Chapter 36: Zhang Tian's Team Vs Tang San's TeamYu Xiaogang stepped forward, his expression as stiff and unreadable as ever, his gaze sweeping over the six young combatants.
"This is a friendly spar," he announced, his voice a flat, emotionless monotone that seemed to suck the very warmth from the air. "Its purpose is to gauge your progress and identify areas for improvement in your teamwork. As such, all external tools and weapons are forbidden. You will rely solely on your Martial Spirits and the abilities they grant you. The battle will conclude when one team is rendered unable to continue the fight, or when a member yields. Understood?"
A chorus of nods and grunts answered him. With a final, lingering look at his own team—a look that held the unshakeable confidence of a man who believes his own logic to be an irrefutable law of nature—he turned and stepped back. He joined a nervous Oscar and an excited Xiao Wu on the sidelines.
"Go, Third Brother!" Xiao Wu yelled, pumping a fist in the air. "Show them! Beat them up!"
Oscar, catching the infectious energy, chimed in, "You got this, Boss Mubai! Fatty, don't hold back!"
Yu Xiaogang declared, his voice ringing across the field with a cold finality, "Let the spar... begin!"
---
The instant the word "begin" left Yu Xiaogang's lips, the tranquil training ground erupted into a maelstrom of violent energy. There was no hesitation, no tentative probing. Six nascent monsters, honed by brutal training and fueled by pride, unleashed their power simultaneously.
"Grandmaster's plan stands! Fatty, Third Brother, suppress their control type! I will eliminate their support!" Dai Mubai's roar was a guttural thunderclap, laced with a raw, desperate fury. He was a prince, a genius, yet he had been humbled.
This was not just a spar; it was a battle for his shattered pride. "Evil Eye White Tiger, Possess!"
A blindingly brilliant white light exploded from him, so intense it forced the onlookers to squint. His crisp white shirt strained and then ripped as his muscles swelled to grotesque proportions.
Coarse white fur, striped with stark black patterns, erupted across his skin. His hands contorted, fingers thickening and elongating into vicious, razor-sharp claws. A primal aura of a king among beasts radiated from him, and below his feet, two yellow and one purple spirit rings pulsed with oppressive power.
His pupils constricted, his heterochromatic eyes locking onto the distant, slender figure of Ning Rongrong with the single-minded focus of a predator that had singled out the weakest of the herd. The support was the lynchpin.
He knew it. Grandmaster had drilled it into them. Take out the support, and the enemy formation crumbles.
But on the opposite side, there was no panic, only practiced, instantaneous reaction. Before Dai Mubai could even plant his foot for his charge, Ning Rongrong had already acted. The exquisite Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Pagoda, a shimmering construct of silver light and precious gems, materialized above her outstretched palm.
"Seven Treasures are glazed, first spoken, Strength!"
"Seven Treasures are glazed, second spoken, Agility!"
Her voice was crisp and melodious, a stark contrast to Dai Mubai's bestial roar. Two incandescent rays of light, one vibrant red and one ethereal blue, shot from the pagoda. They didn't target the charging tiger but instead flew unerringly toward her own teammates.
The light slammed into Zhang Tian and Zhu Zhuqing, suffusing them with a visible aura of power. It was a staggering thirty percent boost, a testament to the purity of her spirit and the quality of her spirit rings.
Zhu Zhuqing, who was already a specter of speed, felt a torrent of raw physical power flood her limbs, a potent force reinforcing her agile frame. Simultaneously, her already inhuman swiftness was amplified, making her movements feel slick and frictionless. Zhang Tian felt a similar surge, his muscles coiling with newfound strength, his senses sharpening as his reaction time was honed to a razor's edge.
Dai Mubai shot forward, a blur of white and black fury, a living battering ram aimed squarely at the girl who dared to stand as the core of the enemy team. He ignored the others, his mind a vortex of a single thought: 'Crush the support! Crush her!'
His path, however, was not clear. A black shadow, moving with a velocity that now bordered on teleportation, streaked across the dusty ground to intercept him. The buff from Ning Rongrong had elevated Zhu Zhuqing's speed from merely exceptional to truly terrifying.
"Hell Civet, Possess!"
As she moved, her transformation completed in a fluid, seamless motion. Her lithe body became even more sleek and panther-like. Her already captivating eyes shifted, her left turning a deep, enigmatic dark green while her right became a piercing, clear blue. Sharp, black claws, looking as though they were carved from obsidian, extended from her fingertips. Her first, yellow spirit ring flared to life, a golden halo against her dark form.
'Hell Rush Stab!' The thought was her command. It wasn't a complex skill, but a focused, devastatingly fast thrust. She didn't try to match Dai Mubai's brute force; she aimed to use her speed to pierce his momentum.
Her spectral black claws clashed with his massive white tiger paws.
CLANG!
The sound was shockingly metallic, like forged steel striking an anvil. Sparks flew from the point of impact. Dai Mubai, a Spirit Elder with superior rank and raw physical power, successfully parried the strike. His arm, however, was sent jarringly numb by the force of the impact, a testament to the power of Ning Rongrong's thirty percent strength buff. His thunderous charge was brought to a screeching, undignified halt. He was stalled, if only for a second.
