"Tomorrow, you depart for Mingdu. Rest today—ensure your body, mind, and spirit peak."
"Also, Xiao Tian, Junting—stay behind."
Since the next matter wasn't for the whole team, Ning Bowen tactfully dismissed the others.
Once the grand hall's doors closed, he smiled warmly at the two.
"I've kept you to decide something: You'll be captain and vice-captain. Whoever chooses captain, the other becomes vice."
Instantly—
"Let Xiao Tian be captain."
"Give it to Brother Junting."
They exchanged a look—both had foreseen the other's response.
"Ah? State your reasons," Ning Bowen prompted, intrigued.
"I'll go first," Ning Tian stepped forward. "I'm only a Soul Emperor—third strongest on the team. If I'm made captain, rival sects might mock us, tarnishing the sect's name."
"Logical," Ning Bowen nodded—then turned expectantly to Chen Junting.
Chen Junting offered no elaborate argument—just a crisp reply:
"When the sect competes, how can the captain not wield our ancestral martial soul?"
Unlike academies, sects upheld their legacy martial soul as sacred. A captain without it would invite hidden consequences. True—strength mattered, but sect dignity mattered more.
Besides—was lower cultivation a flaw?
A captain of modest rank commanding two Soul Saints proved another kind of power. After all, Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's very foundation was built on this: auxiliary martial souls—weak alone—leveraged to unite powerhouses and amass wealth, becoming the continent's wealthiest sect.
Thus, captaincy needn't hinge on cultivation alone.
"Well said!" Ning Bowen beamed—Chen Junting's answer resonated deeply. It affirmed their core identity, a "political correctness" that transcended mere strength.
The decision was clear: Ning Tian as captain, Chen Junting as vice-captain.
After finalizing this, Ning Bowen dismissed them—but added one last task:
Select one disciple under 20 with the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda martial soul to complete the 14-member team.
The moment they left the hall, the relaxed mood vanished.
Not long ago, during Ye Xuanji's visit to Shrek Academy to mourn Mu En, Shrek, Body Sect, Star Luo Empire, and Tianhun Empire had secretly approached him. All sought Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's alliance in assassinating Xu Tianran.
Each faction's leader—even aside from Shrek—had sent personal letters, delivered by Ye Xuanji to Sect Master Ning Bowen.
Their plan: Strike during the tournament, eliminating the Sun Moon Crown Prince before he ascended.
With the Emperor dying, Xu Tianran—allying with the Holy Spirit Cult—would inherit the throne. His ambition to ignite war was clear. Killing him would delay conflict, buying precious time.
"Sect Master—should we join?" Elder Zhi Yong asked, watching Ning Bowen's contemplation.
With Long Xiaoyao and Ye Xishui gravely wounded, this was a golden chance.
"Our strength is insufficient," Ning Bowen sighed, opening his eyes.
Xu Tianran would have Limit Douluo guardians. With Ye Xuanji locked in breakthrough, they lacked a Level 98+ Title Douluo to face such foes. Sending anyone weaker would be suicide.
After long deliberation, he decided:
"Tell Shrek: We'll cooperate—but only if Long Xiaoyao and Ye Xishui intervene. Chen Junting previously failed to eliminate them with Di Tian's aid. If they reappear, Di Tian will honor his promise."
He added, "If it's not them… leave the call to Junting."
"Understood," Zhi Yong bowed.
…
Next Morning
As dawn's mist cleared and sunlight gilded the earth, a group stood ready outside Nine Treasures City.
This Mingdu journey was perilous. Only the 14 tournament members and Ji Juechen—seeking rival geniuses—would go.
Jing Ziyang had wanted to join but was tied to mecha/Doubt Armor research, forcing her to stay.
With Zhi Yong's arrival, the 16-person team was complete.
(Unseen guardians likely trailed them—known only to Zhi Yong—to ensure safety in Mingdu.)
"How are we getting to Mingdu?" Wu Feng scanned for carriages—finding none. With the tournament looming, horse-drawn travel would be too slow.
"Use flying soul guidance devices?" Huo Yuhao suggested, pulling out twenty as backup.
"No need." Chen Junting smiled, stopping him.
He glanced at the stoic Zhi Yong, then skyward—where a black speck grew rapidly: a Titan Griffon.
(Note: "Titan" here denoted size, not lineage—this beast bore no relation to Tai Tan the Titan Giant Ape.)
Titan Griffons, though lacking divine blood, were the largest flying soul beasts after dragons. This one—70,000 years old—had been "borrowed" from Di Tian at Star Dou Forest.
Its prowess?
—10-year-olds flew at 1,000m
—100-year-olds at 2,000m
—1,000-year-olds at 3,000m
—10,000-year-olds at 4,000m
Every additional 10,000 years added hundreds of meters—100,000-year-olds soared at 10,000m!
(Though such elders were exceedingly rare.)
Chen Junting sought it precisely for this: post-tournament escape. At 8,000m, they'd evade Sun Moon's high-altitude detection soul guidance devices—and pursuit.
As long as no Limit Douluos intervened… they'd avoid being dragged to that accursed Qiankun Love-Querying Valley.
Squawk—!
Sensing Di Tian's aura (from Chen Junting's reverse scale), the griffon's defiant glare turned docile.
Wings beating, it landed gently amid swirling dust.
"Holy crap—we're riding that?!" Qin Lan gaped.
Even the insiders Zhi Yong and Ning Tian were stunned.
A 70,000-year soul beast as a mount? Unheard-of luxury.
"Exactly." Chen Junting patted the griffon's tough feathers, gesturing for the group to mount up.
He swept Ning Tian into his arms, treaded empty air, and landed effortlessly on its back. Gu Tianchen opened a Void Gate, effortlessly mounting.
As Qin Lan's group clambered aboard, the griffon—proud as a 70,000-year beast—shook its body, nearly toppling several riders.
Only when Zhi Yong mounted did it calm instantly.
"This thing's a bully who picks on the weak!" Huang Chutian grumbled, steadying himself after nearly falling off the edge. (The Lan Sisters had saved him with hair-tethers.)
Qin Lan shrugged: "It's a 70,000 year old soul beast—equivalent to a Soul Douluo! Forced to be our ride, carrying cultivators weaker than itself? Of course it's resentful."
"Enough—let's go!" Chen Junting ordered.
WHOOSH!
The griffon's wings thundered. Its shadow shrank on the ground as it climbed rapidly.
Zhi Yong's hand swept out—Azure Vine tendrils anchored everyone, while a green barrier shielded them from wind, preserving breathable air.
Landscapes blurred below. The world shrank beneath them.
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