Chapter 32: Ah Yin's Realization and RageThe Spiritual Sea was a tempest. The once serene, ruby-red expanse now churned like a boiling ocean of blood, roiling with the sheer force of Ah Yin's unrestrained, murderous fury. Her crimson form, usually a beacon of calm, maternal grace, was now a blazing inferno of rage. Her garnet eyes were not just burning coals; they were supernovas of hatred, promising annihilation.
Into this maelstrom of emotion, Zhang Tian congealed his own spiritual form. He stood before the enraged empress, a small, calm island in her sea of wrath.
"Ah Yin," he said, his voice a steady, grounding anchor against the storm. "Calm yourself."
"Calm?!" Her voice was a shriek that shook the very foundations of his spiritual consciousness. "How can I be calm, Zhang Tian?! That… that thing is not my son! He is a monster who murdered my child and defiled his body! He walks around wearing my son's face, living the life that was meant for him! And my husband… he stands by and watches! I will kill him! I will burn that imposter's soul to ash!"
"And what then?" Zhang Tian countered, his voice remaining level, cutting through her rage with the sharp edge of logic. "Killing him now is not an option. Think. If he dies suddenly, mysteriously, within the walls of this academy, who will be the primary suspect?"
He didn't wait for her to answer. "It will be me. In this past month, the conflicts between myself and this Tang San have not been few. While we haven't come to physical blows yet, the animosity is clear to everyone, especially his dogmatic teacher. The moment he dies, suspicion will fall squarely on my shoulders."
He saw the fury in her eyes begin to war with reason. He pressed his advantage. "And once I am the suspect, what do you think your dear husband, Tang Hao, will do? He will not listen to reason. He will not wait for proof. He will fly into a rage born from his grief and his shattered plans, and he will hunt me to the ends of the world. His fury is not something I can deal with right now."
He let his gaze soften slightly. "And it won't just be me he targets. What about Rongrong? Zhuqing? Do you think a man blinded by such rage would hesitate to eliminate my friends, my associates, anyone he perceives as being connected to me? Your revenge would be paid for with the lives of innocents."
The raw, undeniable logic of his words began to cool her rage, dousing the flames with the cold water of reality. She understood. Her personal vengeance would bring catastrophic consequences upon the only person who had truly helped her.
But the hope for justice was not so easily extinguished. "Then I will tell him," she declared, a desperate plan forming in her mind. "I will find a way to communicate with my husband. I will tell Tang Hao the truth! I will tell him that an otherworldly soul has killed our son and possessed his body! He will believe me! He will help me!"
Zhang Tian just shook his head slowly, a look of profound pity on his handsome face. "Ah Yin," he said gently, "are you so certain of that? Are you so certain that he doesn't already know?"
The question struck her with the force of a physical blow. "What… what do you mean?"
"Think back," he urged her, his voice a calm, dissecting scalpel. "You told me that for the first six years of his life, this Tang San lived with Tang Hao in the Holy Spirit Village. You saw the memories yourself. You saw him go into the mountains every single day to practice those strange skills. You heard him muttering to himself about rebuilding his 'Tang Sect' in this world."
He looked at her, his blue eyes piercing. "Do you truly believe that a Titled Douluo, a man of immense strength and perception, even one drowning in alcohol and grief, would not notice such glaring irregularities in his own son's actions over the course of six years? He was not a simple blacksmith, Ah Yin. A man of his power would have known something was wrong."
He saw the dawning horror in her eyes and continued relentlessly. "Consider his attitude. You saw it. He treated the boy with coldness, with resentment, even neglect. But when did that change? It changed the moment Tang San awakened his Martial Spirits. Not just the Blue Silver Grass, but a second spirit. The Clear Sky Hammer. Twin Spirits. Innate Full Spirit Power. A peerless genius."
"Suddenly," Zhang Tian said, his voice dripping with scorn, "the neglectful father became a supportive mentor. He saw not a son, but a tool. A weapon. A peerless genius he could use to take revenge against the Spirit Hall, a prodigy who could help the Clear Sky Sect regain its lost glory. The soul of his true son was irrelevant. The potential of the new soul was all that mattered."