"Get out of my way!" he snarled, his voice a low growl of frustration. He swiped his massive paw, not with a killing technique, but with overwhelming force designed to swat a fly. The blow was too powerful and wide for Zhu Zhuqing to counter directly. She disengaged with a graceful backflip, landing lightly on her feet a dozen meters away, her eerie dual-colored eyes never leaving him. She had done her job: she had bought time.
While the two agility and power attackers clashed, the other side of the battlefield had become a storm of coordinated suppression. Ma Hongjun, his chubby face flushed a belligerent red, had already undergone his own transformation.
"Evil Fire Phoenix, Possess!"
A wave of heat washed over the field as his body was wreathed in brilliant orange flames. His first spirit ring, a century-old yellow, blazed beneath him.
"First Spirit Ring! Phoenix Fire Wire!" he bellowed. He drew a deep breath and spewed a condensed, laser-like line of incandescent flame directly from his mouth. It wasn't a wide-area burst of fire; it was a piercing, focused jet designed for maximum penetration, and it was aimed straight at Zhang Tian.
In the exact same moment, Tang San moved, his expression one of calm, analytical focus. His first spirit ring shone. "First Spirit Ring! Bind!"
The ground around Zhang Tian's feet exploded. Dozens of thick, unnaturally tough Blue Silver Grass vines, each tinged with a faint, ominous purple, erupted from the earth.
They were not mere plants; they were extensions of his will, living manacles snaking towards their target, seeking to entangle, crush, and immobilize.
The combination was perfect: a ranged attack to force evasion, and a ground-based trap to punish it.
Zhang Tian, however, seemed to have anticipated this very pincer movement. He was already in motion before the attacks even fully manifested. His feet moved in a strange, almost arrhythmic pattern, a series of short, explosive shuffles and pivots that defied conventional martial arts.
He took a single, powerful step to his right. The Phoenix Fire Wire hissed past him, missing by inches and scorching a black line into the ground.
As the grasping Blue Silver Grass vines closed in from all sides, he didn't try to leap over them or brute force his way through.
Instead, he stomped his right foot hard. A single, thick tendril of his own crimson Blood Silver Grass erupted from the ground beneath him. It coiled like a compressed spring for less than a fraction of a second and then violently unfurled, launching him vertically into the air.
He shot upwards, sailing gracefully over the sea of entangling blue vines. The very instant he was clear, the crimson vine that had launched him dissolved into motes of red light, vanishing completely. It was a perfect, instantaneous maneuver, conserving the absolute minimum of spirit power.
'His movement… it's not a spirit ability, but it's incredibly effective,' Tang San noted, his analytical mind already dissecting the strange footwork. His Purple Demon Eye, a subtle gleam in his pupils, tracked every minute detail. 'He uses his spirit in short, controlled bursts to create and then immediately disperse platforms or springs. It's a brilliant method for close-quarter evasion, far more versatile than regular dodging. I have to pin him down.'
On the other side of the field, Dai Mubai had shaken off the numbness in his arm and shrugged off Zhu Zhuqing's initial interception.
His eyes, burning with obsession, found Ning Rongrong again. He roared and charged once more, determined to complete his mission. But his path was blocked again.
"Bloodvine Cage!" Zhang Tian's calm voice echoed from his position in the air. He landed, and with a wave of his hand, a dense, intricate cage of thick, crimson vines erupted from the ground directly in the charging prince's path.
The vines were interwoven, thorny, and pulsed with a malevolent red light, forcing Dai Mubai to skid to a halt, his claws gouging deep furrows in the earth.
He roared in pure, unadulterated frustration and began tearing at the cage, his claws ripping through the tough vines, but they were regenerating almost as fast as he could destroy them.
"Fatty! Burn it!" he yelled, his voice muffled by the exertion.
"You got it, Boss Mubai!" Ma Hongjun, ever-eager to please, shifted his aim from Zhang Tian. "Phoenix Fire Wire!"
Another jet of concentrated flame slammed into the Bloodvine Cage. The effect was immediate. Fire was the natural enemy of plants, even spirit plants.
The resilient crimson vines, which had withstood Dai Mubai's furious physical assault, began to char, blacken, and smolder under the intense, focused heat. Within seconds, the cage crumbled into a pile of glowing embers and ash.
Dai Mubai was free again. He locked eyes with Ning Rongrong, who had used the brief respite to put more distance between them. He didn't hesitate. He opened his maw, and his second spirit ring blazed.
"Second Spirit Ability! White Tiger Intense Light Wave!"
A sphere of blinding white light, crackling with raw spirit power, shot from his mouth. It was fast, powerful, and aimed directly at her.
Ning Rongrong's heart hammered in her chest, but there was no fear in her eyes. Her training, her new confidence—it all came together. She didn't use the Purple Demon Eye, and she didn't need it for an attack so straightforward.
She saw the deep breath he took, the way the light gathered in his throat, the subtle tensing of his jaw muscles. It was all telegraphed.
With a dancer's grace, she took two quick steps to her left. The devastating light wave flew harmlessly past her, impacting the far wall of the training field and blasting a crater into the solid stone.
"What are you doing, you useless tiger?!" Ning Rongrong taunted, her voice ringing with a newfound, sharp-edged confidence. The fear she might have once felt was gone, replaced by the exhilarating rush of battle. "Is your aim really as bad as your ability to handle your woman? You can't even hit a little support master like me! How pathetic!"
The taunt was a perfectly aimed needle, stabbing directly into the festering wound of Dai Mubai's pride.
