The silence on the training field was a heavy, suffocating blanket. It was a silence filled with the ghosts of shattered pride and the stark, undeniable truth of a humiliating defeat. Yu Xiaogang's declaration of surrender echoed in the ears of his students, each word a branding iron searing the mark of failure onto their souls.
Zhang Tian offered a final, polite nod to the Grandmaster, his expression betraying neither triumph nor arrogance. It was a simple, clinical acknowledgement. He turned, and without a backward glance, walked away from the field of his victory.
Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing immediately fell into step beside him, their loyalty a visible, tangible thing. They didn't gloat. They didn't cheer. They simply flanked him, a silent, unified front, and the three of them departed, leaving the fractured remains of the Shrek team to lick their wounds in the shadow of their teacher's failed strategy.
The moment they were gone, the dam of stunned silence broke.
"Third Brother!" Xiao Wu rushed to Tang San's side, her pretty face a mask of furious indignation. "You fought so well! It wasn't your fault at all!"
Oscar nodded vigorously, hurrying over with a look of genuine concern. "That's right, Xiao San! You were amazing! It's just… their teamwork was too weird! And that Zhang Tian, his spirit is just a freakish counter to yours!"
Xiao Wu's gaze, filled with venom, shifted to the two unconscious forms still lying on the ground. "It was their fault!" she declared, pointing an accusatory finger. "They're completely useless! Especially you, Dai Mubai!" she kicked his limp form lightly, her anger needing a physical outlet. "You're a Spirit Elder, and you couldn't even handle a little support master like Rongrong! She ran circles around you and made you look like a complete fool! If it had been me, I would have taken her out in ten seconds!"
She then glared at the portly, snoring form of Ma Hongjun. "And you! You got beaten so fast by Zhuqing! How are you supposed to be a phoenix spirit user? You're more like a fat, plucked chicken! How was my Third Brother supposed to win when his teammates are a degenerate, brainless tiger and a useless lustful, fat chicken?!"
Her blunt, childishly cruel words, surprisingly, were a strange sort of comfort to Tang San. They mirrored the very excuses that were already taking root in his own mind, validating the narrative of his blameless defeat. He felt the hot sting of his anger and humiliation begin to cool, replaced by a more familiar, righteous indignation.
"Xiao Wu, that's enough," he said, though his voice lacked any real reprimand. "But… you're not wrong. Still," he added, a grim look on his face as he forced himself to acknowledge the bitter truth, "we can't forget that Boss Mubai and I are both Spirit Elders. Zhang Tian, Rongrong, and Zhuqing are all just Spirit Grandmasters. For them to defeat us so decisively… their strength truly cannot be taken lightly."
Yu Xiaogang stepped forward then, his face a stony mask, though a flicker of deep, analytical thought burned behind his spectacles. "Xiao San," he began, his voice its usual flat monotone, "let's analyze the battle. Your initial strategy was sound. The pincer movement between your control and Hongjun's fire suppression should have been effective."
He paused, his brow furrowing. "The first unexpected variable was Zhang Tian's ability to neutralize your Miasma Pulse Root. He seems to be able to absorb the poison into his vines and then sever them from his main body, sacrificing a small amount of spirit power to negate the attack completely. It's an ingenious, if wasteful, method. We did not account for that."
His gaze shifted. "The second, and perhaps more critical, failure was on Mubai's front. We severely underestimated the effectiveness of Ning Rongrong's evasive training. Her ability to not only survive but to actively kite a superior opponent was the turning point. It disrupted our formation and allowed Zhu Zhuqing the freedom to flank and eliminate Hongjun."
He looked at Tang San again. "And finally, Zhu Zhuqing. Her self-created spirit skills are surprisingly potent. They are fluid and efficient, lacking the rigidity of standard spirit ring abilities. Her combat power, especially when amplified by Rongrong's support, is far greater than her spirit rank would suggest."
Flender, Zhao Wuji, and the other teachers had gathered around, their own faces grim. "Don't be too discouraged, Xiao San," Flender said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "There's always a next time. Now that you know their tricks, you'll be prepared."