He took a step closer to her trembling spiritual form. "Now tell me, Empress. If you go to this man, this husband who has chosen a powerful tool over the memory of his own child, do you truly believe you can convince him to act against this Tang San? To destroy the very weapon he has been cultivating for his revenge?"
The truth was a cold, cruel blade that severed the last, lingering thread of hope she had for her husband. The memories clicked into place, not just of the last few years, but of her entire life with him.
'The Clear Sky Sect…' she thought, her mind a whirlwind of painful recollection.
Seeing her indecision, Zhang Tian pressed on, twisting the knife. "There has always been a suspicion in my mind, Ah Yin," he said softly, as if confiding a long-held secret. "Ever since you told me the story of how you met Tang Hao and his brother, Tang Xiao."
"The Clear Sky Twin Stars," he mused. "Two of the greatest talents of their generation, out on a journey. And they just 'coincidentally' stumbled upon you, a hundred-thousand-year-old spirit beast who had just taken human form."
He shook his head. "Do you really believe that two such important figures would be traveling without protection? Without a Titled Douluo from their sect shadowing them, ensuring their safety? It's highly unlikely. And if they were being protected, that means their protectors would have sensed your true nature from the very beginning. Your identity was likely known to the Clear Sky Sect from the moment you met them."
He saw the realization dawning on her face, the horror twisting her beautiful features. "And isn't it strange?" he continued. "You roamed with them, fell in love with Tang Hao, and your identity remained a secret. But then, you became pregnant. You carried his child. You fulfilled your 'purpose'. And only then, just after you had given birth, did the Spirit Hall's Pope, Qian Xunji, 'coincidentally' learn your exact location and pursue you to the ends of the continent."
He let the final, terrible conclusion hang in the air. "It was a perfect scheme. They allowed you to have their child, and then, once your use for breeding was complete, they orchestrated a situation where their greatest genius, your husband, could gain the greatest advantage from you. Forcing you to sacrifice yourself, providing him with a hundred-thousand-year-old spirit ring and a priceless hundred-thousand-year-old spirit bone, turning him into one of the most powerful Titled Douluo in the world. A perfect, heroic tragedy."
It all made sense. The timing. The convenience. Her husband's fierce loyalty to his sect. She had been a piece in their game all along. A prize to be won, a resource to be harvested.
The last embers of her love for Tang Hao turned to ash, blown away by the cold winds of betrayal. Her grief for her son was now eclipsed by a rage so profound, so absolute, it encompassed not just the imposter in his body, but the man she had once loved, and the entire, manipulative sect that stood behind him.
Her eyes, which had been burning with a chaotic fire, now cooled into two chips of crimson ice. The Empress had returned.
"I see," she whispered, her voice devoid of all emotion. "I see everything now."
She looked at Zhang Tian, her gaze steady and cold. "They will pay. All of them. They will suffer."
Zhang Tian moved to her then, his spiritual form radiating a comforting warmth. He gently took her into his arms, his hands resting on the alluring curves of her waist. Her crimson dress felt like silk against his spiritual form, her voluptuous, milf-like body a startlingly real presence in this sea of thought. Her figure was breathtaking, a perfect hourglass of soft, full curves and a slender waist. She was the embodiment of mature, seductive beauty, and at this moment, she was utterly, completely vulnerable.
He held her close, letting her draw strength from his calm. "Do not worry, Ah Yin," he whispered, his voice a soft, reassuring murmur against her ruby-red hair. "A quick death is a mercy they do not deserve. We will not be so kind. We will target this Tang San. We will break his pride, shatter his confidence, and steal everything he holds dear. We will make him experience a living hell, a pain so profound that death will seem like a sweet release. And only then, when he is a broken, pathetic shell, will we end his miserable existence."