"You—!" he roared, his fury boiling over, shattering his composure and making him reckless. He abandoned ranged attacks and charged again, falling right into her trap.
Ning Rongrong didn't stand her ground. She began to run. It wasn't a panicked, screaming flight, but a controlled, tactical retreat. She weaved and dodged, her path seeming random, yet every step was calculated. She was subtly, expertly, leading the enraged prince on a wild goose chase, guiding him closer and closer to the chaotic melee where Zhang Tian was single-handedly holding off both Tang San and Ma Hongjun.
That front of the battle had become a swirling vortex of attacks. Zhang Tian was a ghost, a phantom of evasive motion.
Ma Hongjun's fire was relentless, a constant stream of orange death that forced Zhang Tian to constantly be on the move, preventing him from establishing any kind of solid foothold. Every time he tried to manifest a significant amount of Blood Silver Grass, Ma Hongjun would immediately incinerate it. Tang San, meanwhile, was the patient spider, weaving his web.
"Fatty, keep the pressure on! Don't let him breathe!" Tang San commanded, his eyes glowing with that faint purple light.
The Purple Demon Eye saw everything—the feints, the dodges, the subtle weight shifts. His hands became a blur, glowing with the warm, lustrous sheen of the Mysterious Jade Hand.
With a series of complex gestures, he manipulated the very air around the battlefield. 'Controlling Crane Capturing Dragon.'
He wasn't attacking Zhang Tian directly with it. Instead, he was performing a far more subtle and high-level maneuver. He was creating minute air currents, invisible forces that nudged and guided Ma Hongjun's Phoenix Fire Wire.
He was bending the line of fire, making it home in on Zhang Tian's position with unerring accuracy, forcing Zhang Tian into ever more desperate evasions. This was teamwork of the highest order.
At the same time, his second spirit ring flared. "Parasite!"
Dozens of tiny, almost invisible seeds, which he had subtly scattered during the initial exchange, now activated at his command. Small, thorny vines erupted from the ground all around Zhang Tian, not to bind him, but to trip him, to snag his ankles, to slow him down for that one crucial, fatal second.
Zhang Tian was being herded, corralled like an animal. He was trapped between a homing jet of fire and a field of ensnaring thorns. He had to clash. Evasion was no longer an option.
'Their teamwork is flawless,' Zhang Tian admitted internally, a spark of admiration flashing through him even in the heat of battle. 'Tang San's Tang Sect skills are formidable. He's not just using his own abilities; he's enhancing his teammate's. A true control master.'
But he was not without his own tricks. Instead of dodging, he planted his feet and met the attack head-on. 'Crimson Shield!'
The ground around him burst upward. Not one shield, but dozens of smaller, interwoven shields of crimson vines erupted in layers, forming a hemispherical dome over him. The Phoenix Fire Wire, guided by Tang San's skill, slammed into the layered defense.
The outer layers were instantly incinerated, but they bought a precious fraction of a second. The next layer followed, then the next. The sheer volume of the shields resisted the flames just long enough. Under the cover of the burning smoke and chaotic energy, Zhang Tian leaped clear, twisting in mid-air to avoid the last of Tang San's parasitic vines.
He landed, his posture calm, but he knew he was on the defensive. He was being completely and utterly suppressed. He couldn't attack, he could only react.
It was in this precise moment that the tide of the entire battle shifted irrevocably.
A black shadow, moving with a speed that was almost impossible to follow, slammed into Ma Hongjun from his blind side.
It was Zhu Zhuqing. Having seen Zhang Tian's predicament, she had abandoned her standoff with Dai Mubai, trusting Ning Rongrong to handle him, and had used her buffed speed to cross the field in the blink of an eye.
"You disgusting fatty! Your opponent is me!" she hissed, her voice dripping with contempt.
Ma Hongjun, who had been completely focused on the high-stakes game of cat and mouse with Zhang Tian, let out a yelp of pure shock. "Where did you come from?!"
He had no time to formulate a response. Zhu Zhuqing was a whirlwind of lethal grace. 'Phantom Pounce!' she thought, leaping into the air. A series of rapid, blurring kicks and vicious claw strikes rained down upon the portly phoenix.
Ma Hongjun, in his panic, reacted purely on instinct. His second spirit ring flared. "Bathing Fire Phoenix!"
His entire body was instantly engulfed in a raging inferno, a defensive aura of swirling flames that increased the power of his fire abilities by thirty percent. Zhu Zhuqing's initial assault of kicks and claws bounced off the fiery shield.
The sheer heat was immense, forcing her to disengage and retreat several meters, her skin tingling from the proximity to the intense flames.
"Hah! You can't touch me, little cat!" Ma Hongjun cackled, his confidence surging back now that his primary defense was active. He turned his attention fully to her and unleashed another Phoenix Fire Wire, this one visibly thicker and more intense thanks to his second ability's buff.
Zhu Zhuqing didn't meet it head-on. She was a blur, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground as she executed her next move. 'Silent Shadow Step!'
She moved in a series of sharp, unpredictable zig-zags. Her path was erratic, impossible to predict. The fire line traced her movements, always scorching the ground where she had been a half-second before. It was a dance of death, and she was leading. In an instant, she had closed the distance again.
Ma Hongjun tried to create distance, but her speed, amplified by Ning Rongrong's support, was simply too great. He was an artillery piece, and she was a guided missile that had just slipped past his defenses.
