Three weeks.
The world seemed to hold its breath for three short, tense weeks. And then, the storm broke.
The Continental Advanced Spirit Master Academy Grand Tournament had begun.
Heaven Dou City, already a bustling, vibrant metropolis, was transformed. It became the epicenter of the continent, a pilgrimage site for every aspiring Spirit Master, every powerful noble, every grizzled mercenary, and every curious commoner who wanted a glimpse of the future.
The city was a sea of color and sound. Banners bearing the crests of a hundred different academies fluttered in the breeze. The streets were filled with the arrogant, confident chatter of youthful geniuses, their auras a clashing, vibrant tapestry of power.
The grand plaza before the Heaven Dou Great Spirit Arena was the heart of this new, chaotic world. A massive, newly constructed tournament stage stood in its center, a platform where dreams would be forged, and legends would be born.
In a high, secluded private viewing room, a place of quiet, opulent luxury that offered a perfect, unobstructed view of the stage below, a small, and very dangerous, group had gathered.
Zhang Tian sat on a plush, velvet sofa, a cup of fragrant, steaming tea in his hand, his expression one of calm, placid amusement as he watched the chaotic scene below.
Ning Rongrong was practically bouncing in her seat beside him, her eyes sparkling with an excited, almost predatory, glee. "Look at them all!" she chirped, her voice a happy, musical sound. "It's like every single person in the empire is here! This is going to be so much fun!"
Zhu Zhuqing, seated on his other side, was a study in cool, analytical focus. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd, the different teams, cataloging their spirits, their auras, their strengths, and their weaknesses.
Qian Renxue sat in a comfortable armchair nearby, a picture of elegant, regal grace. But her gaze was not on the stage. It was sweeping through the vast, sea of faces in the stands, a silent, patient huntress searching for a single, elusive ghost.
And sitting beside them was Ah Yin.
The grand, opening ceremony was a blur of pomp and circumstance. The Emperor spoke. The deans of the great academies spoke. And then, the battles began.
A loud, booming voice, imbued with the power of a Spirit Emperor, echoed through the plaza.
"Preselection competition first round, Blue Sunshine Academy versus Purple Star Academy!"
"Preselection competition first round, Auckland Academy versus Blazing Academy!"
And then, a matchup that drew a flicker of genuine interest from the small, powerful group in the private room.
"Preselection competition first round, Second Team of the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy versus Shrek Academy!"
Ning Rongrong leaned closer to Zhang Tian, a mischievous, conspiratorial whisper in her voice. "So, husband, what do you think? Our academy's second-stringers versus that bunch of arrogant devils. Who's your money on?"
It was Zhu Zhuqing who answered, her voice a low, cool, and utterly dismissive sound. "There is no contest," she said, her gaze not even on the two teams that were now walking onto the stage. "The second team is filled with the useless, arrogant sons of minor nobles. They have a bit of talent, yes. But they have no will. No hunger. The Shrek team, for all their… flaws… they are fighters. They are hungry. This will be a slaughter."
Zhang Tian just chuckled, a low, warm sound. "She is right," he agreed. "This match is a foregone conclusion. But it will be an interesting opportunity to observe. To see how much our dear friend Tang San, and his companions, have grown in this past year."
Qian Renxue let out a soft, frustrated sigh. She had scanned the entire audience, every face in the crowd. There was no sign of him. 'He's not here,' she thought, a flicker of disappointment in her violet eyes. 'I was so sure he would come. To watch his precious son. Where are you hiding, Tang Hao?'
Zhang Tian's own gaze was on a different part of the arena. He was looking at the main imperial dais, where the true powers of the world were gathered.
Emperor Xue Ye sat on his golden throne, a picture of weary, regal authority. Beside him, a new, and very interesting, seating arrangement had taken place.
To his right sat Ning Fengzhi, flanked by his two silent, terrifying guardians, the Sword Douluo and the Bone Douluo.
And to his left, in a position of equal honor, sat the two most powerful men of the newly re-emerged Upper Three Sects alliance.
Tang Xiao, the sorrowful, dignified leader of the Clear Sky Sect, sat with a quiet, unshakeable authority. And beside him, his massive frame seeming to make the ornate, gilded chair look like a child's toy, was Yu Yuanzhen, the proud, arrogant leader of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan.
The three great sects, and the empire, all gathered together. It was a picture of perfect, harmonious unity.
And Zhang Tian knew it was a complete and utter lie.
He could feel the tension, the subtle, unspoken currents of rivalry and ambition that crackled between the two factions. He had seen the reports. He knew of the Clear Sky Sect's slow, but steady, re-entry into the world. He knew of their new, aggressive push for contracts, for influence. He knew that the old, fragile balance of power was gone, replaced by a new, far more dangerous, and far more entertaining, game.
On the dais, the game had already begun.
Tang Xiao turned to Ning Fengzhi, a slow, sorrowful, and utterly disingenuous smile on his handsome face.
