The flight back from the Heavenly Star Mountain Range was a silent, grim affair. The three most powerful figures of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect moved through the sky like ghosts of vengeance, the usual light, easy banter between them completely absent. The wind whipped at their robes, a cold, mournful sound that mirrored the icy knot of fury in Ning Fengzhi's heart.
They landed in the central courtyard of their sect, a place of serene, elegant beauty that felt jarringly out of place with the dark, bloody business they had just left behind.
"Fengzhi," Gu Rong, the Bone Douluo, began, his hoarse voice a low, somber sound. "What are your orders? Shall I dispatch a team of our best trackers? We can scour every inch of that mountain range. If there is a body to be found…"
Ning Fengzhi held up a hand, his movement sharp, decisive. "There is no body, Uncle Gu," he said, his voice a low, cold sound that was devoid of its usual warmth.
He turned to face his two uncles, the two men who had been the pillars of his clan for his entire life. And for the first time, they saw a look in his eyes that was not one of a calm, benevolent leader, but of a cold, ruthless king.
"Gu Chen is not dead," he stated, his voice a blade of pure, irrefutable certainty. "He was captured."
Chen Xin, the Sword Douluo, who had been a silent, imposing presence throughout their entire journey, finally spoke. His single word was a quiet, sharp, and incredibly dangerous sound. "Who?"
Ning Fengzhi's gaze, which had been fixed on the distant, hazy mountains, now settled on his two guardians. "Who else could it be?" he asked, his voice a low, bitter sound. "Who else in this world has the power, and the audacity, to move against us? To send a force of Titled Douluos to ambush one of my elders?"
He began to pace the courtyard, his movements a slow, deliberate circle, a predator mapping out his territory. "The Spirit Hall is a possibility, of course. They have the power. But they lack the motive. Our alliance with them, with Qian Renxue's faction, is a stable one. We are sharing our technology with them, allowing them to study our spirit tools. To attack us now would be to shatter that alliance, to lose access to a resource they desperately desire. No. It was not them."
He stopped pacing and looked at his two uncles, his eyes shining with a cold, hard, and deeply analytical light. "Which leaves only two other possibilities. Two old, proud, and increasingly desperate rivals who have recently found a new, and very dangerous, sense of unity."
"The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan," Chen Xin said, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
"And the Clear Sky Sect," Gu Rong added, his own voice a grim, somber sound.
Ning Fengzhi nodded. "Exactly." He began to pace again, his mind a whirlwind of cold, sharp calculations. "The timing is too perfect. The monster tide, so sudden, so convenient. It was a feint. A distraction. They created a crisis that they knew we would have to respond to. And they knew we would send Gu Chen. He was our only available expert in the north. They laid a trap for him. And he walked right into it."
He looked at his two uncles, his expression one of pure, unadulterated, and almost clinical fury. "And I know why they took him. It is not for ransom. It is not for a political statement. It is for information. For our secrets."
He thought of the two things that had elevated his sect from a wealthy, powerful clan to a true, world-shaking superpower. The two things that were the source of his new, unassailable confidence.
"The pills," he said, his voice a low, venomous hiss. "And the spirit tools. They want them. They want to know how we make them. They think that by torturing one of my elders, they can simply… take what is ours."
He stopped pacing and looked up at the sky, a slow, cold, and incredibly predatory smile spreading across his handsome face. "Well," he said, his voice a low, promising murmur, "if they want our secrets so badly, then we shall give them what they desire. And it will be the last thing they ever wish for."
The plan that Ning Fengzhi laid out in the days that followed was not one of a rash, emotional retaliation. It was a masterpiece of cold, calculated, and beautifully, terrifyingly patient revenge.
He did not send his Titled Douluos to the fortress of the Blue Lightning Clan. He did not issue a public denouncement. He did… nothing.
He let the world believe the lie. He held a grand, somber funeral for the "fallen" Elder Gu Chen. He accepted the condolences of the other great clans, of the Imperial Family, his face a mask of profound, regal grief.
And in secret, he began to build his trap.
He summoned the master alchemists of the Breaking Clan, the old, grizzled men whose knowledge of herbs and poisons was second to none. He did not ask them for their most potent, life-giving elixirs. He asked them for their most brilliant, most insidious, and most beautifully, terrifyingly destructive creations.
They worked in the deepest, most secret vaults of the sect, their hands moving with a feverish, creative energy. They crafted fake recipes. Recipes that, on the surface, looked like the formulas for the miraculous Spirit Ascension Pills, for the world-shaking Heavenly Water Pills.
But they were poison.
A single, misplaced ingredient, a slight, almost imperceptible variation in the heating process, and the resulting concoction would not be a life-giving elixir. It would be a cloud of colorless, odorless, and instantly lethal neurotoxin.
