Two days.
That was all it took for the legend of the Treasure Silver Civet to go from a shocking arena debut to the single most explosive topic of conversation in every teahouse, tavern, and noble court in Heaven Dou City. The story spread like wildfire, each retelling adding a new layer of mythic hyperbole.
They spoke of a support master whose pagoda had nine floors, a divine artifact that defied the known laws of Martial Spirits.
They spoke of an assassin whose fourth spirit ring was the color of a starless midnight, a ten-thousand-year-old ring that should have been a physical impossibility for a Spirit Ancestor to absorb.
They spoke of a silent, crimson-masked controller whose grass was a living, thinking entity, a battlefield manipulator of terrifying skill.
The city was buzzing, a hive of frantic speculation. Who were these masked monsters? Which hidden clan or reclusive sect had unleashed such a terrifying new generation upon the world?
The pressure on the management of the Great Spirit Arena was immense. It came from all sides, a relentless, crushing wave of inquiry. Messengers from the great noble houses arrived with polite but firm requests. Officials from the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy demanded answers. Even the city's Spirit Hall branch sent their own investigators.
The arena manager, a portly man named Ao Le, held out for a day, citing the sacred anonymity of the arena's fighters. But on the second day, a single, elegant carriage bearing the crest of the Heaven Dou Imperial Family parked outside his office. The message it delivered was not a request. It was a command.
Ao Le, sweating profusely, his professional integrity no match for the weight of an empire, finally broke. He unlocked the secure vault that held the registration records.
The identities were revealed.
And the shockwave that followed was a hundred times more powerful than the one that had shaken the arena.
Ning Rongrong. The beloved, spoiled princess of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect.
Zhu Zhuqing. The third daughter of Duke Zhu of the Star Luo Empire, a political refugee and a known fugitive from her own family.
And Zhang Tian. An orphan. A commoner. The boy who had appeared from nowhere to become the fiancé of the two most talked-about young women on the continent.
The news was not just a story anymore. It was a political earthquake.
In the grand, sunlit halls of the Heaven Dou Imperial Palace, Emperor Xue Ye sat on his throne, his usually weary face a mask of profound, stunned disbelief.
"Nine floors?" he repeated, his voice a low, incredulous murmur. He looked at the minister of information, who was trembling slightly as he stood before the throne. "Are you absolutely certain of this, Minister?"
"The reports are confirmed from over a dozen separate, reliable sources, Your Majesty," the minister replied, his voice shaky. "Multiple high-level Spirit Masters in the audience witnessed it. The Nine Treasure Glaze Tile Pagoda. It has appeared."
Emperor Xue Ye leaned back, his mind reeling with the implications. 'The defect… it's been cured. Ning Fengzhi has broken the curse that has shackled his clan for generations. This changes everything. The Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect is no longer just a wealthy ally. They now have the potential to produce Titled Douluos. Multiple Titled Douluos.'
He then thought of the other piece of information, the one that was even more baffling. "And the other girl… Zhu Zhuqing. A ten-thousand-year-old fourth spirit ring. Is such a thing even possible?"
"Theoretically, no, Your Majesty," the minister admitted. "But the evidence is undeniable. The ring was black. Its power was immense. It is a miracle, an anomaly that defies all known principles of spirit cultivation."
The Emperor fell silent, his fingers drumming a slow, thoughtful rhythm on the arm of his throne. 'Three thirteen-year-old Spirit Ancestors. One with an evolved, legendary spirit. One with an impossible spirit ring configuration. And one, the boy who binds them all together, a mysterious commoner of unknown potential. And they are all tied, inextricably, to Ning Fengzhi.'
A slow, calculating smile spread across his face. "Interesting," he murmured to himself. "Very, very interesting."
In a different, more secluded wing of the sprawling palace, the news was received with a very different kind of excitement.
Qian Renxue, in her perfect, flawless disguise as the Crown Prince Xue Qinghe, had just dismissed the last of her political aides. The moment the heavy, soundproofed doors to her private chambers clicked shut, the calm, princely mask melted away.
She practically skipped across the room, a giddy, excited energy in her movements that was utterly at odds with the dignified, measured grace of the Crown Prince. She threw herself onto her massive, canopied bed, a delighted, almost girlish squeal escaping her lips.
The golden tiara on her head glowed, and the illusion dissolved. The handsome, approachable prince was gone, replaced by a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. She kicked off her boots, her long, perfect legs stretching out on the silk sheets. She wore a simple, white silk under-robe, the fabric clinging to her perfect, statuesque figure.