"You little bitch!" he snarled, realizing his predicament. He tried to pivot and unleash another fire line, but she was already upon him.
'Reaping Claw Dance!' Zhu Zhuqing spun like a top, becoming a vortex of black fur and shredding claws. She slammed directly into his fiery aura.
The flames licked at her, singing the very air, but her own spirit power, focused and controlled, formed a protective barrier around her.
Her claws tore violently at his flame shield. Sparks flew everywhere in a shower of gold and black.
The fire shield, designed to ward off attacks, flickered violently under the sustained, multi-hit assault. It wavered, dimmed, and then died with a pathetic fizzle.
Zhu Zhuqing's claws struck home. She didn't aim for a vital spot; this was a spar, not an execution. A powerful, open-palmed strike, reinforced with her spirit power, slammed into his chest. The air was knocked from his lungs in a pained gasp. His eyes went wide with shock and pain.
Ma Hongjun was defeated. He staggered backward, his spirit possession fading as the flames around him extinguished. He crashed to the ground in a heap and fell unconscious. One down.
With the Fatty out of the fight, the entire dynamic of the battlefield fractured and reformed.
Ning Rongrong, who had been masterfully leading the furious Dai Mubai on a merry chase, had finally reached her destination. She had guided him right into the heart of the battlefield, right where she wanted him.
"Zhang Tian! Now!" she yelled, her voice filled with triumphant glee.
Zhang Tian didn't need to be told. With Ma Hongjun's fire suppression gone, he was finally unleashed. His second spirit ring, a vibrant yellow, flared to life with an intensity it hadn't shown before. "Parasitic Spores!"
A dense, invisible cloud of spores washed over the entire central area of the field. Instantly, the ground erupted. A veritable forest of Blood Silver Grass shot up, a massive, sprawling network that covered everything in a sea of crimson.
The grass then began to move. 'Self-Created Spirit Skill: Crimson Tsunami!'
The entire field of grass rose up like a massive, rolling red wave and crashed down upon the unsuspecting Dai Mubai. He had been so focused on Ning Rongrong that he hadn't seen the trap spring until it was too late. He roared as he was caught in the tidal wave of vines, his charge halted, his entire body entangled and overwhelmed by the sheer mass of the attack.
Zhu Zhuqing, seeing her moment, her body still glowing with Ning Rongrong's buffs, moved to intercept him. The final duels were set.
On one side, it was the buffed Zhu Zhuqing, supported by Ning Rongrong and Zhang Tian's battlefield control, versus the ensnared but powerful Dai Mubai. On the other, the main event.
Zhang Tian versus Tang San.
"It's just you and me now, Tang San," Zhang Tian said, his voice as calm as a placid lake.
"That's all I need," Tang San replied, his expression grim. His teammates had fallen, but his own pride would not allow him to yield.
What followed was a masterclass in control-type spirit master combat. Tang San moved with the ethereal grace of the Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track, his feet barely touching the ground as he weaved through the crimson forest his rival had created.
His Blue Silver Grass was a constant, probing threat, lashing out like whips, forming nets, trying to find a chink in Zhang Tian's armor.
Zhang Tian countered with his own unique, explosive footwork. He didn't glide; he burst. He would use a vine to launch himself, then another to change direction in mid-air, his movements sudden and unpredictable.
His Blood Silver Grass erupted in sudden, violent bursts, clashing with Tang San's blue vines.
"Third Spirit Ring! Miasma Pulse Root!" Tang San commanded, deciding to bring out his trump card. His third ring, a deep and menacing purple, pulsed with power. A wave of faint, sickly purple energy pulsed through his own binding vines as they snaked towards Zhang Tian. This wasn't just a binding attack; it was poison. A paralytic neurotoxin that would disable on contact.
Zhang Tian didn't evade. He allowed Tang San's poisoned vines to make contact with his own. The moment the poison touched his Blood Silver Grass, he felt the nauseating, debilitating effect try to creep up the connection to his spirit.
'Devour!' he commanded internally. His first spirit ring glowed faintly.
The potent poison was instantly siphoned from the point of contact, drawn deep into the specific vines that had been touched, isolating it completely.
Then, with a mere thought, he severed the connection between those tainted vines and his main spirit body. They fell to the ground, withering into black, foul-smelling dust in a matter of seconds. The poison was neutralized.
Tang San stared, his eyes wide with disbelief. 'He can just… absorb the poison and discard the affected parts of his spirit? That's… a perfect counter. My poison is useless against him.'
The fight escalated, a blur of blue and red. Vines clashed in a constant, violent struggle. Tang San's Blue Silver Grass was tougher, more resilient on a one-to-one basis. But Zhang Tian's was more versatile, capable of sprouting from any surface touched by his spores, and each strand carried that insidious draining effect.
Zhang Tian lashed out. 'Viper's Kiss Strike!' A single, thick vine consolidated, its tip hardening into a sharp, spear-like point, and shot towards Tang San. Tang San's hands glowed with the light of the Mysterious Jade Hand, and he skillfully deflected the blow.
In response, Zhang Tian changed tactics. 'Thousand Crimson Needles!' Hundreds of his vines shed their tips, which hardened and shot through the air like a rain of senbon. Tang San was forced into a defensive posture, using his Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track to its absolute limit to weave through the deadly storm, his Mysterious Jade Hands slapping away any needles that came too close.