"That's right," Zhao Wuji rumbled. "A loss can be a better teacher than a hundred victories. It shows you where you are weak."
Yu Xiaogang nodded, his mind already formulating a new, more brutal training regimen. "Indeed. And we have identified a clear weakness: your physical conditioning is still insufficient. Starting tomorrow, all of you," he looked at Tang San, Xiao Wu, and Oscar, "will begin gravity training under Teacher Zhao's supervision. We will forge your bodies until they are as resilient as tempered steel."
With a nod from the Grandmaster, Zhao Wuji and Flender moved to collect the two unconscious students, hauling the heavy forms of Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun over their shoulders like sacks of potatoes and carrying them towards the medical hut. The other teachers dispersed, leaving Yu Xiaogang alone with his prized disciple.
Once they were certain they were out of earshot, the Grandmaster's stiff posture relaxed fractionally. "Do not let this defeat weigh on you, Xiao San," he said, his voice losing some of its clinical coldness. "Zhang Tian's victory was a fluke, a combination of unexpected tactics and your teammates' incompetence. Your true advantage is not something he can ever hope to overcome."
Tang San looked at his teacher, a flicker of his earlier desperation returning. "But Teacher, if I could just use my other spirit… with the Clear Sky Hammer, I know I could defeat him. Why can't I add rings to it? It would make everything so much easier."
Yu Xiaogang looked at his disciple, a faint, fond smile touching his lips. "Foolish child. You are still looking at the surface. Tell me, what do you believe is the greatest advantage of possessing Twin Martial Spirits?"
Tang San answered without hesitation, repeating the common wisdom. "The abilities of two spirits. One spirit can at most only have nine spirit rings, which is also nine abilities. But I have two spirits, so it's eighteen abilities."
The Grandmaster's brows furrowed, but his smile remained. "Foolish kid, fortunately you have me to learn from. Why can't you still see it clearly? Correct, after twin spirits have cultivated to the Title Douluo realm, they can indeed possess eighteen spirit rings, eighteen spirit abilities. But, you've forgotten, even though you have twin spirits, you can only use one spirit at a time. In other words, at most you can only use nine spirit rings at the same time, that's all. Even though you can change a bit more than ordinary Spirit Masters, is this the mystery of twin spirits? Then you are underestimating the gift of twin spirits too much."
A look of dawning enlightenment crossed Tang San's face. "Teacher, you mean to say… "
Yu Xiaogang nodded, his eyes gleaming with the fervor of a theorist explaining his magnum opus. "I am advocating having you first cultivate your Blue Silver Grass, is because it's inferior to the Clear Sky Hammer. The greatest advantage of twin spirits is the ability to first cultivate one spirit. Even though your Clear Sky Hammer doesn't have any spirit rings at present, your spirit power has already reached the thirty fourth rank. Think about it. If you right now began to add spirit rings to your Clear Sky Hammer, then what level of spirit rings would that be? Thousand year. But what if your Blue Silver Grass first reaches the Title Douluo level, and then you add spirit rings to the Clear Sky Hammer? What level then?"
He leaned in, his voice dropping to an intense, conspiratorial whisper. "My goal is to create an unimaginable existence with all spirit rings over ten thousand years. But these circumstances can only appear with a Spirit Master with twin spirits. Your other spirit is Blue Silver Grass, I don't expect you to cultivate to the ninetieth rank, but as long as you can cultivate to the sixtieth rank or higher, then, in the future it will be possible to create an all ten thousand year spirit ring Clear Sky Hammer. At that time, let alone one Title Douluo, even two at once, how might they be your opponents? Equally at the ninetieth rank, relying on your nine ten thousand year spirit rings to add all sorts of attributes, how could an ordinary Spirit Master compare? This is my true goal."
He straightened up, his explanation delivered. "Right now my sole worry is whether your two spirits will come into conflict when you start adding spirit rings to the Clear Sky Hammer. In Spirit Master history, you are the third person to possess twin spirits. We're not the only smart people, and if we've thought of something, then others have thought of it too. The first Spirit Master to possess twin spirits came to an extremely miserable end. When he added spirit rings to his second spirit, after adding the third, the two spirits came into conflict, bursting his body. But the second person to possess twin spirits was successful, becoming a power unprecedented in history. In other words, according to this cultivation method with twin spirits, the probability of success is fifty percent."