She grabbed a large, plush pillow and hugged it to her chest, her beautiful face buried in its softness.
"Zhang Tian, Zhang Tian, Zhang Tian," she chanted to herself, her voice a muffled, happy sound. "You are just… full of surprises, aren't you?"
She rolled onto her back, the pillow still clutched in her arms, and stared up at the ornate canopy of her bed, a dreamy, lovesick smile on her perfect lips.
'The Nine Treasure Pagoda… a black fourth ring…' she thought, her mind a whirlwind of excited calculations. 'He did this. I know he did. This is not the work of Ning Fengzhi. This is his doing. The same boy who created those miraculous pills, who saw through my disguise, and even dared to plot against me without any fear.'
Her heart began to beat a little faster. He was not just intelligent. He was not just handsome. He was a creator of miracles. A being who could bend the very rules of the world to his will.
A surge of pure, possessive desire, so intense it was a physical ache, shot through her.
"He must be mine," she said aloud to the empty room, her voice a low, determined purr. "A man like that… he belongs at the side of a peerless talent. My side."
She thought of his two fiancées, of the beautiful, bubbly princess and the cold, seductive cat. A flicker of annoyance, of pure, unadulterated jealousy, crossed her face.
"Those two little girls are not worthy of him," she huffed, kicking her feet petulantly. "They are children. They cannot understand his true potential. They cannot match his ambition. Only I can."
She sat up, her golden hair a shimmering halo around her. Her expression was one of absolute, unwavering conviction. 'I will not share him. He is a prize to be won, not a trinket to be divided. I will have him. All of him.'
A slow, cunning, and incredibly seductive smile spread across her beautiful face. 'And now… now I have the perfect excuse to see him again. This… 'anomaly' requires a personal investigation from the Crown Prince, does it not? Yes. I must summon him to the palace. For a private… debriefing.'
She fell back onto the bed, a delighted, happy giggle escaping her lips as her mind began to spin a thousand different scenarios, a thousand different ways to seduce, to conquer, and to claim the one man in the world who had ever truly, completely, captured her attention.
Far to the east, in a grand, imposing fortress that seemed to be forged from lightning and stone, the news was received with a far grimmer, and far more serious, reaction.
Yu Yuanzhen, the clan leader of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, sat on his throne of carved black iron, his face a mask of stone. Before him stood his younger brother, Yu Luomian, his own expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"Nine floors?" Yu Yuanzhen's voice was a low, dangerous rumble, like distant thunder. "Are you certain of this, Luomian?"
"The reports are confirmed, brother," Yu Luomian replied, his voice tight. "Our agents in Heaven Dou City have all sent the same message. The defect of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Pagoda has been cured. Ning Fengzhi's daughter… she possesses the Nine Treasure Pagoda."
Yu Yuanzhen was silent for a long, heavy moment. "This changes the balance of power," he said finally, his voice a low, grim statement of fact. "For generations, our three great sects have been in a state of equilibrium. The Clear Sky Sect had the greatest attack power. Our Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan had the most domineering spirit. And the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect had the greatest wealth and support capabilities. But their inability to produce Titled Douluos was their fatal flaw. A flaw that has now been… erased."
He looked at his brother, his eyes burning with a new, intense light. "And the other girl? The one with the black ring?"
"A member of the Zhu family of the Star Luo Empire," Yu Luomian confirmed. "And yes, the reports are consistent. A ten-thousand-year-old fourth spirit ring. No one knows how it is possible."
"A secret," Yu Yuanzhen rumbled. "Ning Fengzhi has found a secret. A method to break the natural limits of cultivation. A method that allowed him to cure his clan's defect, and to allow a thirteen-year-old girl to absorb a ten-thousand-year-old ring."
He stood up, his massive frame seeming to fill the entire hall. "We must have this secret," he declared, his voice a clap of thunder. "Send a message to Ning Fengzhi. A formal invitation. I wish to congratulate him on his daughter's engagement. And to discuss… matters of mutual interest."
The news rippled outwards, a stone dropped into a still pond, sending waves of shock and envy through every corner of the continent.
In the five great elemental academies of Element City, the deans gathered in hushed, urgent meetings.
"A battle support master who can fight on the front lines? Preposterous!" the dean of the Divine Wind Academy scoffed, though his eyes held a flicker of deep, professional jealousy.
"And a black fourth ring…" the dean of the Heavenly Water Academy murmured, her expression one of pure, academic disbelief. "The physical strain… the soul shock… it should have been impossible."
In the Blazing Academy, the dean, a man whose temper was as fiery as his students' spirits, slammed his fist on the table. "Find them!" he roared. "I don't care what it takes! I want to know how they did it!"