He pulled back slightly, looking into her cold, beautiful eyes. "And we will do the same to your dear husband, and to the Clear Sky Sect that used you so cruelly. We will dismantle them, piece by piece, until nothing remains but dust and bitter memories. But we must be smart. We must be patient."
He smiled, a slow, predatory expression. "And do not forget your own identity, Empress. You are Tang San's mother. And you are also Tang Hao's wife. The emotional damage we can inflict upon them by using you… it will be exquisite."
Ah Yin understood his meaning perfectly. A cold, vengeful smile touched her own perfect, crimson lips. She nodded, her resolve absolute. "I will do anything," she whispered, her voice filled with an icy determination, "as long as I can watch them suffer."
She leaned in, her intention clear. Her lips, the color of blood roses, parted slightly, aiming to seal their new, dark pact with a kiss.
But he gently placed a finger on them, stopping her. "No," he said softly.
He looked at her, at her seductive, curvaceous body, at the desire and desperation in her eyes, and he admitted the truth, both to her and to himself. "I will not deny it, Ah Yin. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I am deeply attracted to you. But I do not wish for our first kiss to be in this place, as spiritual forms. It would not be real."
He smiled, his blue eyes softening. "I want you to have your body back. I will help you recover, help you reform your physical self. And on that day, in the real world," he whispered, his voice a low, intimate promise, "I will do more than just kiss you. I will claim you as my woman."
A profound, touching warmth spread through Ah Yin's heart, melting some of the icy rage. He could have taken advantage of her grief, her desperation. She would not have resisted. But he had not. He had chosen to prioritize her recovery, her future. He wanted her, not just her power or her body, but the real her.
"I will wait for that day, Zhang Tian," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Having made her decision, she knew she had one last gift to give, a final piece of her son's legacy to entrust to the only person she now trusted. "There is one more thing you must do," she said. "When the time is right, you must go to the Blue Silver Forest. Deep within it lies my true clan. I left two drops of my imperial blood essence there, with my most loyal subordinate, a Blue Silver King. It was meant for my son, to trigger his second awakening, to unleash the true power of the Blue Silver Emperor."
Her eyes hardened. "That imposter is not worthy of it. I want you to take it. Absorb it. Let it fuse with your Blood Silver Grass. You will truly awaken the Blood Silver Emperor, and the Blood Silver Domain will become yours completely, without any need for my assistance."
Zhang Tian nodded. "I will go. But only after I have reached Level 30 and acquired my third spirit ring. My mutation is still delicate. The third ring is a major point of transformation for any spirit. I will solidify the foundation of the Blood Silver Grass first. To absorb your blood now might risk diluting the devouring attribute that is the source of my power."
Ah Yin agreed with his sound logic. "Then do so," she said. "And when you are there, my King will assist you. He will command the clan to serve you. You must convert them all. The thousand-year-olds, the ten-thousand-year-olds. Turn them all into Blood Silver Grass. Let their combined power fuel your growth to the heavens."
With their dark pact sealed and their plans laid, Zhang Tian withdrew from the spiritual sea. He returned to the real world, his mind a calm, cold ocean of new possibilities.
He had the knowledge. The techniques of the Tang Sect, their poisons, their hidden weapons, their alchemy. The path to Dugu Bo's garden of immortal herbs was now clear. But he knew he could not be hasty. Dealing with a Titled Douluo was a delicate, dangerous game. He would need a perfect plan.
For now, his path was clear. Training.
He found Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing the next morning, their energy high after a restful night in their luxurious quarters.
"Today," he announced, a new, determined light in his eyes, "our training enters a new phase. It is time we tested ourselves. We will go to the Great Spirit Arena in Suotuo City. But not for one-on-one fights. We will enter as a team of three. It is time we test ourselves against other individuals and raise her combat power."
The two girls looked at each other, a shared, excited grin spreading across their faces. They nodded in unison, their spirits soaring. They were ready.
Hundreds of miles away, in a remote mountain range, the air crackled with a fury that warped the very light.
