"Pack your belongings. You nine are expelled."
A stern, silver-haired woman addressed a group of exhausted students as Class Nine descended the stairs.
"Shrek Academy has no place for opportunists. Strength without proper character breeds disaster, not aid, for any nation."
Expelled?
Class Nine stared in shock.
Just like that?
Their gazes shifted to their teacher Mu Jin ahead. Surely she wouldn't do this…
An Zhen's eyes found two familiar figures: a handsome youth supporting a gasping boy who seemed ready to collapse.
What kind of teacher does this?
His heart clenched at his little protégé's state. Malnourished and frail, only recent proper meals, the Profound Heaven Technique, and Blackwater Pill had sustained her through this ordeal.
True, those students cut corners.
But they're eleven-year-olds who made mistakes—not criminals.
A teacher's duty was to guide and correct—to sculpt rough stone into priceless art. A golden statue's value lay in the material, not the craft.
Shrek's founder had been lucky ten thousand years ago: recruiting prodigies like a food-system soul master with innate full soul power under dire conditions. Other academy heads would've wept with envy.
By the Ultimate Douluo era, Shrek monopolized elite students globally. Even now, this privilege let teachers like Zhou Yi impose brutal filters beyond strict enrollment.
But not my concern. Zhou Yi's methods were flawed, yet she'd championed Huo Yuhao in the original tale, recommending him to Fan Yu and fiercely protecting her students.
An Zhen's gaze snagged on a figure in the distance.
"Teacher, may I speak with my grandfather?"
"Granted."
Mu Jin nodded. Though class was in session, exceptional students earned leeway.
Odd. An Zhen's file listed him as an orphan. When did he gain a grandfather here?
"Grandfather."
An Zhen approached the sunbathing elder, dutifully massaging his shoulders.
"What is it?" The old man smiled at the attentive youth.
"We're about to spar."
"Hm."
"Senior Apprentice Sister Zhang calls you 'Honored Ancestor.' You must be immensely powerful. May I use my second soul skill to replicate your Martial Soul?"
An Zhen could covertly copy it in his virtual world—as he'd done with Zhang Lexuan—but secrecy risked offense if discovered.
Second Soul Skill: Replicate
First Soul Skill: Reflect
Reflect could project a person—or isolate their Martial Soul. Replicate could imprint that Martial Soul and soul rings onto himself.
Theoretically, An Zhen could mirror full strength. But practical limits existed:
One or two rings: manageable
Three rings: strenuous (minutes max, recovery needed)
Four rings: severely injured
Five rings: instant collapse
A risky combat option. Using his World Martial Soul was flashier and more efficient, but public displays demanded costly energy.
"Granted."
A yellow soul ring glowed.
Light Holy Dragon—secured!
A Super Martial Soul surpassing Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon and Black Tortoise!
In his virtual world, a wheelchair-bound elder sat like a slumbering dragon—a being at the world's apex.
"Thank you, Grandfather." An Zhen hesitated. "How might I repay this kindness?"
"You can wield copied Martial Souls?" Mu En's voice was measured.
"Yes."
"I heard you defeated one of the so-called 'Outer Court Twin Stars.'" A benevolent smile touched his lips. "Use this Martial Soul to defeat the other."
"At once!"
Bei Bei… your ancestor's orders. Blame filial piety.
But I'll plan carefully—harming him risks backlash.
Mu En was a mentor like the tales: journeying to the Far North to confirm Huo Yuhao's Ice Jade Scorpion Emperor Martial Soul without interrogation, then nurturing him.
Combat Arena
An Zhen arrived at the designated dueling zone—a specialized facility where students sparred under teacher supervision for a fee. Healers stood ready, and referees ensured safety. The tradition echoed Shrek's founding dean, Flender, who mandated combat points for graduation.
"I thought you fled." The fiery-haired Wu Feng blocked his path.
"Wouldn't dare skip class."
The youth, half a head taller, studied her thoughtfully.
"What?" she snapped.
"Realized you're quite striking." An Zhen's tone was earnest.
"Obviously!"
She stomped, cheeks flushing, then spun away—only to whirl back, chin lifted triumphantly. "Wait—are you buttering me up?" Her smirk declared she'd seen through him.
Adorably dense.
Too adorably dense.
"Believe what you wish."
Arrogant or just slow?
"Hmph!" Wu Feng jabbed a finger at the empty arena. "Let's go."
Observer Stands
Mu Jin conversed with Wang Yan—a bespectacled, black-haired man in his thirties. Violet eyes glinted with intellect.
"The dean mentioned a student in your class with a unique Martial Soul."
"You mean An Zhen? His file lists 'World,' but specifics are confidential."
Mu Jin brightened. "He's here."
"Oh?"
Wang Yan followed her gaze to the arena floor, where the black-haired youth faced the red-haired girl.
Arena Floor
"Surrender now," Wu Feng taunted, arms crossed. Her posture strained her uniform, accentuating youthful curves.
Very "proud."
"Break a leg." An Zhen winked.
"Retreat to corners! Release Martial Souls on my command!" Mu Jin descended, notebook in hand.
They stepped back.
"Begin!"
"ROAR!"
A savage dragon's cry split the air. Crimson light erupted from Wu Feng as her body expanded, shredding her uniform to reveal black bodysuit beneath. Scarlet scales cascaded from her left cheek down her arm, blazing like wildfire. Two yellow soul rings rose.
"First Soul Skill: Dragonfire!"
"Second Soul Skill: Dragon's Fury!"
Flames engulfed her left arm. She lunged—a crimson arrow—lava-like patterns glowing on her face as heatwaves surged.
"An Zhen! I won't hold back!"
Twenty meters vanished in two breaths.
"Mm."
An Zhen remained serene, sunlight haloing him like a child of dawn.
"AAAHNG!"
A noble dragon's bellow answered.
Sacred. Majestic.
Warmth washed over every student, stirring instinctive reverence.
"Impossible!" Wang Yan shot to his feet, eyes locked on the luminous figure. "The… Light Holy Dragon!"
An Zhen's hair shimmered gold. His smile radiated warmth as white-gold scales—crafted from divine jade—gleamed. The sun itself seemed to rise behind him.
"First Soul Skill: Holy Light Dragon Claw!"
His clawed hand seized a fragment of sunlight.
Wu Feng's spirit quailed. Her Red Dragon, dominant against other beast souls, cowered before its superior.
"I'll WIN!"
She forced her Martial Soul onward. A flaming draconic claw met the holy light.
CRACK!
Fist met fist.
"Guh!—"
Light and concussive force shattered through her arm. Color drained from her face; the fire in her eyes guttered.
"The Martial Soul gap is insurmountable," Wang Yan murmured, regaining composure. "Similar soul power, two buffs versus one—none bridge the chasm between Red Dragon and Light Holy Dragon."
(End of Chapter)