But with every clash, every block, every moment their spirits touched, even through the medium of Tang San's Blue Silver Grass, Zhang Tian's 'Devour' ability was working its silent, inexorable magic.
He was draining Tang San's spirit power, drop by precious, irreplaceable drop.
---
On the other side of the field, the battle for Dai Mubai's pride was reaching its own brutal climax. He had managed to tear himself free from the main bulk of the Crimson Tsunami, but he was weakened, his spirit power drained by the effort, and he was now facing a relentless assault from a fully buffed Zhu Zhuqing, who was being expertly assisted by Zhang Tian's periodic binding vines.
"White Tiger Intense Light Wave!" Dai Mubai roared, firing a desperate blast from his mouth, hoping to create some space.
Zhu Zhuqing, with her enhanced speed and perception, dodged it with contemptuous ease, the ball of light sailing past her. "You're too slow," she taunted, her voice cold.
"Don't get cocky!" he snarled. "Third Spirit Ability! White Tiger Vajra Transformation!"
His purple spirit ring erupted with magnificent light. His already formidable muscles bulged even further, and his white fur took on a distinct, metallic golden sheen. His defense, attack power, and strength all increased by a staggering fifty percent. This was the power of a thousand-year spirit ring.
"Too weak," she replied, unimpressed. Her own claws began to glow with a dark, menacing light as her second spirit ring activated. "Second Spirit Ability! Hell Hundred Claws!"
She met his charge head-on. Her smaller frame moved with deceptive power, a testament to Ning Rongrong's thirty percent buff. Her claws, now empowered by her spirit ability, raked across his golden-hued aura.
This time, they didn't just bounce off. They left shallow but stinging wounds, drawing beads of blood.
He tried to grab her, to use his superior size and strength to crush her, but just as his paws were about to close around her, a crimson vine would shoot out from the ground, wrap around her waist, and pull her out of reach with a sharp tug. He roared in frustration and tried to retreat to regroup, but a cage of red vines would erupt from the ground, blocking his path. He was being toyed with, dismantled piece by piece by the coordinated efforts of the three.
"Stand still and fight me!" he bellowed, his pride in tatters.
With a final, desperate roar, he lunged, pouring all his remaining power into one last charge. Zhu Zhuqing met him without an ounce of fear. 'Reaping Claw Dance!'
She became a spinning vortex of death once more. The clash was brief and brutal. The sound of shredding claws against transforming flesh filled the air. Dai Mubai was thrown back, his powerful Vajra Transformation flickering and dying. He landed in a heap, his body covered in dozens of shallow cuts, his spirit possession fading. He was defeated, unconscious.
Two down.
Now, it was just Tang San. He stood alone, facing his rival. He could feel his own spirit power flagging dangerously, the constant, subtle drain from Zhang Tian's attacks taking its toll. He had been outmaneuvered, his poison neutralized, his control matched and surpassed.
Zhang Tian stood opposite him, his breathing steady, his posture radiating a calm, unshakable confidence. "Do you still wish to continue, Tang San?" he asked, his voice even, not with arrogance, but with a simple statement of fact.
Tang San stared at the unconscious forms of his two teammates. He looked at Zhang Tian, at the unwavering certainty in his blue eyes. He knew. In a battle of their primary spirits, he had lost. His team had been systematically and brilliantly dismantled.
A thought, a desperate, powerful temptation, rose unbidden in his mind. 'My hammer… with the Clear Sky Hammer, I could still win. Its sheer, domineering power… he shouldn't be able to block it.'
His left hand, hidden behind his back, twitched. A faint, heavy black light, imbued with an ancient and tyrannical aura, began to coalesce in his palm.
Just as he was about to make a decision that would change everything, a voice cut through the tense air, sharp and final.
"That's enough."
It was Yu Xiaogang. He stepped onto the field, his face a grim, stony mask. He looked at his defeated students, then at the victorious trio. His gaze lingered on his prized disciple, at the swirling black light hidden in his hand, and he knew instantly what Tang San was about to do. He could not allow it. The Clear Sky Hammer was a secret that could not be revealed here.
He raised his hand. "We admit defeat."
The words were a death knell to the fight. Tang San let the burgeoning power in his hand dissipate, the black light fading into nothing. A wave of profound disappointment, mixed with a hot surge of anger, washed over him. He had lost.
He looked at Zhang Tian, and the grudging admiration he had felt for his rival's skill was consumed by a bitter, burning resentment.
'This isn't my loss,' he thought, his mind already constructing the narrative that would protect his fragile, prodigious pride. 'I didn't lose to him. My teammates were incompetent. Dai Mubai was reckless and failed to even deal with a support type Spirit Master like Ning Rongrong. And that Fatty was taken out too easily. They were useless. If I had better partners, if I had just a little more time to wear him down, I would have won. Next time… next time, I won't lose.'
He glared at Zhang Tian, a silent promise of future conflict burning in his eyes.
The friendly spar was over. But a new, far more dangerous battle had just begun.
Chapter 37: Victory Party And Intimacy At NightThe silence on the training field was a heavy, suffocating blanket. It was a silence filled with the ghosts of shattered pride and the stark, undeniable truth of a humiliating defeat. Yu Xiaogang's declaration of surrender echoed in the ears of his students, each word a branding iron searing the mark of failure onto their souls.