He placed a reassuring hand on Tang San's shoulder. "Perhaps your odds are a bit higher, after all, even until now your Clear Sky Hammer and Blue Silver Grass haven't shown any signs of conflict. I've been constantly researching this question over these years, how to add spirit rings to your Clear Sky Hammer in the future so that they don't come into conflict."
"Not letting people know about the twin spirits is out of fear that some formidable spirit master will take a detrimental interest in you. Having you first cultivate Blue Silver Grass is a method to let you become even stronger. Now you understand. As for what to choose in the future, that is up to you."
Under his teacher's detailed, breathtaking explanation, Tang San's last vestiges of doubt and resentment were washed away. He felt a profound, renewed sense of purpose. His defeat was insignificant. It was a single, lost battle in a war he was destined to win. His future was a glorious, sunlit path, and his teacher was the wise, infallible guide who would lead him there.
Far from the grim post-mortems and grand theorizing, a very different atmosphere prevailed. Laughter, bright and unrestrained, echoed through the quiet woods as Zhang Tian's victorious trio made their way back to their luxurious quarters.
Ning Rongrong was practically skipping, her earlier nervousness completely gone, replaced by the pure, unadulterated joy of victory. "Did you see his face?!" she giggled, recounting Dai Mubai's futile chase for the tenth time. "He looked like a big, stupid cat chasing a fish! And the way you took out that fatty, Zhuqing! Pow! Right in the chest! It was amazing!"
Zhu Zhuqing, for her part, was a portrait of quiet satisfaction. A small, rare smile played on her lips. The victory was sweet, but the feeling of finally, definitively, defeating her arrogant fiancé was a pleasure far deeper, a validation of her own strength and her decision to break away from him. Her gaze kept drifting to Zhang Tian, her dark eyes filled with a fervent, secret admiration. It was all because of him. His training, his strategy, his unwavering support. He was the architect of her triumph.
"You were both magnificent today," Zhang Tian said, his voice warm with genuine pride. "I am very pleased. But," he added, a familiar, serious note entering his tone, "we maintain this pace. We increase the complexity. This is just the beginning." He paused, a grin spreading across his face. "But that is for tomorrow. For tonight, we celebrate. We're going to Suotuo City for a victory party. My treat."
"Yes!" Ning Rongrong cheered.
As they walked, a quiet conversation took place in Zhang Tian's mind.
'Why didn't you beat him more?' Ah Yin's voice was a low, cold current beneath the surface of his thoughts. 'That imposter. You had him. You could have injured him. Humiliated him more.'
'Patience, Ah Yin,' he projected back, his mental voice a soothing balm. 'The time for that will come. A simple physical defeat is meaningless to someone with his arrogance. Our revenge must be more subtle. More… complete. Trust me. When the time is right, I will make him suffer in ways he cannot even imagine.'
Ah Yin fell silent, her trust in him absolute. She then changed the subject, her voice softening with a hint of hopeful anticipation. 'What about my recovery, Zhang Tian? When can we begin? I long to have a body again. To walk in the sun, to feel the wind… to be with you.'
'I am thinking of it constantly,' he assured her. 'For that, we will need treasures. Herbs of heaven and earth. And to acquire those, I must first grow stronger myself. I need to reach Level 30. I need to acquire my third spirit ring. Only then will I have the power to acquire that treasure. Be patient a little longer, my Empress. Our time will come.'
The victory party was a glorious, indulgent affair. They descended upon Suotuo City like conquering heroes, their first stop being the most exclusive boutiques and jewelry stores the city had to offer.
"Don't worry about the cost!" Ning Rongrong declared, her silver storage pouch containing a black card that had more than million gold coins. "My father gives me a lot of allowance! This is my treat! To celebrate our victory, and to thank you both!"