And in the quiet, verdant halls of the Plant Academy, a beautiful, azure-haired woman named Mu Qingzhu listened to the reports from her teachers, a strange, thoughtful light in her eyes. 'A plant-type spirit user,' she thought, her hand unconsciously touching the spot on her leg where her own ten-thousand-year-old spirit bone resided. 'A crimson grass that can control an entire battlefield. Interesting. Very, very interesting.'
Finally, the news reached its intended, and most dreaded, destination.
In the grand, imposing branch of the Spirit Hall in Heaven Dou City, Bishop Salas sat behind his large, ornate desk, his face pale, his hands trembling slightly as he read the encrypted report from his agents in the Great Spirit Arena.
"Impossible…" he whispered to the empty room. "This cannot be."
He read the report again, and then a third time. The facts were undeniable. The Nine Treasure Pagoda. The black fourth ring. The mysterious, powerful boy who led them.
He felt a cold, icy dread seep into his bones. This was not just a matter of a few talented children. This was a strategic threat of the highest order. A threat to the Spirit Hall's absolute, unquestionable dominance.
He immediately began to draft his own report, his quill scratching furiously across the parchment. He detailed every fact, every rumor, every wild speculation. He encrypted the message with the highest-level cipher, a code known only to the highest echelates of the Pope's Palace.
He sealed the message in a special, spirit-powered transmission tube and handed it to his most trusted subordinate.
"Send this to Spirit City," he commanded, his voice a low, urgent hiss. "Directly to the Pope's Palace. It is for the eyes of Her Holiness, Bibi Dong, and her alone."
The ripple had become a tidal wave, and it was now heading straight for the heart of the most powerful organization in the world.
~~
In the stark, functional office of the new Shrek Academy, a heavy, oppressive silence reigned. Yu Xiaogang sat behind his simple wooden desk, his face a mask of stone, but his eyes, hidden behind the thick lenses of his spectacles, were a swirling vortex of professional jealousy and a deep, festering frustration.
Before him lay the detailed report from the Great Spirit Arena. He had read it a dozen times, and each reading was like a fresh, sharp slap to his face.
'Level 42… Level 43… Level 46…' The numbers mocked him, a testament to a rate of progress that defied every theory he had ever written, every principle he held sacred.
He looked at the other side of the report, the summary of his own students' progress over the past three months. Tang San, his prized disciple, had reached Level 35. Xiao Wu was at Level 33. They were geniuses, both of them possessing Full Innate Spirit Power. Their progress was, by any normal standard, breathtaking.
But it was nothing.
'At this rate,' his mind calculated with a cold, brutal precision, 'it will take Little San at least another year and a half, perhaps even two full years, to reach the fortieth rank. By then, he will be fifteen years old.'
He thought of Zhang Tian and his two fiancées. 'And them? At the pace they are demonstrating, by the time Little San becomes a Spirit Ancestor, they will be nearing the threshold of the Spirit King realm. Perhaps they will have already crossed it.'
The thought was a physical pain, a dagger of pure, unadulterated failure twisted in his gut. His theories, his meticulous training regimens, his entire life's work… it was all being rendered a pathetic, childish joke by the impossible, inexplicable success of a boy he had once dismissed as a reckless anomaly.
He thought of his disciple. He knew the depth of the hatred that now festered in Tang San's heart. It was a cold, hard thing, a burning desire for vengeance that fueled his every training session. But hatred, Yu Xiaogang knew, was not enough. Not against an opponent who could seemingly rewrite the very rules of cultivation.
'I must have it,' the thought was a low, desperate hiss in the silence of his mind. 'That secret. The method behind their spirit evolution, their impossible spirit ring absorption, their monstrous cultivation speed. I must acquire it. For Little San. For his future. For his revenge.'
And, though he would never admit it, even to himself, he knew the truest reason.
'For me,' his pride screamed. 'I must have it to prove that I am still the wisest. That my theories are not a lie.'
He sat there for a long, silent hour, his mind a cold, calculating chessboard, exploring every possible avenue, every potential strategy. Finally, a plan, a desperate, distasteful, but necessary plan, began to form.
He knew, from the reports and from his own observations, that Zhang Tian had a weakness. A glaring, obvious weakness.
Women.
He had taken two beautiful, talented girls as his fiancées. He was young, powerful, and virile. It was a classic, timeless vulnerability.
He stood up and walked to the door of his office. He opened it and spoke to one of the waiting students. "Find Vice-Dean Liu. Tell her I wish to speak with her. It is a matter of some urgency."