At the same time, Ning Fengzhi summoned his own, new, and most secret asset. The small, elite team of craftsmen and engineers who had been personally trained by Zhang Tian himself. The men who held the true secrets of his new, technological world.
He did not ask them for their most brilliant, most world-shaking creations. He asked them for their most beautiful, most elegant, and most wonderfully, terrifyingly flawed designs.
They created blueprints for spirit tools that, on paper, looked like masterpieces of engineering. A new, more powerful version of the Pager. A smaller, more efficient mechanical carriage.
But they were bombs.
A single, microscopic flaw in the etched circuit array, a slight, almost imperceptible imbalance in the flow of spirit power, and the device would not just malfunction. It would detonate. Violently.
With the bait prepared, Ning Fengzhi then began to construct the trap itself.
He made a grand, public spectacle of purchasing a massive, and ridiculously overpriced, plot of land on the eastern edge of Heaven Dou City. The rumors spread through the city like wildfire. The Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect was expanding. They were building a new, massive production facility.
The spies of the Blue Lightning and the Clear Sky sects watched, their reports flying back to their masters with a new, urgent excitement.
Within a week, a series of large, imposing buildings had been erected on the new plot of land. They were built with a speed that was a testament to the sect's immense wealth and resources. And then, the convoys began to arrive.
Heavily guarded carriages, bearing the crest of the Breaking Clan, were seen entering the new facility at all hours of the day and night. The air around the compound began to fill with the faint, aromatic scent of rare, exotic herbs.
It was a perfect, beautiful, and utterly irresistible piece of cheese in a very, very large mousetrap.
Ning Fengzhi just sat in his study, and he watched. And he waited. He knew they would come. Their greed, their pride, their desperation… it was a predictable, and very exploitable, variable.
While the secret, silent war between the great sects was beginning to smolder, the bright, public spectacle of the Continental Tournament continued to burn.
Zhang Tian and his three beautiful companions had become regular fixtures in their private viewing room, their presence a source of constant, whispered speculation among the other powerful factions.
They watched as the preliminary rounds unfolded, a blur of youthful ambition and brutal, efficient combat. And they watched as a new, and very interesting, star began to rise.
Her name was Mu Qingzhu. She was the captain of the Plant Academy, a small, unassuming team that had, until now, never been considered a true contender.
But Mu Qingzhu was different.
Zhang Tian watched her fight, and a flicker of genuine, if slightly clinical, interest entered his eyes.
Her spirit was the Azure Blood Vine. A strange, beautiful, and terrifyingly powerful mutation of the common Sky Azure Vine. Her vines were not green. They were a deep, vibrant azure, and a network of fine, blood-red veins pulsed with a faint, hungry light.
And her fifth spirit ring… it was black.
He saw her use its ability in a match against a powerful, defensive-minded team from the Elephant Armored Academy. Her opponents had formed a perfect, impenetrable shield wall, their massive, elephant-like spirits a fortress of pure, unadulterated durability.
Mu Qingzhu had just smiled. She had raised a hand, and her Azure Blood Vines had shot out. They did not try to break the shield. They latched onto it.
And then, they began to feed.
The azure vines pulsed with a brilliant, blood-red light. And the powerful, defensive auras of the Elephant Armored disciples began to flicker, to dim, to die. She was not just blocking their power. She was eating it.
The match had ended a few moments later, with the five powerful, defensive geniuses lying on the ground, their spirit power completely, utterly drained.
'A devouring ability,' Zhang Tian had thought, a slow, knowing smile on his face. 'And a spirit bone that allows for the instant creation of a defensive construct. So these are the abilities that she gained from that sentient Blood Silver Grass.'
He knew, with a certainty that was as absolute as the sun in the sky, where she had gotten that power. He could feel the faint, almost imperceptible echo of his own Blood Silver Emperor's power in her spirit.
But his true focus, his true entertainment, was on another, far more personal, and far more satisfying, rivalry.
The day had come. The Shrek Academy was scheduled to fight against the Blazing Academy.
Zhang Tian sat in his private viewing room, a cup of fragrant, steaming tea in his hand, a look of pure anticipation on his handsome face.
He had been looking forward to this.
'This,' he thought, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his lips as he watched the two teams walk onto the stage, 'is going to be very, very entertaining.'
He looked at the Blazing Academy. Seven proud, arrogant young geniuses, their bodies wreathed in a faint, shimmering aura of pure, fiery power. Their captain, a boy named Huo Wushuang, was a Level 43 Spirit Ancestor, his One Horned Fire Dragon spirit is quite powerful.
And then, he looked at the Shrek team. He looked at Tang San.
'In the original story,' his mind, a cold, beautiful archive of a future that no longer existed, recounted, 'this was the match where he truly began to shine. This was the match where his Ice and Fire Refined Body, his immunity to both extreme elements, was revealed to the world. It was the key to their victory.'
He took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea.