"Sect Master Ning," he began, his voice a low, powerful sound that carried a subtle, probing edge. "It is good to see you looking so well. In fact… more than well. I must congratulate you. You have led your Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect to a height of power and influence that even your esteemed ancestors could only have dreamed of."
He gestured vaguely to the bustling city around them. "The spirit tools, the miraculous pills… you have truly changed the world. And your own cultivation… to break the curse of your clan, to become a Titled Douluo… it is a feat of legend."
The words were a praise, yes. But they were also a challenge. A demand for an explanation.
Ning Fengzhi just smiled, a calm, graceful, and utterly infuriatingly humble expression on his face.
"Sect Leader Tang is too kind," he said, his voice a smooth, eloquent melody. "I am merely a fortunate man who has been blessed with good luck, and with a few, very talented, and very loyal, young friends. As for the spirit tools, they are a simple, humble attempt to improve the lives of the common people. It is the duty of a great sect, after all, to not just accumulate power, but to use that power for the good of all."
His answer was a masterpiece of political deflection. It was humble, yet it was a subtle, powerful assertion of his sect's new, benevolent authority. He was not just a merchant; he was a benefactor. A provider.
Tang Xiao and Yu Yuanzhen exchanged a look. They could feel the unspoken, steel-hard wall behind his polite, humble words. They gritted their teeth, their own pride, their own ambition, a bitter taste in their mouths. They knew they could not press the issue here, not in front of the Emperor. For now, they could only smile, and watch, and wait.
On the stage below, the battle had begun.
And it was, as Zhu Zhuqing had predicted, a slaughter.
The second team of the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy, seven proud, arrogant young nobles, were a picture of disorganized chaos. They had no strategy, no cohesion. They simply unleashed their most powerful, and most flashy, spirit abilities, a chaotic, beautiful, and utterly ineffective display of fireworks.
The Shrek team, in contrast, was a well-oiled machine of brutal, efficient violence.
Tang San did not even move from his spot. He stood at the back of their formation, his hands behind his back, a calm, commanding presence. He did not need to act. Not against these weaklings.
"Boss Mubai! Brother Tianheng! The vanguard!" his voice was a sharp, clear command that cut through the roar of the crowd.
The two powerful, beast-spirit masters moved as one. They were a twin-headed spear of pure, destructive power.
Dai Mubai's White Tiger Vajra Transformation was a storm of golden-white fury. Yu Tianheng's Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon was a crackling, chaotic tempest of blue-purple lightning.
They crashed into the disorganized ranks of the second team, and the battle was over before it had even truly begun. A White Tiger Intense Light Wave sent two of the nobles flying. A Thunder Dragon Claw paralyzed another two. The remaining three were simply, brutally, and efficiently beaten into submission by a flurry of claws and lightning-wreathed fists.
The entire match had lasted less than a minute.
The crowd stared, a stunned, silent awe on their faces. They had expected a battle. They had witnessed an execution.
As the last, crumpled form of the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy's second team was unceremoniously dragged off the stage, the crowd erupted in a mixture of boos for their home team's pathetic performance and roaring cheers for the brutal, efficient power of Shrek Academy.
Tang San and his teammates walked off the stage, their expressions calm, their victory a simple, foregone conclusion. They had barely broken a sweat.
In their private viewing room, Zhang Tian stood, stretching lazily. "Well," he said, his voice a bored drawl. "That was… educational. It seems our friends have indeed gotten a bit stronger."
Ning Rongrong just let out an unimpressed sniff. "They beat up a bunch of useless nobles. I'm not exactly quaking in my boots."
The group left the opulent viewing box, their presence a stark, beautiful contrast to the sweaty, boisterous crowds of the arena.
Zhang Tian, a handsome, powerful figure, was surrounded by four women of such breathtaking, otherworldly beauty that they seemed to move in a bubble of their own.
Ning Rongrong, a vibrant, beautiful princess. Zhu Zhuqing, a cold, seductive demoness with a body that defied all logic. Qian Renxue, a holy, untouchable goddess. And Ah Yin, who had shed her humble maid's uniform for an elegant, crimson gown that highlighted her magnificent, mature curves, was a devastatingly beautiful Empress.
They moved through the corridors of the arena, and the world seemed to part before them.
The Shrek team was in the main rest area, surrounded by a crowd of adoring fans and curious onlookers. They were the heroes of the hour.
And then, the heroes saw them.
Dai Mubai's breath caught in his throat. His evil eyes, which had been alight with the thrill of victory, were now a raging storm of conflicting emotions. He stared at Zhu Zhuqing, at her perfect, cold face, at the way her magnificent breasts strained against the fabric of her dark top, at the hypnotic sway of her hips as she came to a stop. A raw, possessive fire, a feeling he had not allowed himself to feel in over a year, surged through him.
He wanted her. He wanted to drag her away from this pretty boy, to punish her for her betrayal, to make her scream his name.