Liu Erlong arrived a few minutes later. She entered his office, and the entire atmosphere of the room seemed to shift. The cold, sterile air was suddenly charged with a fierce, vibrant energy. She wore a simple set of practical training clothes, but even they could not conceal the powerful, mature beauty of her form.
The moment she saw him, her usual sharp, aggressive demeanor melted away, replaced by a soft, gentle warmth that was reserved for him, and him alone.
"Xiao Gang," she said, her voice a soft, happy murmur. "You sent for me? Is something wrong?"
He did not ask her to sit. He did not waste time with pleasantries. He simply turned to face her, his expression a mask of grim, serious resolve.
"Erlong," he began, his voice a flat, clinical monotone, "I need you to do something for me. For the academy. For… Little San."
She looked at him, her heart giving a small, happy leap. This was it. The first real thing he had asked of her since their reunion. The first time he had truly needed her. "Of course, Xiao Gang," she said, her voice filled with an eager, unwavering devotion. "Anything. Just tell me what it is."
He began to lay out his plan, his words cold, precise, and utterly, completely, soul-crushingly pragmatic. He told her of Zhang Tian, of his monstrous talent, of the secrets he possessed.
And then, he told her of his weakness.
"He has a fondness for beautiful women," Yu Xiaogang stated, his voice devoid of all emotion. "It is his most exploitable flaw."
He looked at her then, at her beautiful, fierce face, at the powerful, mature curves of her body. "You, Erlong, are a very beautiful woman. And you are a Spirit Saint. A powerful, independent expert. You fit the profile perfectly."
A cold, sick feeling began to coil in the pit of Liu Erlong's stomach. "Xiao Gang… what are you asking me to do?"
"I need you to approach him," he said, his voice a low, strategic murmur. "But not as yourself. Not as the Vice-Dean of Shrek Academy. That would be too suspicious. You will go to him as a solo mercenary. A powerful, ambitious woman who has heard the rumors of his miraculous methods and is desperate to grow stronger."
He saw the dawning horror in her eyes, but he did not stop. He pressed on, his voice a relentless, logical scalpel.
"You will use your beauty. Your charm. You will get close to him. Gain his trust. And you will find out his secrets. All of them."
He paused, and then he delivered the final, devastating blow.
"And if necessary," he said, his gaze unwavering, "you will use your body. You will seduce him. You will do whatever it takes to get that information."
The silence that followed was a profound, deafening thing.
Liu Erlong just stared at him, her face pale, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a deep, profound, and utterly soul-shattering disappointment.
"You… you want me to…" she stammered, her voice a choked, broken whisper. "You want me to whore myself out? For your student? For your… your precious theories?"
A wave of pure, unadulterated rage, so intense it made her tremble, washed over her. "I have waited for you for twenty years, Xiao Gang!" she shrieked, her voice a raw, wounded sound. "Twenty years! I have lived like a nun, waiting for you to come back to me! And this… this is the first thing you ask of me?! To go and seduce another man? A boy young enough to be my son?!"
He did not flinch. He did not show a flicker of remorse. He just stood there, a silent, unmoving statue of cold, hard logic.
He saw the pain in her eyes, the raw, bleeding wound he had just inflicted upon her soul. And for a moment, a flicker of something, a hint of his own pain, of his own self-loathing, broke through his iron composure.
"Erlong…" he began, his voice a low, strained sound. He took a step towards her, his hand reaching out as if to comfort her, but he stopped himself. "You must understand. This is… this is more than just about Little San. It is about… everything."
He looked at her, and for the first time in twenty years, she saw a crack in his armor. She saw the deep, festering wound of his own pride, his own failure.
"They called me a fraud," he said, his voice a low, bitter murmur. "A failure. A man with a trash spirit who spouted useless theories. For decades, I have endured their scorn, their ridicule. Little San… he is my proof. He is my vindication. If he succeeds, if he becomes the legend I know he can be, then my life's work… it will not have been in vain. My name will be cleared."
He looked at her, and his eyes were filled with a desperate, pleading light that she had never seen before.
"Please, Erlong," he said, his voice a low, broken sound. "If you do this for me… if you help me achieve this… I… I will try. I will try to go past the world's views. I will try… to accept you."
The words were a key, unlocking the last, deepest chamber of her heart. It was the promise she had been waiting for her entire life. A chance. A small, fragile, and possibly illusory chance, but a chance nonetheless.
The rage, the disappointment, the humiliation… it all just melted away, replaced by a single, all-consuming thought.
'For him,' she thought, her heart a painful, hopeful ache in her chest. 'For his dream. For our future.'
