Your Goal is the Championship
The month that followed was a relentless cycle of exertion and analysis. Mornings echoed with the clang of practice weapons and the crackle of unleashed soul skills on the training grounds. Afternoons were spent in hushed classrooms, dissecting battle recordings frame-by-frame, Wu Changkong's sharp voice pointing out flaws and opportunities. Evenings brought a different kind of strain—the mental fatigue of advanced theory and strategy.
Through it all, Yao Xuan, Gu Yue, Tang Wulin, and Xie Xie maintained their weekly pilgrimage to the Spirit Ascension Platform. The shift to the Intermediate Platform was palpable. The air itself felt heavier, charged with the presence of stronger, smarter beasts. Thousand-year soul beasts were common, and the distant, earth-shaking roars hinted at entities surpassing three or even six thousand years of cultivation. Yao Xuan, exercising caution, did not venture deep enough to provoke the true lords of that space, but the challenge was undeniable. Each foray was a harrowing test of their evolving teamwork and individual limits, each exit leaving them breathless but richer in experience and hard-won power.
The gains were substantial. Yao Xuan could feel his Ancestral Dragon Soul Spirit thickening with power, its cultivation solidly reaching 1700 years. His spiritual sea expanded, a crystalline lake of awareness measured at 373 points. Most vitally, the arduous trials and constant refinement stirred his bloodline, inching it forward to 26.6%. Yet, his soul power remained stubbornly at rank 25, a bottleneck that refused to budge despite the flood of other advancements.
Gu Yue, Xie Xie, and Tang Wulin saw similar plateaus in their soul power ranks, their growth funneling into control and skill instead. The exception was Xu Xiaoyan. Free from the Platform's pressures but fully immersed in Class Zero's grueling regimen, her soul power quietly solidified, climbing from rank 17 to 18.
Her integration into the class was seamless. Where Gu Yue was a silvery enigma, a closed book open only to Yao Xuan, Xu Xiaoyan was sunlight and open laughter. Her cheerful nature and quick wit disarmed the boys' competitive edges, and her genuine eagerness to learn earned Wu Changkong's quiet approval. She became the class's lively heart, a source of shared jokes and morale. Even Gu Yue's initial, instinctive wariness—a Silver Dragon King's vigilance toward an unknown variable—gradually thawed into passive acceptance, seeing the girl as a harmless, if energetically bright, part of Yao Xuan's world.
On the final morning of training, Wu Changkong called them together. Dust motes danced in the slanted sunlight of the training hall, highlighting the sweat on their brows. "We depart for Tianhai City tomorrow to make our final preparations for the alliance tournament," he announced, his voice cutting through their heavy breathing. "Consider the afternoon and evening yours. Rest. Pack. Be ready for a journey and a contest that will last over ten days."
A collective, weary-but-excited "Yes, Teacher Wu!" echoed back.
It was Tang Wulin who raised a hand, his expression earnest. "Teacher, Yao Xuan and I… we're also registered for the blacksmith competition segment of the Grand Tournament. It won't conflict, will it?"
Wu Changkong gave a slight, knowing nod. "I've reviewed the schedules. The blacksmithing events are sequenced separately from the Soul Master bouts. You won't be pulled in two directions at once. Focus on one arena at a time."
Tang Wulin's shoulders slumped in visible relief. "Thank you, Teacher."
"Now," Wu Changkong continued, his gaze sweeping over the five of them, sharpening. "Understand what you are walking into. The Tianhai Alliance Grand Tournament is a vast machine with many cogs. You will enter the Junior Division, for those under fifteen."
He paced slowly before them, his boots whispering on the floor. "The formats are twofold: individual and team. Team events split further into three-person, five-person, and seven-person brackets. The seven-person is the premiere event, but we lack the numbers. The five-person is beneath you; the competition would be trivial. Therefore, you will compete in the three-person team event."
