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"The third round of the round-robin, first match: Shrek Academy versus Zhengtian Senior Soul Master Academy of the Tianhun Empire. Both teams, please enter the standby zone and send one representative to the dueling platform to draw the match format."
Under the gaze of countless eyes, Cheng Gang ascended to the center of the dueling platform.
The moment his voice faded, Wang Yan, seated calmly as if fishing in still waters, gave Chen Junting a subtle nod. Chen Junting lightly tapped the ground—his body gliding forward as though weightless, arriving effortlessly at the center of the platform, where he locked eyes with Ye Wuqing.
Ye Wuqing's gaze was sharp as a blade, fixed unblinkingly on Chen Junting.
His lips parted slightly—as if he were about to speak—
"I know you."
Four words, softly spoken, yet left Chen Junting momentarily puzzled. 'So many people know me by now—is this really worth remarking on?'
But he sensed it immediately: this man, who had once refused Shrek Academy's invitation, did not look down on him. That piercing, sword-like gaze carried not disdain—but raw, unfiltered battle intent.
As if he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.
Then, as the draw commenced, both sides—silent until now—moved simultaneously. A silent, unseen contest of speed and control erupted: two hands flicked, two soul powers surged—and a small ball, trembling mid-air, was sent hurtling toward Cheng Gang with flawless precision, landing squarely in his palm.
A warning glance passed between them. Cheng Gang raised his voice:
"Shrek Academy versus Zhengtian Academy—draw result: 2-2-3 format. Two rounds of two-on-two, followed by one three-on-three. If one side wins both two-on-two matches, they advance. If each side wins one, the final three-on-three determines the victor."
Returning to the standby zone, all eyes turned to Chen Junting.
"This is our first time facing the 2-2-3 format," he said, glancing at Wang Yan.
"Teacher Wang Yan, let's proceed as discussed."
"Agreed," Wang Yan replied, his gaze settling on Chen Junting and Gongyang Mo. "Then the first match is yours. If you can—win beautifully."
"No problem."
Chen Junting rolled his wrists, cracking them with a sharp snap. Gongyang Mo leapt to his feet, grinning with barely contained excitement. Finally—he would feel the thrill of real firepower.
As they stepped onto the dueling platform, he saw the two representatives from Zhengtian Academy. His calm expression ignited instantly into battle fervor. There was no mistaking them: Yu Mengdi and Ye Wuqing.
"Sister Mengdi—long time no see."
"Indeed, it has been a long time."
Yu Mengdi smiled warmly. "Back then, I knew it—I was right. If you entered the Tournament, you'd become my greatest rival."
"Do you really need to guess?" Chen Junting replied, voice calm, unyielding. "And 'rival'? I never thought of you that way."
No humility. No pretense. Only absolute, unshakable confidence.
"Little man, don't talk so big."
"Do you truly believe you can win this match?"
His eyes flicked to Ye Wuqing beside her. He knew—they were going all out. This first match was their target. They intended to take it decisively.
Zhengtian's decision was based on Shrek's recent "training matches"—their pattern of fielding only three Soul Kings, and assigning just one per round in the 2-2-3 format.
With two Soul Kings against one, winning the first round seemed certain. Then, they would rely on Tang Xiaolei to carry the rest.
It was a brilliant, calculated plan.
Even Wang Yan, watching from the sidelines, furrowed his brow.
But within moments, his expression relaxed.
Are two Soul Kings strong?
Of course they are.
But he trusted Chen Junting and Gongyang Mo more.
"Junior brother—I'll follow your lead," Gongyang Mo said, his voice soft, delicate, almost feminine—a tone that made Chen Junting's skin crawl.
He rolled his eyes in disgust. "Just give me the buff, and let's fight normally."
Moments later, the four combatants took their positions on opposite sides of the platform, as tradition dictated.
Cheng Gang's voice boomed: "Begin."
A pure, holy aura erupted from behind Yu Mengdi—two flawless white wings, glowing with golden radiance, unfurled from her back. The sacred light didn't just illuminate her—it washed over the entire arena, soft and divine.
But the next instant, that sanctity was shattered.
In its place—a torrent of razor-sharp sword qi!
"Little man, you show me no mercy at all."
Before Chen Junting could respond, one of Yu Mengdi's soul rings flared to life. Golden light surged as two identical long swords materialized in her hands—the sacred aura intensifying, swelling like a divine tide.
Her wings beat once—and she dove downward, blades gleaming.
Chen Junting's right foot tapped the ground—he leapt into the air. The moment the Seven Kill Sword settled into his grip, a phantom blade formed beneath his feet, instantly transforming into a streak of light as he met her descent head-on. His wrist twisted—
The Seven Kill Sword snapped into place, perfectly blocking both angelic blades.
A crimson flash surged into his body—59% power amplification, delivered by Gongyang Mo's soul skills.
With a single, effortless reverse slash, Chen Junting drove Yu Mengdi back—snatching back the advantage she had held.
To his surprise, she didn't frown.
She smiled.
"Little man," she teased, "didn't your Shrek Academy ever teach you that in battle, the support Soul Master is the one you must protect?"
Below, Ye Wuqing's piercing eyes had already locked onto Gongyang Mo—the auxiliary Soul Master.
Between his fingers, he held a single leaf, its surface etched with intricate golden patterns.
And then—he struck.
Ding—
The Golden Leaf emitted a resonant, metallic chime.
In an instant, its golden hue deepened into blazing crimson-gold. Its speed tripled—hurtling toward Gongyang Mo with terrifying velocity. A Soul King auxiliary? There was no escape.
But what happened next—
caught Ye Wuqing completely off guard.
A shield, no larger than a ring, snapped into existence before Gongyang Mo in a flash of motion too swift to follow. A deafening explosion erupted—crimson-gold flames scattered wildly—
But Gongyang Mo stood untouched.
Then—
A metallic gleam, streaked with fire.
A wave of icy dread pierced Ye Wuqing's spine.
He didn't hesitate. He vanished from his position.
The next second, a beam of blinding white light tore through the flames—a perfect, bowl-sized hole blasted through the air directly toward his former location. He barely dodged in time.
Had he been a fraction slower—he would have been crippled.
"Pity," Gongyang Mo called out, his voice light. "So close."
The fire cleared. He hovered above the platform, wings of the Rainbow Dragon beating gently beneath him. His overall appearance—delicate, almost effeminate—stood in jarring contrast to the massive soul guidance device cannon mounted on his shoulder.
Meanwhile, above the Arena, Chen Junting looked at Yu Mengdi, his calm tone not lacking in teasing, "Who says supports need protection? Don't you know the times have changed?"
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