers had been designed for the mass market, their price point set to be affordable for even a common, middle-class family.
For Tang San, it was a drop in an ocean of wealth. The Strength Clan, under his guidance, had been a busy, productive, and incredibly profitable enterprise. The sale of his lower-grade hidden weapons to a select few, trusted mercenary teams and minor clans had brought in a steady, powerful stream of gold spirit coins. He was, in his own right, a very, very wealthy young man.
With their new, precious Pagers safely stored in his Twenty-Four Moonlight Bridges, their shopping spree continued.
They were no longer just looking. They were buying.
Xiao Wu dragged him from one shop to another, her energy a boundless, joyful thing. She bought a dozen new hair ribbons, in every color of the rainbow. She bought a new set of practical, but still cute, training clothes. She even, with a brilliant, blushing smile, bought a new, simple, but beautifully crafted set of everyday robes for him, a gift that he accepted with a warm, happy heart.
They walked through the city, their hands full of packages, their hearts full of a simple, quiet, and profound happiness. The world, for a few, precious hours, was a beautiful, perfect place. The shadows of their enemies, the weight of their ambitions, it all just faded away, replaced by the simple, joyous pleasure of being together.
A week later, the news arrived.
The Spirit Hall's declaration echoed through the city, and Tang San felt a jolt of pure, triumphant joy. His clan. His father's clan. They were free.
He spent the next week in a state of quiet, happy anticipation. He heard the rumors, of course. Of a new, powerful sect establishing itself in the hills east of the city. He knew it was them. He wanted to go. He wanted to meet them. But he held himself back.
'They are settling in,' he had thought, his mind a mature, respectful place. 'I will not disturb them. I will wait and then pay them a visit.'
And a week later, they did.
He was in the middle of a training session with his team when he saw them. Three figures, walking across the training field with an air of quiet, unshakeable authority that seemed to make the very air around them hum with respect.
The man in the center was tall, his face a handsome, sorrowful mirror of his own father's. He moved with a quiet, regal grace, a king in all but name.
To his right was an older man, his expression calm, his eyes as clear and as deep as a mountain lake. And on his left, another elder, his face a mask of impatient, fiery energy, his eyes seeming to crackle with a barely contained power.
This was them. This was his clan.
He looked at his teacher, who gave him a single, subtle nod of encouragement.
He walked forward to meet them.
Tang Xiao stopped before him. He looked at the boy who was his nephew, the son of his beloved, reckless younger brother. He saw the same fierce, unyielding resolve in his eyes.
"You are Tang San," he said, his voice a low, gentle sound. "I am Tang Xiao. Your father, Tang Hao, is my younger brother. I am your uncle."
Tang San looked at the man before him, at his uncle, and a wave of pure, profound, and almost painful emotion washed over him. He looked at his teacher, at Yu Xiaogang, who gave him another, firmer nod.
He took a deep, steadying breath. And he bowed. "Uncle," he said, the word a quiet, respectful, and beautiful sound.
Tang Xiao smiled, a rare, genuine expression of warmth that seemed to light up his sorrowful face. "Your father has told me of you," he said, his voice filled with a new, powerful pride. "He told me you possess Twin Spirits. And Full Innate Spirit Power. A peerless genius. He told me that one of your spirits, the Blue Silver Grass, has mutated into a powerful, poison-attribute form. And that the other… the other is the spirit of our sect."
He looked at his nephew, his eyes shining with an eager, almost desperate, hope. "Show me, nephew. Show me the Clear Sky Hammer."
Tang San's heart, which had been a soaring, happy thing just moments before, plummeted. A cold, sick dread coiled in the pit of his stomach.
He looked around. He saw the expectant, proud faces of his uncle, of the two elders. He saw the curious, excited faces of his friends, of Xiao Wu, of Dai Mubai, of Oscar, of Ma Hongjun. He saw the calm, confident face of his teacher.
And from a place he could not see, from a shadow in the deep woods that bordered the academy, he felt another gaze upon him. A heavy, sorrowful, and proud gaze. His father.
They were all watching. They were all waiting.
He couldn't refuse.
With a deep, shuddering breath, his hand, which felt like it belonged to someone else, moved. He held it out, palm up. He focused his will.
And he summoned it.
The Clear Sky Hammer materialized in his hand. It was a magnificent, terrifying thing, its black, metallic surface seeming to drink the very light from the air.
And at its base, three new spirit rings pulsed into existence.
They were not yellow. They were not purple. They were not black.
They were white.
Three pathetic, weak, and utterly useless, ten-year-old, white spirit rings.
The world seemed to stop.
The air was sucked from the training field. The proud, excited expressions on the faces of his clan, of his friends, of his teacher, all shattered, replaced by a single, share devastatingly profound expression of pure shock.
The Seventh Elder, Tang Haien, a man known for his fiery, explosive temper, was the first to find his voice.
"What… what is this?!" he roared, his voice a raw, ragged sound of pure, incredulous fury. "White rings?! On a Clear Sky Hammer?! Is this a joke?!"
Tang Xiao just stared, his face a mask of stone, but his sorrowful eyes were a swirling vortex of disbelief and a dawning and terrible disappointment.
And from his hidden vantage point in the deep, silent woods, a single, choked, and utterly, completely, and heartbreakingly agonized sound was torn from Tang Hao's lips.
He looked at his son, at the pathetic, white rings that now adorned his clan's most sacred weapon. And the world, for the second time in his long, sorrowful life, turned to ash.
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "Douluo Dalu: Time Travel", "Harem Master: Seduction System" and the "Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist" and I hope you like this story and those stories as well.
Check out more chapters on my P.atreon. The P.atreon will have 20+ Chapters ahead for this story. I hope you like it.
The link of p.atreon is: bit.ly/evildragon