The Measure of a Monster
A respectful silence enveloped the testing chamber as Yao Xuan took his seat beneath the crystal helmet. The only sounds were the low hum of soul energy and the quiet, expectant breathing of his classmates. For Tang Wulin, Xie Xie, and Gu Yue, this was a familiar scene—a monthly ritual of witnessing the impossible become routine. But for Wang Jinxi and Zhang Yangzi, it was their first glimpse into the true depth of the mountain they had tried to scale.
Yao Xuan closed his eyes, allowing the device's sensors to brush against the shores of his consciousness. He didn't resist, but he didn't assist either; he simply was. His mental landscape, fortified by the Ancestral Dragon's legacy and the meticulous structuring of the Super God System, was a fortress of serene, ordered power.
The display screen flickered to life. The numbers didn't climb in a steady crawl; they erupted. White light blurred into a streak, then resolved into a steady, glowing orange. The digits settled, bold and undeniable:
Mental Strength: 242.
Realm: Spirit Connection (Mid-Stage).
The silence deepened, then broke with the sharp, involuntary intake of breath from Wang Jinxi. Zhang Yangzi stood frozen, his usual composure shattered. Their own scores—18 and 41—suddenly felt like child's scribbles next to a master's treatise. The gulf wasn't just wide; it was existential. '242…' Zhang Yangzi's mind reeled, the memory of their fused Dark Eagle Dragon crumbling under a single claw now making a terrible, logical sense. How could they compete with a consciousness so dense? The last embers of competitive rivalry sputtered and died, replaced by the pure, clean light of awe.
Wu Zhangkong observed the number, his icy composure the only anchor in the room. A faint, almost paternal pride warred with professional astonishment. "Significant progress," he acknowledged, his voice carefully level. "The Spirit Sea realm is within sight. Maintain this discipline."
Yao Xuan removed the helmet, the faint, nine-colored afterglow in his pupils fading to their usual calm depth. "The breakthrough to Great Soul Master triggered a consolidation, Teacher Wu. The growth rate may not remain so steep."
It was a humble qualification, but it did nothing to diminish the staggering fact of the number itself.
"Understood. Gu Yue, you're next."
Gu Yue glided forward, her movements effortless. She offered Yao Xuan a subtle, sideways glance as she passed—a look that held no surprise, only a spark of playful challenge. She sat, the helmet descending over her dark hair.
The device hummed again. The numbers leapt with similar, breathtaking speed, bypassing the expected ranges until they settled:
Mental Strength: 247.
A deliberate, precise five-point lead.
Wang Jinxi's jaw, which had just closed, fell open again. Zhang Yangzi could only stare, his worldview undergoing its second seismic shift in as many minutes. This ethereal, seemingly delicate girl harbored a psychic storm stronger than the boy who had torn apart their fusion? The hierarchy of Class Zero was proving to be inverted, its true depths hidden beneath placid surfaces.
Wu Zhangkong's brow furrowed slightly. "Gu Yue, such a rapid increase, while impressive, risks instability. Control must evolve with raw power."
Gu Yue emerged from the device, her expression serene. "My elemental control requires fine-tuned spiritual manipulation, Teacher Wu. The growth is symbiotic, not forced. The purity remains intact." Her explanation was smooth, technically sound, and perfectly tailored to deflect deeper inquiry. She then cast another glance at Yao Xuan, this one carrying a whisper of mock reproach. 'You forced my hand,' her eyes seemed to say.
"Very well," Wu Zhangkong conceded, though his gaze promised intensified focus on her control exercises. "But we will incorporate advanced mental discipline drills. Mastery, not magnitude, is the ultimate goal."
"Thank you, Teacher Wu," Gu Yue replied, her smile sweet and unreadable.
"Now," Wu Zhangkong said, turning towards a massive, piston-driven apparatus with a heavily reinforced strike plate. "We assess the foundation of all physical combat: raw strength. Wang Jinxi, Zhang Yangzi, as our newest members, you first."
Zhang Yangzi stepped up. He wasn't a power-type, but the Dark Illusionary Demon Eagle granted predatory efficiency. He didn't wind up; he coiled and unleashed, a whip-crack of motion. The impact gauge shuddered.
Left: 210 kg. Right: 205 kg.
"Adequate," Wu Zhangkong noted. "Speed and precision will be your vectors. Strength supports them."
Then came Wang Jinxi. His approach was different—a gathering of mass, a low grunt as the power of the Bone Dragon King surged into his limbs. He threw a heavy, straightforward punch.
THUD.
Left: 495 kg. Right: 502 kg.