'But in this world,' he thought, a cruel, beautiful, and utterly, completely, and joyously evil smile on his face, 'Tang San doesn't have that Ice and Fire Refined Body. There is no immunity. There is just a spirit master with a mutated poison-grass spirit. A spirit that is not just not immune to fire, but is hilariously weak against it.'
He leaned back in his comfortable, velvet chair, a look of pure, blissful contentment on his face.
The show was about to begin. And he had the best seat in the house.
The roar of the crowd was a physical, tangible thing, a wave of pure, chaotic energy that washed over the tournament stage. For the Shrek team, who had spent the past two weeks steamrolling through the lesser academies, this was a familiar, and welcome, sound. But today, the atmosphere was different. There was a new, palpable tension in the air, a sense of a true, and very dangerous, challenge.
Their opponents were the Blazing Academy.
Seven figures, clad in the brilliant, fiery gold of their academy, stood on the opposite side of the stage. They were a wall of pure, aggressive power, their bodies wreathed in a faint, shimmering aura of heat that made the very air around them seem to warp.
At their head stood Huo Wushuang, their captain. He was a tall, powerfully built young man, his handsome face a mask of calm, confident authority. His spirit, the One-Horned Fire Dragon, was a beast of pure, explosive power, and he was known throughout the tournament as one of the most powerful frontal attackers of his generation.
But it was not him that drew Tang San's eye.
His gaze settled on the girl who stood in the center of their formation, a position of both protection and command. She was tall, her body a masterpiece of well-shaped, powerful curves that were highlighted by the tight, golden uniform. Her long, crimson hair cascaded down her back, a river of pure, liquid fire. A faint, red light seemed to pulse around her, a sign of a spirit power that was both immense and perfectly controlled.
This was Huo Wu. The soul of their team. A Level 43 control-type Spirit Master, just like him. And her spirit, the Fire Shadow, was a thing of myth, a rare, powerful beast spirit that allowed her to create a perfect, fire-based avatar of herself.
Tang San's mind, a cold, analytical machine, began to work. He knew, with a certainty that was as absolute as the sun in the sky, that this would not be an easy fight. The Grandmaster had, as was his new, frustrating habit, given them only the most basic information about their opponents. He had told them their names, their spirits, their ranks. But he had not told them of their techniques, of their strategies, of their teamwork.
'He wants to test me,' Tang San thought, a flicker of something, a hint of a deep, professional respect, in his cold eyes. 'He wants to see if I can adapt. If I can lead.'
He would not fail.
The referee, a stern-faced Spirit Emperor from the Spirit Hall, walked to the center of the stage. "Both sides, salute."
The fourteen young geniuses lined up, a silent, tense wall of youthful power and ambition. They bowed to each other, a gesture of formal, and utterly insincere, respect.
Dai Mubai's evil eyes met the calm, confident gaze of Huo Wushuang. The air between them seemed to crackle with an unspoken, and very personal, challenge.
Tang San's own gaze found Huo Wu's. She just smiled at him, a cool, confident expression that was both beautiful and deeply unsettling.
It was Huo Wushuang who broke the silence, his voice a low, rumbling sound that carried a surprising, almost gentle, weight. "I have heard of your Shrek Academy," he said, his gaze fixed on Dai Mubai. "You are strong. But today, your winning streak ends."
Dai Mubai just let out a short, arrogant snort. "That's what I was about to say to you," he shot back, his voice dripping with a lazy, condescending contempt. "Enjoy your perfect record while it lasts. Because in a few minutes, it will be a thing of the past."
Huo Wushuang's calm expression did not change. His gaze simply shifted, moving past Dai Mubai, and settling on Tang San. A flicker of something, a hint of a genuine, almost pitying, concern entered his eyes.
"It is a pity," he said, his voice a soft, almost regretful sound. "Your team is powerful. But your core, your control system Spirit Master… he is a plant type. And we… we are all fire."
He looked at Tang San, and his words were not a taunt, but a simple, logical, and almost kind, piece of advice. "I would advise you to forfeit this match. It would be better to conserve your strength for your next opponent. There is no shame in admitting a tactical disadvantage."
Dai Mubai's face, which had been a mask of arrogant, confident pride, twisted into a sneer. He opened his mouth to deliver a new, more venomous retort. But the words died in his throat.
Because he knew, on some deep, logical, and incredibly, frustratingly honest level, that the man was right.
He had seen it in the Grandmaster's eyes. He had heard it in the quiet, worried whispers of his teammates. He knew that a plant-type spirit, even one as strange and as powerful as Tang San's new Purple Spirit Grass, was at a fundamental, and perhaps insurmountable, disadvantage against a team of seven, pure-fire-attribute Spirit Masters.
His own, fierce, unyielding pride would never allow him to admit it. But in the deepest, most secret corner of his heart, for the first time in a very, very long time, Dai Mubai, the Evil Eye White Tiger, was not entirely certain that they could win.
~~
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