What followed was a whirlwind of shopping. Ning Rongrong, with her impeccable taste, flitted from shop to shop, picking out exquisite dresses of silk and satin for herself and Zhu Zhuqing. She insisted on buying them matching sets of clothes, from elegant evening gowns to practical, stylish training gear.
"This one would look stunning on you, Zhuqing!" she'd exclaim, holding up a deep crimson dress that would perfectly complement her dark hair and snow white skin.
Zhu Zhuqing, who had likely never spent a single moment of her life on such frivolous pursuits, was at first hesitant, but Ning Rongrong's infectious enthusiasm was impossible to resist. Soon, she found herself tentatively trying on outfits, a small, shy smile appearing on her face as she saw her own reflection, not as a hunted fugitive, but as a beautiful young woman.
They bought delicate, silver hairpins carved in the shape of phoenixes, and necklaces with shimmering, deep blue sapphires that matched Zhang Tian's eyes. Ning Rongrong even insisted on buying Zhang Tian a new set of elegant, dark blue robes, claiming his current ones were "too plain for someone so handsome."
Laden with their new purchases, they descended upon the city's finest restaurant. They were given the best private room, one with a balcony overlooking the bustling night-time city. They ordered with abandon: roasted spirit beast steaks, rare seafood delicacies from the southern coasts, fine wines that tasted of sunshine and summer berries.
They ate and drank, their conversation filled with laughter and easy camaraderie. They were no longer just teammates; they were friends, a small, tight-knit family forged in the crucible of shared struggle and victory.
As the night deepened, they retired to a luxurious suite in the city's grandest hotel, a single, sprawling room with three soft, inviting beds and a large, comfortable sitting area.
The celebration was far from over. Ning Rongrong produced a deck of playing cards, and they settled onto the plush carpet for a series of lighthearted games. The initial games of strategy and skill soon devolved into something far more chaotic.
Losing a round meant a "punishment," which usually involved a bout of merciless tickling. Soon, the room was filled with shrieks of laughter as they chased each other around, the card game completely forgotten.
A full-blown pillow fight erupted, feathers flying through the air like a sudden, soft snowstorm. Ning Rongrong, with a mischievous giggle, teamed up with Zhu Zhuqing, and they launched a coordinated assault on Zhang Tian, who defended himself with practiced ease, laughing as he easily fended off their attacks.
It was during this chaotic, joyful play that Zhu Zhuqing's actions became more subtle, more… deliberate.
As they wrestled for a pillow, she would "accidentally" stumble, her full, soft breasts pressing against his arm. When he managed to pin her down in a playful headlock, she would squirm, her curvaceous hips brushing against his in a way that was just a little too intimate to be entirely accidental. Ning Rongrong, lost in the fun of the game, noticed nothing.
But Zhang Tian noticed everything. He felt the soft pressure of her body, the subtle invitations in her movements. He saw the way her dark eyes would flash with a secret, seductive light when Ning Rongrong wasn't looking. He played along, his own touches lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary, his hand "accidentally" brushing against the curve of her waist or the swell of her hip. It was a silent, thrilling game they were playing, a secret dance of burgeoning desire right under their friend's innocent nose.
Finally, utterly exhausted and breathless with laughter, they called a truce. One by one, they took turns in the luxurious bathroom, washing away the sweat and feathers of their mock battle.
When it was time for bed, Ning Rongrong emerged in a new set of pajamas, a cute, sky-blue ensemble adorned with fluffy white clouds. Her hair was still slightly damp, and with her face scrubbed clean of the day's grime, she looked impossibly young and adorable. Zhang Tian felt a wave of protective affection wash over him.
Zhu Zhuqing emerged last. She wore the new pajamas she had purchased that day. They were made of the finest, sheerest black silk, clinging to her body like a second skin. The top was a simple camisole with thin spaghetti straps, its neckline plunging daringly low, revealing the deep, shadowed valley between her large, perfect breasts. The bottoms were a pair of short, tight-fitting shorts that did little to hide the alluring curve of her buttocks and the long, elegant line of her thighs. She had even put on the long, black silk stockings she usually wears, the material stretching taut over her toned calves. She was a vision of pure, unadulterated sensuality.