Tang Hao stood before the empty cave, his face a mask of disbelief that was rapidly crumbling into a volcanic rage. He had seen the disciples of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect scouting the mountains, a flicker of suspicion urging him to return, to check on the one precious thing he had left.
The cave was empty.
His Ah Yin was gone.
The lead box containing her spirit bone was gone.
And then he saw it. Carved into the damp stone of the cave wall, a message written in a mocking, arrogant script.
"Tang Hao, I will take the soul bone for my own use. As for the blue silver grass, it should be the Blue Silver Emperor that was sacrificed for you. Unfortunately, she is too weak now."
"So, I have decided to take it with me and will help it grow stronger before killing it for its Spirit Ring."
"Don't worry, I won't reveal the news that you've been here, nor will I reveal your son's information and whereabouts. After all, I don't want to expose the fact that I absorbed the 100,000-year spirit bone left by your wife and am carrying your wife's body that is in the form of Blue Silver Grass."
"As for who I am, haha, guess! Just know that our grudge from all those years ago can be considered to be cancelled out with this."
The words were a hammer blow to his already shattered heart. His vision turned red. He let out a roar, a sound of pure, unrestrained agony and fury that shook the very foundations of the mountain. He unleashed his spirit power, and the entire cliff face, the colossal waterfall, the cave itself—it all disintegrated, collapsing in a tidal wave of rock and water.
The raw, emotional outburst ripped through him, aggravating the old, deep-seated internal injuries he had suffered years ago. A spray of blood erupted from his lips, painting the devastated landscape in a grim shade of crimson.
He stood there for a long time, amidst the ruin he had created, his chest heaving, his heart a gaping, bleeding wound.
After a few days, his rage cooled into a solid, cold core of hatred. He knew he had to return. He had to protect his son. His last, precious hope.
He turned and limped back towards Shrek Academy, his face a grim, sullen mask, his spirit heavier than the black hammer he carried in his hand.
Chapter 33: Treasure Silver CivetThe Great Spirit Arena of Suotuo City was a living, breathing beast. It was a colossal stone heart that never slept, its rhythmic pulse the roar of thousands of spectators, its lifeblood the endless cycle of combat and glory.
By day, it was a cauldron of sun-baked excitement; by night, under the glare of countless spirit-power-infused lamps, it transformed into a glittering stage of nocturnal violence.
The seats were always full, the air always thick with the smell of roasted nuts, spilled ale, and the sharp, ozonic tang of spirit power unleashed.
It was into this grand theatre of controlled chaos that three masked figures made their way.
They moved through the bustling lower corridors, their identities concealed behind simple, elegant masks. One was a silver mask, intricately carved with the image of a seven-storied pagoda.
The second was a stark black mask, shaped like the face of a hunting cat, its eyes narrowed into predatory slits.
The third was a deep crimson mask, plain and unadorned, save for a single, delicate golden vein that snaked across its surface.
At the bustling registration hall for team battles, they gave their chosen name.
"Team name?" the tired clerk asked, not bothering to look up.
"Treasure Silver Civet," Zhang Tian's calm voice replied.
The clerk scribbled it down. The name, a strange but poetic combination derived from the core of their spirits, was now officially in the system. They were assigned a number and told to wait.
An hour later, their number flashed on the massive display board, sending a ripple of anticipation through the waiting area.
"Team Battle, Spirit Grandmaster Tier, Arena 21: The Mad Dogs versus Treasure Silver Civet!"
The three of them made their way to the designated arena. It was one of the smaller, more intimate stages, but even so, the stands were packed with a rowdy, eager crowd.
As they stepped onto the stone stage, their opponents were already waiting. It was a trio of young men who carried themselves with the practiced, arrogant confidence of seasoned arena fighters. They were a standard, well-balanced team.
The one in the center, clearly the leader, was a tall, powerfully built young man with a heavy, ironwood staff resting on his shoulder. He grinned at them, a look of condescending amusement on his face. This was Gao Feng, a Level 29 Power Attack type.