His eyes locked onto Yao Xuan, then Gu Yue, then Xie Xie. "Your starting lineup: Yao Xuan, Gu Yue, Xie Xie. Tang Wulin, Xu Xiaoyan, you will be reserves and will see action in the preliminary stages to gain experience." He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "Your objective is singular. It is non-negotiable. You will win the team championship for your division. I have no stipulations for your individual performances because I will not tolerate individual glory compromising team cohesion. Is that understood?"
Xie Xie couldn't stifle a groan. "The championship? Teacher, have you seen us? We're ten! We'll be the youngest ones there by years. That's like asking a kitten to wrestle a tiger!"
Wu Changkong stopped pacing. He turned his head slowly toward Xie Xie, one eyebrow imperceptibly raised. The temperature in the hall seemed to drop a degree. "That," he said, his voice flat and final, "is an order. Not a suggestion. If your confidence is so lacking, I can easily promote Tang Wulin and Xu Xiaoyan to the starting roster."
The unspoken challenge hung in the air. Xie Xie shut his mouth, swallowing further complaint.
After a final, brief overview of travel logistics, Wu Changkong dismissed them.
Back in the dormitory common area, the formal tension bled away, replaced by buzzing anticipation.
"Brother Xuan, are you entering the individual competition too?" Tang Wulin asked, dropping onto a couch.
Yao Xuan, who was checking the edge of a practice dagger, nodded without looking up. "I am. The experience is valuable. Gu Yue?"
"I will compete," she affirmed from her usual spot by the window, her voice serene but firm. It was both a test of her own abilities and, unspoken, a way to walk a parallel path beside Yao Xuan.
"Of course I'm in! A chance to show off my genius on a bigger stage?" Xie Xie proclaimed, striking a pose.
Xu Xiaoyan giggled from an armchair, hugging a pillow. "I'll sit that one out, thanks. A support soul master in a daytime solo fight? I'd be like a firefly at noon. I'll save my energy to back you all up in the team matches."
All eyes turned to Tang Wulin. He had been quiet, looking at his hands—hands that were already rough and marked from the forge, but lacked the world-shaking power he dreamed of. The Golden Dragon King's seal was a constant, heavy awareness. The championship prize money Wu Changkong mentioned wasn't just a reward; it was a lifeline. The cost of breaking the first seal loomed, and his savings were still terrifyingly insufficient.
"I… I have to try," he said finally, his voice thick with determination. He clenched those hands into fists. "Teacher said the top 32 in individuals gets a significant reward. I need to get there."
Yao Xuan looked at his friend, reading the strain behind the ambition. He gave a short, supportive nod. No words were needed.
Later, as dusk painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, Yao Xuan found himself walking the quiet paths of the academy grounds with Gu Yue. Their pace was unhurried, synchronized.
"The championship directive is not unreasonable," Gu Yue stated, her eyes on the horizon. "With our combined capabilities, factoring in average strength distribution for the age bracket and accounting for unexpected variables, our probability of success exceeds 68%."
Yao Xuan smiled. It was such a Gu Yue analysis—cold, logical, yet inherently confident. "It's not the probability I'm thinking about," he said softly. "It's the look in Teacher Wu's eyes. It's not just about winning a trophy. It's about making a statement."
Gu Yue glanced at him. The fading light caught in her violet irises, turning them luminous. "A statement that Class Zero, despite its… unique composition and affiliations, is a force to be reckoned with." She understood. It was politics, it was reputation, it was a shield and a sword all at once. "We will make the statement," she concluded, simple and absolute.
As they turned back toward the dormitories, her hand, hanging by her side, brushed against his. It wasn't an accident. Her pinky finger hooked lightly around his for just a step, a fleeting, anchoring touch before she gracefully pulled away and drifted toward her own door.
It was a whisper of Na'er's innocent trust within Gu Yue's calculated resolve—a silent promise of shared battles to come. Yao Xuan closed his hand around the lingering warmth, the weight of the upcoming championship settling onto his shoulders not as a burden, but as a purpose.