Zhang Tian felt his breath catch in his throat. He was a man from a modern world, a man who had seen his share of beautiful women. But he had never seen anyone who embodied such a perfect, lethal combination of innocence and raw, sexual power.
They climbed into the massive bed, a wide, comfortable expanse of soft linens and plush pillows. As they had before, Zhang Tian lay in the middle, Ning Rongrong on his left, and Zhu Zhuqing on his right.
Ning Rongrong, completely spent from the day's excitement, was asleep within minutes, her breathing soft and even.
The room fell silent, the only sound the gentle rustle of the sheets. And then, Zhang Tian felt it. A soft, warm pressure against his side.
Zhu Zhuqing had moved, pressing her body against his, leaving no space between them. He felt the soft swell of her breast against his arm, the curve of her hip against his own. A delicate, black-stocking-clad leg slid over his, her movements slow and deliberate.
She knew he was awake. His breathing had changed, a subtle quickening that betrayed his own racing heart.
A soft, warm hand snaked around his waist, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his athletic torso.
"Thank you," a voice whispered, so soft it was almost a thought in the quiet room. "For today. For everything."
He turned his head slightly, his face just inches from hers in the dim moonlight. "You earned it, Zhuqing," he whispered back.
She moved closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "Beating him… it doesn't solve everything," she confessed, her voice a low, intimate murmur. "I still have to face my sister. His brother. But now… for the first time… it doesn't feel impossible. As long as you are by my side."
She took his hand and guided it, placing it firmly on her slender waist. It was an invitation. A permission.
He was a man, not a saint. The temptation was overwhelming. His hand, as if with a mind of its own, began to move, tracing the breathtaking curve of her hip, his fingers dipping into the small of her back before gliding upwards.
He could feel her shudder at his touch. His hand continued its exploration, moving to her side, his thumb brushing against the underside of her breast. He felt her nipple harden against the silk of her camisole.
He pulled her closer, his other arm wrapping around her, their bodies now flush against each other in a tight, intimate embrace. He could feel the soft, full weight of her breasts pressing into his chest.
She let out a soft, breathy sound, a mixture of a gasp and a moan. "Mmmph…"
She tilted her head, and he felt the soft, wet touch of her lips against his neck, a series of small, exploratory kisses that sent a jolt of pure electricity through him. Her lips moved to his cheek, then to the corner of his mouth.
He turned his head, and their lips met.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, a question asked and answered in the silent language of touch. Then, it deepened. A wave of pent-up desire, of gratitude, of burgeoning love, poured from her into him. He responded in kind, his own attraction, his own protective affection, rising to meet hers.
His hand, which had been resting on her waist, now became more daring. It slid downwards, over the alluring curve of her buttocks, his fingers kneading the soft, firm flesh through the thin silk of her shorts. He pulled her even closer, their lower bodies pressing together, the heat between them an undeniable, palpable thing.
She moaned softly into his mouth, her own hands now busy, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.
His hand slid from her buttocks, moving under the hem of her short silk shorts, his fingers making contact with the warm, impossibly soft skin of her thigh. She gasped at the touch, her body arching against his. His hand moved higher, his fingers tracing the edge of her panties, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.
She broke the kiss, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her dark eyes shining with a desire so intense it was almost frightening.
"More," she whispered, her voice husky, a plea and a command in one. "I want to be closer to you, Zhang Tian. Even closer."
She nibbled at his earlobe, then licked a hot trail down his neck, her actions sending shivers down his spine.
His hand, which had been hesitating, now moved with a new confidence. It slipped past the delicate lace barrier of her panties, his fingers finding the warm, wet heat of her core.
She let out a sharp, stifled gasp, her body going rigid for a second before melting against him completely. She buried her face in his neck, her own moans muffled against his skin, trying desperately not to wake the innocent princess sleeping just a few inches away.
His fingers began a slow, deliberate exploration, and the room was filled with the soft, secret sounds of their moans. It was a cozy, intimate night, a silent promise made under the watchful, silver eye of the moon.
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "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