She looked at him, at the broken, desperate man she loved more than life itself, and her decision was made.
"I… I will do it," she whispered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.
She turned and walked out of the office, her posture proud, her spirit broken. She had a new, distasteful mission to prepare for.
In the deep, silent woods that bordered the new Shrek Academy, a solitary figure sat in the shadows, his presence as still and as heavy as a forgotten tombstone.
Tang Hao had heard the rumors. They had filtered out from the city, carried on the wind, whispered by the passing merchants and travelers. He had heard of the Treasure Silver Civet, of their monstrous, impossible power.
His first, primal instinct was a surge of pure, murderous rage. He wanted to go to this estate, this hidden sanctuary, and he wanted to kill them all. He wanted to tear Zhang Tian limb from limb. He wanted to make those two little girls who stood by his side pay for their loyalty with their screams.
But his rage was now tempered by a cold, hard pragmatism.
'Their power is not natural,' he thought, his mind a cold, calculating machine. 'The Nine Treasure Pagoda. A black fourth ring. A thirteen-year-old Spirit Ancestor. It is a miracle. A secret. A secret of immense, world-shaking value.'
He thought of his own son, of his peerless talent, of his unbreakable will. 'If my son possessed such a secret… he would be unstoppable. His path to revenge, our path to revenge, would be a swift and certain one.'
He settled back into the shadows, his expression a mask of stone. His vigil would continue. But his objective had changed.
He would not kill Zhang Tian. Not yet.
First, he would find a way to capture him. He would pry the secrets of his power from his lips. And then, and only then, would he grant him the slow, agonizing death he so richly deserved.
The invitations arrived a few days later.
The various factions, unable to locate the trio's hidden estate, had all sent their missives to the one place they knew the Treasure Silver Civet frequented: the Great Spirit Arena. The manager, a man who was now living in a state of perpetual, low-grade terror, had immediately forwarded the entire, towering stack of scrolls and letters to the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect.
Ning Fengzhi had them delivered to Zhang Tian's estate that very evening.
The three of them sat in their comfortable living room, a small mountain of elegant, sealed scrolls on the table before them.
"Wow," Ning Rongrong said, her eyes wide as she looked at the pile. "It seems we've become quite popular."
They began to open them, one by one. There were invitations from a dozen different noble families, all offering alliances, partnerships, and, in a few cases, their own beautiful, talented daughters.
There was a formal summons from the Heaven Dou Imperial Family, a request for a private audience with Emperor Xue Ye himself.
There were official letters from the deans of the five great elemental academies, all expressing a deep, academic interest in their "unique talents" and offering them positions as honorary visiting scholars.
There was a surprisingly direct, almost blunt, invitation from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, requesting a meeting to discuss "matters of mutual, strategic importance."
Zhang Tian read through them all with a calm, almost bored, expression. It was all as he had expected.
And then, he found it.
It was a simple, unadorned scroll, sealed with a plain, black wax seal. It was different from the others. It was not from a clan, or an academy, or a noble house.
He opened it. The script inside was bold, aggressive, and undeniably feminine.
It was a simple, direct request for a meeting. The author identified herself only as Liu Erlong, a solo mercenary and a Spirit Saint, who had heard of his miraculous abilities and wished to discuss a potential… partnership.
Zhang Tian stared at the name, and a slow, cold, and incredibly amused smile spread across his face.
'Liu Erlong,' he thought, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with a satisfying, final thump. 'A solo mercenary? A Spirit Saint with no affiliation? Unlikely.'
He thought of the new Shrek Academy, of the Golden Iron Triangle, of the desperate, prideful man who was its new, self-proclaimed leader.
'This has Yu Xiaogang's fingerprints all over it,' he mused, a dark, predatory light in his eyes. 'He's trying to send his lover to acquire the secrets out of me. How pathetic. How… predictable.'
He then considered another possibility, a more charitable, and perhaps more likely, one.
'Or perhaps… she is acting on her own. She is not a fool. She knows of Yu Xiaogang's defective Luo Sanpao spirit. She must be desperate to find a cure for him. The rumors of Rongrong's spirit evolution… it must have given her hope.'
He leaned back against the sofa, a low, amused chuckle escaping his lips.
'Either way,' he thought, his gaze turning cold and hard, 'it does not matter. I was not planning on dealing with her, or with the rest of the Shrek contingent, so soon. But if she is going to deliver herself to my doorstep, a beautiful, powerful, and emotionally vulnerable Spirit Saint…'
He looked at the letter again, and his smile widened.
"I certainly won't complain."
~~
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