To his right stood a lithe, sharp-faced youth holding a slender, shimmering sword that resembled a long willow leaf. His movements were twitchy, ready to explode into motion at a moment's notice. This was Liu Yan, a Level 28 Agility Attack type.
And on the left, slightly behind the other two, was a short, stocky boy with sallow skin and bulging eyes. His hands were empty, but his stance was low, his presence unsettling. This was He Shan, a Level 26 Control Type, with his Crimson Poison Toad spirit.
The crowd roared, placing their bets, the announcer's voice booming through the arena.
"On the left, we have the reigning champions of Arena 21, with a seven-fight winning streak! The ferocious, the unstoppable, the Mad Dogs!"
A wave of cheers erupted for the local favorites.
"And on the right, a mysterious new team making their debut tonight! With their strange masks and even stranger name, give it up for the Treasure Silver Civet!"
The response was a mixture of curious murmurs and scattered, half-hearted applause. They were the underdogs, the unknown variable.
On their side of the stage, Zhang Tian turned to his two companions, his voice a low, calm murmur beneath the noise of the crowd.
"Remember the plan," he said, his gaze steady and reassuring. "I will not take significant action unless you are about to lose. My role is to be a normal control-type master. I will handle one of them, keeping them occupied. The rest is up to you two."
He looked at Ning Rongrong, who was nervously adjusting her silver mask. "Rongrong, your only job is to survive and support. Use your training. Dodge. Evade. If you absolutely cannot dodge, reinforce your body. Keep them busy. Make them waste their energy trying to catch you."
He then turned to Zhu Zhuqing, whose black cat mask hid an expression of cold, focused determination. "Zhuqing, you are the blade. With Rongrong's support, you are faster and stronger than any of them. Your target is their weakest link: the control type. Take him out quickly. Do not get drawn into a prolonged fight. A swift, decisive strike. Understood?"
Both girls nodded, their expressions serious, their nerves settling under the calming influence of his confidence.
"Let the battle begin!" the referee roared, dropping his hand.
The fight exploded into motion.
"Plan is the same as always!" Gao Feng shouted to his teammates. "Take out the support master first! Liu Yan, go!"
Liu Yan needed no further encouragement. He became a silver blur. His first spirit ring flared to life. "First Spirit Ability: Willow Flash!"
His body seemed to flicker, his speed doubling in an instant as he shot across the stage like a silver arrow, his Willow Leaf Sword aimed directly at the throat of the girl in the silver pagoda mask.
Ning Rongrong felt a jolt of pure, instinctual fear. The speed was terrifying. In the past, she would have frozen, screamed, or desperately tried to summon a shield.
But now, her training took over.
Zhang Tian's voice echoed in her mind. 'Don't watch the blade. Watch the wielder.'
Her eyes, trained for weeks to absorb every detail, didn't focus on the deadly point of the sword. They focused on Liu Yan's feet, his shoulders, his eyes. She saw the almost imperceptible shift in his weight, the way he angled his body for the thrust. It was a language she was just beginning to learn, but she could read the first few words.
With a small, desperate gasp, she threw herself to the side. It was not a graceful dodge. It was a clumsy, uncoordinated stumble that sent her sprawling onto the stone floor. But it was effective.
The Willow Leaf Sword hissed through the air where her neck had been a fraction of a second before, its wielder overshooting his mark.
The crowd let out a collective gasp, followed by a wave of surprised murmurs.
"Did you see that? The support girl dodged him!"
"Incredible reaction speed! I thought she was done for!"
Liu Yan, his initial attack having missed, twisted with frustration, preparing to strike again at the girl who was now on the ground.
But he never got the chance.
"Seven Treasures are glazed, first spoken, Strength!"
"Seven Treasures are glazed, second spoken, Agility!"
Ning Rongrong, even as she was falling, had not forgotten her primary duty. Two brilliant rays of light shot from the shimmering pagoda above her head, striking the figure in the black cat mask.