A nod from Wu Zhangkong. "A solid foundation for your archetype."
Next, Xie Xie, Tang Wulin, and Gu Yue took their turns. Their results showed the marks of Wu Zhangkong's grueling physical regimen—steady, hard-earned improvements. Tang Wulin's numbers were respectable, but the lack of a bloodline breakthrough showed; his strength was that of a very fit, dedicated boy, not yet a monster.
Finally, all eyes returned to Yao Xuan. The air grew thick with anticipation. Zhang Yangzi and Wang Jinxi leaned forward, their earlier mental shock now giving way to a need to understand the physical reality of the force that had repelled them.
Yao Xuan approached the machine. He didn't adopt a dramatic stance. He simply stood before the strike plate, his body relaxed. Then, with a motion that was neither slow nor fast, but carried a final, awful simplicity, he punched.
BANG.
The sound was different—deeper, more substantive, like a forge hammer striking an anvil. The entire apparatus groaned on its fittings. The digital display, designed for Soul Elder-level tests, flashed crimson.
Left: 4,810 kg.
A beat of silence.
He switched hands.
BANG.
Right: 5,120 kg.
The numbers hung in the air, not as digits, but as verdicts.
Wang Jinxi felt his own 500-kilogram punch become a phantom, a feeble tap in memory. His brain refused to process it. 'Five… thousand? Without martial soul possession?' He looked at Yao Xuan's unassuming frame, then back at the display. The contradiction was mind-breaking. Zhang Yangzi simply shook his head slowly, a silent laugh of disbelief escaping his lips. Any lingering thought of ever matching this power evaporated.
Even Tang Wulin and Xie Xie, accustomed to Yao Xuan's lead, stared. They had seen two thousand kilograms. Five thousand was a new continent of capability.
Only Gu Yue remained unmoved, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. To her, this was not an anomaly; it was a confirmation. The right of the Ancestral Dragon.
Wu Zhangkong's analytical mind raced. "Explain," he commanded, his voice sharper than intended. Such a leap defied all normal growth curves, even for a body-enhancing martial soul.
Yao Xuan met his gaze, ready with the curated truth. "It seems to be a latent trait of my martial soul, Teacher Wu. The Great Soul Master breakthrough didn't just increase my soul power; it… unlocked a new tier of physical integration. The growth has been steady since." He left the Gold Evolution Points and bloodline percentages unmentioned, the core of the mystery safely veiled.
Wu Zhangkong held his stare for a long moment, then gave a slow, accepting nod. The mysteries of top-tier martial souls were vast. "If this is a natural expression of your spirit, then we will build upon it. Your combat training will focus on translating this power into speed, technique, and impervious defense. Wasted force is no force at all."
"Thank you, Teacher Wu."
"Now," Wu Zhangkong gestured back to the machine. "Martial soul possession. Full power. Do not hold back."
Yao Xuan nodded. He took a centering breath. Soul power surged, and the air around him shimmered. Nine-colored scales traced over his skin, his hands morphing into those devastating, luminous claws. The Ancestral Dragon Possession wasn't just a change; it was an unveiling. A palpable, heavy pressure emanated from him, the benign weight of ancient authority.
In Wang Jinxi, his Bone Dragon King martial soul flinched. It was a subtle, internal cringe—a deep-seated, bloodline recognition of something categorically superior. 'What is that?' he thought, a shiver that was not entirely fear tracing his spine.
But for Gu Yue, the effect was profoundly different. As the pure, primordial aura of the Ancestral Dragon washed over her, it resonated with the Silver Dragon King's essence slumbering within. A warm, dizzying rush of familiarity and longing swept through her. It wasn't romantic desire; it was a draconic instinct, a soul-deep recognition of one's own kind, of the other half of a celestial whole. The human part of her saw Yao Xuan, her strategic partner, her growing attachment. The dragon part saw the Ancestral Dragon's heir, the source of her own power, a beacon of home.
A wild, utterly unbidden thought flashed through her mind, vivid and instinctual: 'I want to get closer. To feel that aura undistorted. To… to taste it.' The thought manifested as a primal, almost magnetic pull, a desire to press her cheek against the scales on his arm, to feel the hum of that power against her skin. She disguised it instantly, a faint flush that could be attributed to the room's warmth, a slight tightening of her fingers. But the echo of the impulse remained, a secret, thrilling testament to the true natures dancing beneath the surface of a freshman classroom. She looked at Yao Xuan, not just as a classmate or a strategic ally, but as a dragon looks upon its sovereign sky—with a complex, irresistible yearning that had just discovered its true name.