Zhang Tian offered a final, polite nod to the Grandmaster, his expression betraying neither triumph nor arrogance. It was a simple, clinical acknowledgement. He turned, and without a backward glance, walked away from the field of his victory.
Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing immediately fell into step beside him, their loyalty a visible, tangible thing. They didn't gloat. They didn't cheer. They simply flanked him, a silent, unified front, and the three of them departed, leaving the fractured remains of the Shrek team to lick their wounds in the shadow of their teacher's failed strategy.
The moment they were gone, the dam of stunned silence broke.
"Third Brother!" Xiao Wu rushed to Tang San's side, her pretty face a mask of furious indignation. "You fought so well! It wasn't your fault at all!"
Oscar nodded vigorously, hurrying over with a look of genuine concern. "That's right, Xiao San! You were amazing! It's just… their teamwork was too weird! And that Zhang Tian, his spirit is just a freakish counter to yours!"
Xiao Wu's gaze, filled with venom, shifted to the two unconscious forms still lying on the ground. "It was their fault!" she declared, pointing an accusatory finger. "They're completely useless! Especially you, Dai Mubai!" she kicked his limp form lightly, her anger needing a physical outlet. "You're a Spirit Elder, and you couldn't even handle a little support master like Rongrong! She ran circles around you and made you look like a complete fool! If it had been me, I would have taken her out in ten seconds!"
She then glared at the portly, snoring form of Ma Hongjun. "And you! You got beaten so fast by Zhuqing! How are you supposed to be a phoenix spirit user? You're more like a fat, plucked chicken! How was my Third Brother supposed to win when his teammates are a degenerate, brainless tiger and a useless lustful, fat chicken?!"
Her blunt, childishly cruel words, surprisingly, were a strange sort of comfort to Tang San. They mirrored the very excuses that were already taking root in his own mind, validating the narrative of his blameless defeat. He felt the hot sting of his anger and humiliation begin to cool, replaced by a more familiar, righteous indignation.
"Xiao Wu, that's enough," he said, though his voice lacked any real reprimand. "But… you're not wrong. Still," he added, a grim look on his face as he forced himself to acknowledge the bitter truth, "we can't forget that Boss Mubai and I are both Spirit Elders. Zhang Tian, Rongrong, and Zhuqing are all just Spirit Grandmasters. For them to defeat us so decisively… their strength truly cannot be taken lightly."
Yu Xiaogang stepped forward then, his face a stony mask, though a flicker of deep, analytical thought burned behind his spectacles. "Xiao San," he began, his voice its usual flat monotone, "let's analyze the battle. Your initial strategy was sound. The pincer movement between your control and Hongjun's fire suppression should have been effective."
He paused, his brow furrowing. "The first unexpected variable was Zhang Tian's ability to neutralize your Miasma Pulse Root. He seems to be able to absorb the poison into his vines and then sever them from his main body, sacrificing a small amount of spirit power to negate the attack completely. It's an ingenious, if wasteful, method. We did not account for that."
His gaze shifted. "The second, and perhaps more critical, failure was on Mubai's front. We severely underestimated the effectiveness of Ning Rongrong's evasive training. Her ability to not only survive but to actively kite a superior opponent was the turning point. It disrupted our formation and allowed Zhu Zhuqing the freedom to flank and eliminate Hongjun."
He looked at Tang San again. "And finally, Zhu Zhuqing. Her self-created spirit skills are surprisingly potent. They are fluid and efficient, lacking the rigidity of standard spirit ring abilities. Her combat power, especially when amplified by Rongrong's support, is far greater than her spirit rank would suggest."
Flender, Zhao Wuji, and the other teachers had gathered around, their own faces grim. "Don't be too discouraged, Xiao San," Flender said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "There's always a next time. Now that you know their tricks, you'll be prepared."
"That's right," Zhao Wuji rumbled. "A loss can be a better teacher than a hundred victories. It shows you where you are weak."
Yu Xiaogang nodded, his mind already formulating a new, more brutal training regimen. "Indeed. And we have identified a clear weakness: your physical conditioning is still insufficient. Starting tomorrow, all of you," he looked at Tang San, Xiao Wu, and Oscar, "will begin gravity training under Teacher Zhao's supervision. We will forge your bodies until they are as resilient as tempered steel."
With a nod from the Grandmaster, Zhao Wuji and Flender moved to collect the two unconscious students, hauling the heavy forms of Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun over their shoulders like sacks of potatoes and carrying them towards the medical hut. The other teachers dispersed, leaving Yu Xiaogang alone with his prized disciple.
Once they were certain they were out of earshot, the Grandmaster's stiff posture relaxed fractionally. "Do not let this defeat weigh on you, Xiao San," he said, his voice losing some of its clinical coldness. "Zhang Tian's victory was a fluke, a combination of unexpected tactics and your teammates' incompetence. Your true advantage is not something he can ever hope to overcome."
Tang San looked at his teacher, a flicker of his earlier desperation returning. "But Teacher, if I could just use my other spirit… with the Clear Sky Hammer, I know I could defeat him. Why can't I add rings to it? It would make everything so much easier."
Yu Xiaogang looked at his disciple, a faint, fond smile touching his lips. "Foolish child. You are still looking at the surface. Tell me, what do you believe is the greatest advantage of possessing Twin Martial Spirits?"
Tang San answered without hesitation, repeating the common wisdom. "The abilities of two spirits. One spirit can at most only have nine spirit rings, which is also nine abilities. But I have two spirits, so it's eighteen abilities."