Zhu Zhuqing, who had been waiting for this exact moment, became a phantom.
Boosted by a thirty percent increase in both her strength and speed, she was no longer just fast; she was a force of nature. She ignored the ongoing duel between Liu Yan and Ning Rongrong. Her target was clear.
She moved, a black streak across the stage, her path a direct, merciless line towards the enemy's control type, He Shan.
He Shan, seeing the terrifying, black-clad specter hurtling towards him, panicked. "First Spirit Ability: Poison Spit!"
His cheeks puffed out, and he spat a glob of viscous, green liquid. The poison projectile flew through the air, aimed directly at Zhu Zhuqing's face.
But to the buffed Zhu Zhuqing, it seemed to be moving in slow motion. She didn't even break her stride. With a fluid, feline grace, she tilted her body, the glob of poison sailing harmlessly past her shoulder, splattering against the stage floor with a sizzle, a small plume of acrid smoke rising from the stone.
She was on him in an instant. Her first spirit ring lit up. "Hell Rush Stab!"
Her already incredible speed doubled again. Her hands, now covered in sharp, spectral black claws, became a blur.
He Shan didn't even have time to scream. Zhu Zhuqing's claws raked across his chest, not deep enough to be lethal, but powerful enough to throw him off his feet, his spirit power scattering in disarray. He crashed to the ground, groaning, out of the fight for the moment.
The crowd erupted.
"Unbelievable! The cat-masked girl took out their control type in a single exchange!"
"What speed! What power! And that support master… her buffs are insane!"
Gao Feng, the leader of the Mad Dogs, watched in horror as his carefully laid plan crumbled in the first ten seconds of the fight. "He Shan is down! Liu Yan, fall back! We'll deal with the attacker together!" he roared.
But his command came too late.
Just as he was about to charge forward to help his downed teammate, the ground before him came alive. Thick, blood-red vines, each one pulsing with a faint, regal golden light, erupted from the stone floor, forming a dense, impenetrable wall.
It was Zhang Tian. He had fulfilled his promise, stepping in to intercept the enemy's most powerful member.
Gao Feng roared in frustration and slammed his ironwood staff into the vine wall. His first spirit ring lit up. "Heavy Strike!"
The staff glowed with a heavy, brown light, its weight and power multiplying. The impact was immense, sending splinters of crimson vine flying. But the wall, though damaged, held firm. It was far tougher than any ordinary control spirit's creation.
'What kind of grass is this?' Gao Feng thought, stunned. 'It's as tough as ironwood!'
He was now locked in a one-on-one battle with the man in the crimson mask, completely unable to support his teammates.
The fight had fractured into three distinct duels.
On one side, Liu Yan, his face twisted in a snarl of fury, turned his attention back to Ning Rongrong, who was scrambling back to her feet. "You got lucky, little girl! Now you die!"
He lunged again, his second spirit ring now glowing. "Piercing Thorn!"
His Willow Leaf Sword was enveloped in a sharp, spiraling aura of silver light, its tip glowing like a deadly star. It was a focused, armor-piercing attack.
Ning Rongrong knew she couldn't dodge this one. It was too fast, its trajectory too direct. Her mind raced, remembering her training. 'If you cannot dodge, reinforce.'
Fear warred with determination. She didn't have time to think. She acted on pure instinct. She raised her left arm, pouring a frantic stream of her own spirit power into it, just as Zhang Tian had taught her.
A faint, shimmering light, the same color as her seven-storied pagoda, enveloped her arm a fraction of a second before the sword struck.
CLANG!
The sound was like steel striking crystal. The Piercing Thorn slammed into her reinforced arm. She cried out in pain, a sharp, stabbing sensation shooting up to her shoulder. The force of the blow sent her stumbling back, her arm throbbing, a deep, angry red mark already forming on her skin.
But her arm was not pierced. The bone was not broken. The impromptu spirit power shield had held. It had saved her from a grievous injury.
The crowd went insane.
"She blocked it! A support master just blocked a power attack from an agility type with her bare arm!"
