Luo Feng's POV
The deeper regions of the Star Dou Great Forest were a world unto themselves—ancient trees whose trunks rivaled city walls, vines thick as pythons dangling from canopies that blotted out the sun, and air so saturated with life energy that it hummed against the skin.
Luo Feng walked at the rear of the group, senses extended in a wide net. To the Shrek Seven Devils, he appeared relaxed, almost leisurely. In truth, he was cataloguing every soul beast within a hundred kilometers, redirecting the more aggressive ones with subtle spatial distortions so they never crossed the group's path.
He had promised not to fight their battles, and he intended to keep that promise. But he had never said anything about removing unnecessary risks.
Ahead, Tang San led with quiet confidence, Blue Silver Grass spreading subtly to scout terrain. Xiao Wu stayed close to his side, occasionally glancing back at Luo Feng with a mix of curiosity and lingering awe. Dai Mubai and Zhu Zhuqing scouted flanks. Ma Hongjun grumbled about the humidity but kept pace. Oscar and Ning Rongrong brought up the middle, the two auxiliary members guarded instinctively by the others.
Ning Rongrong's pagoda glowed softly, maintaining a steady 30% boost to speed and strength for the entire team. Luo Feng noted the strain in her posture—she was pushing her limits again, refusing to ask for a break even as sweat beaded on her forehead.
Stubborn, he thought with a faint inward smile. Admirable, but unnecessary today.
Oscar's POV
Oscar trudged along, fanning himself with one hand while clutching a freshly made recovery sausage in the other.
"I have a big flying mushroom sausage~" he sang under his breath, then winced as Ma Hongjun threatened to set his clothes on fire if he didn't stop.
Still, the mood was better than it had any right to be after yesterday's disaster. Having Luo Feng with them felt like cheating the system. Nothing had attacked them all morning, despite entering zones where even Spirit King teams would tread carefully.
He glanced sideways at Ning Rongrong. She looked tired but determined, pagoda shining steadily.
"You okay, princess?" he asked quietly. "You've been boosting us for hours."
"I'm fine," she replied automatically, then softened. "Really. I can keep this up another few hours if we need."
Oscar raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to prove anything, you know. We all know you're carrying us."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "That's exactly why I do."
He let it drop. Rongrong had been changing ever since joining Shrek—slowly shedding the spoiled clan princess layer. Moments like this reminded him how far she'd come.
His gaze drifted back to Luo Feng. The man walked like he was taking a stroll through a park, yet every soul beast they should have encountered simply… wasn't there.
"Either we're the luckiest team alive," Oscar muttered, "or our new friend is scaring the forest itself into behaving."
Ning Rongrong followed his gaze, a complicated expression crossing her face. "I think it's the second one."
Tang San's POV – Midday
They found the first suitable soul beast just past noon: a Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track Panther, roughly 4,200 years old—perfect for Oscar's fourth spirit ring. Agile, illusion-based, with strong stealth capabilities that would complement his auxiliary role in team strategies.
The panther prowled a small clearing, obsidian fur blending with shadows. Its yellow eyes fixed on the group as they emerged.
Tang San signaled a halt. "This one's good for Oscar. Formation three—control and contain, no killing blows until he's ready."
The team moved with practiced efficiency. Dai Mubai roared forward with White Tiger Meteor Shower. Zhu Zhuqing vanished into shadow. Ma Hongjun's phoenix flames lit the edges to prevent escape. Xiao Wu and Tang San's Blue Silver Grass wove a cage of vines and paralysis.
Oscar began his incantation, face flushed with focus.
Luo Feng remained at the treeline, watching silently.
The battle was intense but controlled. The panther was fast—blurring strikes that left afterimages—but the Shrek Devils had grown stronger together. Tang San's hidden weapons pinned limbs at crucial moments. Ning Rongrong's boosts turned good hits into devastating ones.
Finally, Oscar struck the finishing blow with a sharpened sausage turned dagger (don't ask). The purple spirit ring rose, deep and rich.
As Oscar sat cross-legged to absorb it, the team relaxed into guard positions.
Tang San approached Luo Feng. "You could have ended that in seconds."
"I could have," Luo Feng agreed. "But then he wouldn't have earned it."
Tang San nodded slowly. "You value growth through struggle."
"It's the only kind that lasts."
A comfortable silence settled between them—two men who understood the weight of power and the cost of shortcuts.
Ning Rongrong's POV – Late Afternoon
By late afternoon, they had secured Oscar's ring successfully. He emerged from absorption grinning, new spirit skill already tested: a flying mushroom sausage that now granted limited invisibility for thirty seconds.