He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, his claws itching to be unleashed. But he held himself back. He could feel the two silent, terrifying auras that flanked the group from a distance.
Titled Douluos. He was not a fool.
Ma Hongjun and Oscar were less conflicted. They just stared, their jaws slack, a pathetic, almost comical string of drool forming on their lips as their gazes bounced from one beautiful woman to the next.
Zhang Tian's gaze swept over them, a faint, almost pitying smile on his lips. His eyes finally settled on Tang San.
"Well, well," he began, his voice a low, amused purr. "Look what we have here. I must admit, I am impressed. It seems you have recovered quite well from our last… encounter. And I hear you have even grown a little stronger. The rumors say your pathetic little grass has even changed color. How… quaint."
Tang San's face, which had been a mask of surprised, hostile tension, twisted into a proud, cold sneer. "Are you afraid, Zhang Tian?" he shot back, his voice a blade of pure, unadulterated confidence. "You should be. My Purple Spirit Grass is a true poison spirit. Your pathetic, blood-sucking weed is a joke in comparison."
Zhang Tian just chuckled, a low, warm sound of genuine amusement. He didn't even bother to reply.
It was Dai Mubai who broke the tense silence. He stepped forward, his body a coiled spring of pure, aggressive energy. His gaze was fixed on Zhang Tian, his eyes blazing with a year's worth of pent-up rage and humiliation.
"Zhang Tian," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "I challenge you. In the tournament. My Shrek team, against your Emperor Team."
He took another step forward, his voice rising to a roar. "And when we win, when I have broken you and your pathetic little team, you will give her back to me! You will return Zhu Zhuqing to my side!"
Zhang Tian just looked at him, and his amused expression slowly, beautifully, and terrifyingly transformed into one of pure, unadulterated contempt.
He let out a short, dismissive laugh. "You still don't get it, do you, you trashy little prince?" he said, his voice a low, lazy drawl that was somehow more insulting than any shout. "You still think the world revolves around you. You still think you can just… demand things, as if your title, your pathetic, inherited power, gives you the right to own people."
He shook his head, a look of profound, almost academic, pity on his handsome face. "But," he added, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his lips, "your challenge… it is an interesting one. I will accept your little bet. But we will raise the stakes."
He looked at Dai Mubai, and his blue eyes were as cold and as hard as a winter morning. "If your team wins," he said, his voice a low, final, and non-negotiable command, "if you somehow, by some miracle of the gods, manage to defeat us… then I will take my own life. Right there, on the tournament stage."
The world seemed to stop. The air was sucked from the corridor.
The members of the Shrek team stared, their faces a mask of pure shock. Even Flender and Yu Xiaogang, who had been approaching from a distance, froze in their tracks.
Dai Mubai's own mind reeled. He had expected a refusal, a counter-offer, a taunt. He had not expected this.
But his pride, his rage, would not let him back down.
"You… you mean that?" he stammered, his voice a mixture of shock and a dawning, brilliant hope.
"I do," Zhang Tian confirmed with a nod.
"Then I accept!" Dai Mubai roared, a triumphant, savage grin on his face. "But you must swear it! Swear that you will not go back on your word! Swear that you will not involve your precious Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect!"
Zhang Tian just snorted, a sound of pure, unadulterated contempt. "The possibility of my team losing to a pack of undisciplined mongrels like yours is so infinitesimally small, it is not even worth considering. But a bet requires two sides. You have heard my stake. Now, tell me yours."
He looked at Dai Mubai, and his smile widened, becoming a thing of pure, beautiful, and terrifying cruelty. "If I win," he purred, "what will you offer me in return?"
"My life!" Dai Mubai declared without hesitation. "If we lose, I will take my own life, just as you have sworn to do!"
Zhang Tian just laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that echoed in the silent corridor. "Your life?" he sneered. "What would I want with your worthless, pathetic life? You are nothing to me. A minor annoyance. A stepping stone. To kill you would be a mercy. And I am not a merciful man."
He took a step closer, his gaze dropping, fixing on a point just below Dai Mubai's belt.
"No," he said, his voice a low, silky, and utterly, completely, and soul-shatteringly terrifying whisper. "I want something far more… precious."
He looked up, and his eyes were gleaming with a dark, creative, and beautifully sadistic light. "If I win, I will not kill you. I will let you live. But you will live as a eunuch. I will take that… thing between your legs. I will cut it off. And I will do it with a technique so precise, so profound, that not even the legendary Nine Heart Flowering Apple spirit, not even the gods themselves, will ever be able to grow it back."
Dai Mubai stared at him, his handsome face, which had been a mask of triumphant, savage fury just moments before, now a pale, ashen landscape of pure, unadulterated, and almost comically profound terror. He looked at the calm, smiling, and terrifyingly serious face of the boy before him. And he knew.
He was not joking.
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "Douluo Dalu: Time Travel", "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