"Is that even possible?! What kind of training did she go through?!"
Liu Yan stared in utter disbelief, his mind unable to process what had just happened. This girl… she was breaking all the rules.
His shock was his undoing.
While he was frozen in his disbelief, a black shadow descended upon him. Zhu Zhuqing, having neutralized their control type, had immediately turned her attention to him.
"Second Spirit Ability! Hell Hundred Claws!"
A vortex of spectral black claws engulfed the stunned swordsman. He cried out as dozens of sharp attacks raked across his body, his uniform tearing, shallow cuts appearing all over his arms and chest. He was thrown backwards, disarmed, his spirit shattered.
Two down.
Now, all eyes turned to the last remaining duel.
Gao Feng was still locked in a frustrating battle against the man in the crimson mask. He slammed his staff against the vine walls again and again, but for every wall he shattered, two more would erupt from the ground, blocking his path, changing the terrain, forcing him into awkward positions. It was like fighting the arena itself.
"Sweeping Gale!" he roared in desperation, activating his second ability.
He spun his staff in a wide, powerful arc, creating a miniature whirlwind of force designed to clear everything around him.
The whirlwind ripped through Zhang Tian's vines, tearing them to shreds. For a moment, the path was clear. Gao Feng grinned, preparing to charge.
But Zhang Tian just smiled behind his mask. The destroyed vines didn't dissipate. They dissolved into a cloud of thousands of tiny, hardened crimson needles.
The needle storm swept forward, engulfing the surprised Gao Feng. He yelped, dropping his staff to cover his face as the needles peppered his body, stinging like a swarm of angry wasps.
He was completely blinded, completely disoriented.
The fight was over. Gao Feng, seeing both his teammates defeated and himself surrounded by an opponent whose abilities were utterly baffling, raised a hand in surrender.
"I… I yield!" he gasped.
The referee, who had been watching the entire fight with a slack-jawed expression, finally found his voice. "Winner, by submission… Treasure Silver Civet!"
The arena exploded into a deafening roar. It was a stunning upset. The new, mysterious team had not just won; they had dominated, dismantling the reigning champions with a display of skill, power, and tactics that was utterly mesmerizing.
Zhang Tian calmly retracted his vines, and walked over to his two teammates.
Ning Rongrong was cradling her bruised arm, wincing in pain, but her eyes were shining with a triumphant, adrenaline-fueled light. "I did it," she whispered, a look of pure disbelief on her face. "I actually did it."
Zhu Zhuqing was panting slightly, her own body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The buffed, high-intensity battle had taken a toll on her, but her posture was proud, her victory earned.
As they walked off the stage to the thunderous applause of the crowd, Zhang Tian's eyes lingered for a moment on his two companions.
Ning Rongrong, despite her pain, was beaming, her face flushed with victory, a new, hard-won confidence radiating from her.
And Zhu Zhuqing… her dark clothes clung to her sweat-drenched body, outlining every perfect, breathtaking curve. The rise and fall of her large, full breasts as she caught her breath, the slender curve of her waist, the powerful, elegant line of her hips and the alluring curve of her curvaceous buttocks… she was a masterpiece of lethal, feminine power.
A faint, appreciative sigh escaped Zhang Tian's lips, a thought echoing in his mind.
'She truly does have a killer, sexy body.'
They collected their winnings and their new Iron Badges and made their way out of the noisy arena.
That night, back at Shrek Academy, the two girls soaked their sore, bruised bodies in the luxurious, steaming waters of their private medicinal bath. The warm, healing liquid soothed their aching muscles, but it couldn't soothe the excited, triumphant energy that buzzed between them. They chattered and laughed, reliving every moment of their victory, their friendship solidified in the crucible of combat.
In his own quiet room, Zhang Tian did not rest. He sat cross-legged, his breathing deep and even, as he cultivated his spirit power, the events of the day a closed book. The victory was expected. The progress was satisfactory. But the path ahead was long, and he would not waste a single moment.