The group celebrated with Oscar's trademark shameless declarations, and even Zhu Zhuqing smiled.
But Ning Rongrong's spirit power was nearing true depletion. She refused to show it, keeping her pagoda active at minimal output.
They pressed on, searching for something suitable for her own fourth ring—ideally a support or agility type with illusion or healing properties to complement the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda.
The forest grew darker as the sun dipped. Strange mists curled around tree trunks.
Then Tang San froze.
Ahead, in a small glade bathed in eerie purple light, hovered a creature unlike any in common records: a Dreamweaver Butterfly, wings patterned with hypnotic spirals. Age assessment placed it around 4,800 years—slightly over the ideal threshold, but its abilities were legendary for auxiliary soul masters.
Illusion amplification. Spirit power recovery acceleration. Even faint mind-soothing effects.
Perfect.
But it was not alone.
Circling the butterfly protectively was a much larger beast—a Crimson Flame Lion, over 8,000 years, its mane burning with spirit flames. Territorial. Aggressive.
Dai Mubai cursed under his breath. "Two at once. The lion's too strong for us right now."
Tang San's mind raced. "We could try to separate them—"
"No need," Luo Feng said quietly, stepping forward for the first time all day.
All eyes turned to him.
He met Ning Rongrong's gaze directly. "This one is yours. I'll handle the lion."
Before anyone could protest, he walked into the glade as though strolling through his own garden.
The Crimson Flame Lion roared, flames erupting in a wave of heat that scorched nearby trees. It charged.
Luo Feng didn't even raise a hand.
A ripple passed through the air—barely visible, like heat haze. The lion's charge halted mid-leap, as though it had slammed into an invisible wall. Confusion replaced rage in its eyes. Then, gently but irresistibly, it was pushed backward, step by step, until it stood at the glade's edge.
It tried to roar again. No sound emerged.
Luo Feng glanced at it almost apologetically. "Stay."
The lion sat. Obediently.
The Dreamweaver Butterfly, undisturbed, continued its lazy spirals.
The Shrek group stared, speechless.
Ning Rongrong felt her heart pound—not from fear, but from the sheer impossibility of what she'd just witnessed.
Luo Feng turned back to her. "Go. It won't resist."
She swallowed, then stepped forward on shaky legs. The team formed up behind her instinctively, ready to support.
The butterfly's wings fluttered as she approached, releasing a shower of dreamlike dust. Hypnotic patterns tried to cloud her mind, but her pagoda flared instinctively, stabilizing her spirit.
The battle was shorter than Oscar's, but no less intense. The butterfly's illusions created phantom attackers—visions of her father disapproving, her clan elders shaking heads, even twisted images of her teammates injured because she wasn't strong enough.
Each illusion struck at her deepest insecurities.
Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to falter.
"I am enough," she whispered fiercely. "I will be more."
Her pagoda's fourth treasure position flared to life as she struck the final blow.
The purple ring rose—deeper than Oscar's, almost black at the edges.
As she began absorption, the illusions faded. In their place came warmth, acceptance. Strength.
Luo Feng's POV – Watching from the Edge
He kept the lion subdued with the barest thread of spatial restraint, attention fully on the girl in the center of the glade.
The Dreamweaver Butterfly's trials were mental as much as spiritual. He could have shielded her from them, but again—that would steal her victory.
She faced every fear head-on. Pride. Insecurity. The terror of being useless to those she cared about.
And she overcame them.
When the ring fully merged and she opened her eyes, glowing with new power, something shifted inside Luo Feng's chest—an emotion he hadn't felt in millennia.
Pride. Not his own, but for her.
She stood slowly, pagoda now radiating four distinct treasures. Her new spirit skill shimmered into existence: Dream Veil—a thirty-meter aura that accelerated spirit power recovery by 50% and granted minor illusion resistance to allies.
The team erupted in cheers. Oscar whooped. Even Zhu Zhuqing hugged her briefly.
Ning Rongrong's eyes found Luo Feng across the glade.
She walked straight to him, stopping a pace away. Up close, her blue eyes were bright with tears she refused to let fall.
"Thank you," she said, voice steady despite the emotion. "For giving me the chance to earn it myself."
He inclined his head. "You did the earning. I only… cleared the path."
A small smile curved her lips—genuine, unguarded. "Still. Thank you."
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other as the team celebrated behind them.
The lion, released from restraint now that the butterfly was gone, slunk away into the forest without a backward glance.
Twilight deepened around them.
Two spirit rings secured. Bonds strengthened. And between a cosmic wanderer and a proud clan daughter, another invisible thread wove tighter—still fragile, still unnamed, but undeniably there.