Ye Xinglan's Threat
The registration process was a swift, bureaucratic affair held in a stark, brightly lit annex of the colossal stadium. After passing through identity verification and a perfunctory security scan, they entered a cavernous hall buzzing with nervous energy. The air smelled of ozone from active soul tools and the sharp tang of anticipation.
The strength test was a formality for them. One by one, Yao Xuan, Gu Yue, Tang Wulin, and Xie Xie faced off in a cordoned square against a bored-looking Soul Master in his twenties. The man moved with rote efficiency, his spirit a common Iron-Shell Turtle, defense-oriented. Yao Xuan ended it with a single, controlled push of Ancestral Dragon force that sent the tester sliding back five meters on his heels, his shield flickering out. Gu Yue simply stared, her spiritual pressure causing the man's spirit to flinch back into his body before he could even summon an attack. Tang Wulin's Blue Silver Grass entangled and immobilized him in seconds, while Xie Xie's dagger was a phantom press against the man's throat before he could blink.
Papers were stamped, soul communicator codes logged, and they were done. The shuttle ride back to the seaside hotel was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts about the coming days. The schedule was grueling: five team matches and five individual matches across five days, with the blacksmith competition slots wedged into the evenings.
That afternoon, the hotel room was a study in focused calm. Yao Xuan and Gu Yue sat cross-legged on the floor in a patch of sunlight, meditating, their auras a quiet, complementary hum. Xu Xiaoyan practiced fine control over her Starlight Mist in a corner, creating tiny, shimmering constellations in her palm. Only Tang Wulin was absent, lured away by a soul message from his new 'foodie friend.'
He returned just as evening painted the sky in shades of violet and gold, bursting into the room with the scent of salt and grilled fish clinging to him. His eyes were bright, his movements animated.
"How was it, Wulin?" Yao Xuan asked, opening his eyes and offering a small smile.
"Amazing! We found this little place by the docks. The bluefin tuna… Brother Xuan, it melted in your mouth! A real shame you missed it," Tang Wulin gushed, his hands shaping the memory of the meal in the air.
"Glad you enjoyed it. Feel ready for tomorrow?" Yao Xuan steered the conversation back to purpose.
"Absolutely!" Tang Wulin declared, punching a fist into his palm.
"Good." Yao Xuan paused, his tone carefully neutral. "Did you run into Ye Xinglan?"
Tang Wulin's enthusiastic expression soured instantly. He plopped down on a bed. "We did! Brother Xuan, you're psychic! But listen, don't let that pretty face fool you. She's got a temper like a storm dragon! Acts like I personally offended her ancestors. It's exhausting!"
Yao Xuan nodded sagely. "She's a prodigy from Shrek. Arrogance comes with the territory. In our world, respect is carved with strength. You only earn it by meeting their standard." Internally, he calculated. 'The conflict is locked in. Without the Golden Dragon Claw's early power spike, Wulin would be outmatched. But this tension… it's an opportunity. To test ourselves against Shrek's finest, even in a minor tournament. To gauge the gap firsthand.'
The next morning's individual elimination matches were brief, forgettable affairs. Their opponents were clearly outclassed, and victory was secured with minimal exertion. The real focus was the afternoon team match.
In the team preparation room under the stadium, Wu Changkong made his lineup decision with a coach's cold logic. "Gu Yue, Xie Xie, you're observing today. Tang Wulin, Xu Xiaoyan, you're up with Yao Xuan. Learn the feel of the stage."
Their opponents were from Ocean City Intermediate Academy—three boys who looked a year or two older, their confidence brittle. The match began and ended in the span of a held breath. Yao Xuan didn't even move from his starting position. A pulse of Ancestral Dragon pressure, carefully diluted, washed over the opposing trio. It was just enough to stagger them, to disrupt their spirit summoning. In that heartbeat of hesitation, Tang Wulin's Blue Silver Grass lashed out, wrapping two in cocoons of vibrant green. Xu Xiaoyan, with quick thinking, conjured a veil of Starlight Mist around the third, disorienting him long enough for Tang Wulin to secure him as well.
The bell rang. The crowd offered polite applause. It was less a battle and more a demonstration of fundamental disparity.
Back in the preparation room's sterile light, Xie Xie stretched lazily. "Boss, were they even trying? That's what they call Great Soul Masters?"
"Their foundation is unstable, and their combat experience is from textbooks, not survival," Yao Xuan analyzed, leaning against a wall. "Teacher Wu's methods are harsh, but they forge real strength. Remember that."
"Right! Let's keep pushing for the championship!" Tang Wulin chimed in, the easy win bolstering his spirits.
"Hmph. The championship? Don't choke on your ambition."
The voice was a shard of ice thrown into the room. They turned as one.
Ye Xinglan stood in the doorway, a silhouette of cool contempt. Xu Lizhi hovered nervously behind her shoulder, offering Tang Wulin a helpless, apologetic shrug. Ye Xinglan's azure eyes were fixed on Tang Wulin, blazing with a fury that seemed disproportionate to a simple dinner disagreement.
"What did you do?" Xie Xie hissed, elbowing Tang Wulin.
"I… I don't know! We just ate! And had a minor… misunderstanding?" Tang Wulin whispered back, genuinely bewildered.
Yao Xuan suppressed a knowing sigh. The details were trivial—a forgotten wallet, a pile of dishes, a bruised ego—but for a proud young dragon like Ye Xinglan, the perceived humiliation was real.
He stepped forward, placing himself slightly between his team and the cold glare from the doorway. His voice was calm, a flat counterpoint to her frost. "Whether we choke or not is our concern. The arrogance of Shrek doesn't give you the right to police other people's goals."
Ye Xinglan's gaze snapped to him, her chin lifting. "It matters because we've entered the competition. I'll personally ensure you're knocked out before the top sixteen. Hmph."
"You registered?" Xie Xie blurted out. "But you're guests! From Shrek!"
A thin, smug smile touched Ye Xinglan's lips. "A temporary transfer of academic affiliation. A trivial matter. No one objected. So pray your luck holds and you avoid me." She raised a fist, not in a threat of violence, but in a gesture of absolute, dismissive certainty, her eyes sweeping over all of them before lingering on Tang Wulin with particular promise.
"We'll see," Yao Xuan replied, his tone unchanging, meeting her gaze with steady resolve.
"Yes. You will." With a final, disdainful sniff, she turned on her heel, her golden ponytail whipping like a banner of war, and marched away, dragging a mortified-looking Xu Lizhi in her wake.
The room was left in a sudden, heavy quiet.
"Wu Lin…" Xie Xie began again.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Tang Wulin groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to start a war!"
Yao Xuan walked over and placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't carry the guilt. Their pride was looking for a reason to be offended. It was inevitable." He looked at each of them—Gu Yue, who had watched the entire exchange with silent, analytical intensity; Xie Xie, buzzing with indignant energy; Xu Xiaoyan, looking worried; and Tang Wulin, frustrated. "And she's right about one thing: Shrek's name isn't a shield we need to fear. If a fight comes, we face it. Together. For now," he said, releasing Tang Wulin's shoulder, "we focus on the next task. We have a forging competition tonight."
The confrontation had drawn a line. The path to their goal was no longer abstract; it now had a face, a name, and a cold, challenging glare. The tournament had just gotten real.