The Grandmaster's brows furrowed, but his smile remained. "Foolish kid, fortunately you have me to learn from. Why can't you still see it clearly? Correct, after twin spirits have cultivated to the Title Douluo realm, they can indeed possess eighteen spirit rings, eighteen spirit abilities. But, you've forgotten, even though you have twin spirits, you can only use one spirit at a time. In other words, at most you can only use nine spirit rings at the same time, that's all. Even though you can change a bit more than ordinary Spirit Masters, is this the mystery of twin spirits? Then you are underestimating the gift of twin spirits too much."
A look of dawning enlightenment crossed Tang San's face. "Teacher, you mean to say… "
Yu Xiaogang nodded, his eyes gleaming with the fervor of a theorist explaining his magnum opus. "I am advocating having you first cultivate your Blue Silver Grass, is because it's inferior to the Clear Sky Hammer. The greatest advantage of twin spirits is the ability to first cultivate one spirit. Even though your Clear Sky Hammer doesn't have any spirit rings at present, your spirit power has already reached the thirty fourth rank. Think about it. If you right now began to add spirit rings to your Clear Sky Hammer, then what level of spirit rings would that be? Thousand year. But what if your Blue Silver Grass first reaches the Title Douluo level, and then you add spirit rings to the Clear Sky Hammer? What level then?"
He leaned in, his voice dropping to an intense, conspiratorial whisper. "My goal is to create an unimaginable existence with all spirit rings over ten thousand years. But these circumstances can only appear with a Spirit Master with twin spirits. Your other spirit is Blue Silver Grass, I don't expect you to cultivate to the ninetieth rank, but as long as you can cultivate to the sixtieth rank or higher, then, in the future it will be possible to create an all ten thousand year spirit ring Clear Sky Hammer. At that time, let alone one Title Douluo, even two at once, how might they be your opponents? Equally at the ninetieth rank, relying on your nine ten thousand year spirit rings to add all sorts of attributes, how could an ordinary Spirit Master compare? This is my true goal."
He straightened up, his explanation delivered. "Right now my sole worry is whether your two spirits will come into conflict when you start adding spirit rings to the Clear Sky Hammer. In Spirit Master history, you are the third person to possess twin spirits. We're not the only smart people, and if we've thought of something, then others have thought of it too. The first Spirit Master to possess twin spirits came to an extremely miserable end. When he added spirit rings to his second spirit, after adding the third, the two spirits came into conflict, bursting his body. But the second person to possess twin spirits was successful, becoming a power unprecedented in history. In other words, according to this cultivation method with twin spirits, the probability of success is fifty percent."
He placed a reassuring hand on Tang San's shoulder. "Perhaps your odds are a bit higher, after all, even until now your Clear Sky Hammer and Blue Silver Grass haven't shown any signs of conflict. I've been constantly researching this question over these years, how to add spirit rings to your Clear Sky Hammer in the future so that they don't come into conflict."
"Not letting people know about the twin spirits is out of fear that some formidable spirit master will take a detrimental interest in you. Having you first cultivate Blue Silver Grass is a method to let you become even stronger. Now you understand. As for what to choose in the future, that is up to you."
Under his teacher's detailed, breathtaking explanation, Tang San's last vestiges of doubt and resentment were washed away. He felt a profound, renewed sense of purpose. His defeat was insignificant. It was a single, lost battle in a war he was destined to win. His future was a glorious, sunlit path, and his teacher was the wise, infallible guide who would lead him there.
Far from the grim post-mortems and grand theorizing, a very different atmosphere prevailed. Laughter, bright and unrestrained, echoed through the quiet woods as Zhang Tian's victorious trio made their way back to their luxurious quarters.
Ning Rongrong was practically skipping, her earlier nervousness completely gone, replaced by the pure, unadulterated joy of victory. "Did you see his face?!" she giggled, recounting Dai Mubai's futile chase for the tenth time. "He looked like a big, stupid cat chasing a laser pointer! And the way you took out that fatty, Zhuqing! Pow! Right in the chest! It was amazing!"
Zhu Zhuqing, for her part, was a portrait of quiet satisfaction. A small, rare smile played on her lips. The victory was sweet, but the feeling of finally, definitively, defeating her arrogant fiancé was a pleasure far deeper, a validation of her own strength and her decision to break away from him. Her gaze kept drifting to Zhang Tian, her dark eyes filled with a fervent, secret admiration. It was all because of him. His training, his strategy, his unwavering support. He was the architect of her triumph.
"You were both magnificent today," Zhang Tian said, his voice warm with genuine pride. "I am very pleased. But," he added, a familiar, serious note entering his tone, "we maintain this pace. We increase the complexity. This is just the beginning." He paused, a grin spreading across his face. "But that is for tomorrow. For tonight, we celebrate. We're going to Suotuo City for a victory party. My treat."
"Yes!" Ning Rongrong cheered.
As they walked, a quiet conversation took place in Zhang Tian's mind.
'Why didn't you beat him more?' Ah Yin's voice was a low, cold current beneath the surface of his thoughts. 'That imposter. You had him. You could have injured him. Humiliated him more.'
'Patience, Ah Yin,' he projected back, his mental voice a soothing balm. 'The time for that will come. A simple physical defeat is meaningless to someone with his arrogance. Our revenge must be more subtle. More… complete. Trust me. When the time is right, I will make him suffer in ways he cannot even imagine.'
Ah Yin fell silent, her trust in him absolute. She then changed the subject, her voice softening with a hint of hopeful anticipation. 'What about my recovery, Zhang Tian? When can we begin? I long to have a body again. To walk in the sun, to feel the wind… to be with you.'
'I am thinking of it constantly,' he assured her. 'For that, we will need treasures. Herbs of heaven and earth. And to acquire those, I must first grow stronger myself. I need to reach Level 30. I need to acquire my third spirit ring. Only then will I have the power to acquire that treasure. Be patient a little longer, my Empress. Our time will come.'
The victory party was a glorious, indulgent affair. They descended upon Suotuo City like conquering heroes, their first stop being the most exclusive boutiques and jewelry stores the city had to offer.
"Don't worry about the cost!" Ning Rongrong declared, her silver storage pouch containing a black card that had more than million gold coins. "My father gives me a lot of allowance! This is my treat! To celebrate our victory, and to thank you both!"
What followed was a whirlwind of shopping. Ning Rongrong, with her impeccable taste, flitted from shop to shop, picking out exquisite dresses of silk and satin for herself and Zhu Zhuqing. She insisted on buying them matching sets of clothes, from elegant evening gowns to practical, stylish training gear.
"This one would look stunning on you, Zhuqing!" she'd exclaim, holding up a deep crimson dress that would perfectly complement her dark hair and snow white skin.
Zhu Zhuqing, who had likely never spent a single moment of her life on such frivolous pursuits, was at first hesitant, but Ning Rongrong's infectious enthusiasm was impossible to resist. Soon, she found herself tentatively trying on outfits, a small, shy smile appearing on her face as she saw her own reflection, not as a hunted fugitive, but as a beautiful young woman.
They bought delicate, silver hairpins carved in the shape of phoenixes, and necklaces with shimmering, deep blue sapphires that matched Zhang Tian's eyes. Ning Rongrong even insisted on buying Zhang Tian a new set of elegant, dark blue robes, claiming his current ones were "too plain for someone so handsome."
Laden with their new purchases, they descended upon the city's finest restaurant. They were given the best private room, one with a balcony overlooking the bustling night-time city. They ordered with abandon: roasted spirit beast steaks, rare seafood delicacies from the southern coasts, fine wines that tasted of sunshine and summer berries.
They ate and drank, their conversation filled with laughter and easy camaraderie. They were no longer just teammates; they were friends, a small, tight-knit family forged in the crucible of shared struggle and victory.
As the night deepened, they retired to a luxurious suite in the city's grandest hotel, a single, sprawling room with three soft, inviting beds and a large, comfortable sitting area.
The celebration was far from over. Ning Rongrong produced a deck of playing cards, and they settled onto the plush carpet for a series of lighthearted games. The initial games of strategy and skill soon devolved into something far more chaotic.
Losing a round meant a "punishment," which usually involved a bout of merciless tickling. Soon, the room was filled with shrieks of laughter as they chased each other around, the card game completely forgotten.
A full-blown pillow fight erupted, feathers flying through the air like a sudden, soft snowstorm. Ning Rongrong, with a mischievous giggle, teamed up with Zhu Zhuqing, and they launched a coordinated assault on Zhang Tian, who defended himself with practiced ease, laughing as he easily fended off their attacks.
It was during this chaotic, joyful play that Zhu Zhuqing's actions became more subtle, more… deliberate.
As they wrestled for a pillow, she would "accidentally" stumble, her full, soft breasts pressing against his arm. When he managed to pin her down in a playful headlock, she would squirm, her curvaceous hips brushing against his in a way that was just a little too intimate to be entirely accidental. Ning Rongrong, lost in the fun of the game, noticed nothing.
But Zhang Tian noticed everything. He felt the soft pressure of her body, the subtle invitations in her movements. He saw the way her dark eyes would flash with a secret, seductive light when Ning Rongrong wasn't looking. He played along, his own touches lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary, his hand "accidentally" brushing against the curve of her waist or the swell of her hip. It was a silent, thrilling game they were playing, a secret dance of burgeoning desire right under their friend's innocent nose.
Finally, utterly exhausted and breathless with laughter, they called a truce. One by one, they took turns in the luxurious bathroom, washing away the sweat and feathers of their mock battle.
When it was time for bed, Ning Rongrong emerged in a new set of pajamas, a cute, sky-blue ensemble adorned with fluffy white clouds. Her hair was still slightly damp, and with her face scrubbed clean of the day's grime, she looked impossibly young and adorable. Zhang Tian felt a wave of protective affection wash over him.
Zhu Zhuqing emerged last. She wore the new pajamas she had purchased that day. They were made of the finest, sheerest black silk, clinging to her body like a second skin. The top was a simple camisole with thin spaghetti straps, its neckline plunging daringly low, revealing the deep, shadowed valley between her large, perfect breasts. The bottoms were a pair of short, tight-fitting shorts that did little to hide the alluring curve of her buttocks and the long, elegant line of her thighs. She had even put on the long, black silk stockings she usually wears, the material stretching taut over her toned calves. She was a vision of pure, unadulterated sensuality.
Zhang Tian felt his breath catch in his throat. He was a man from a modern world, a man who had seen his share of beautiful women. But he had never seen anyone who embodied such a perfect, lethal combination of innocence and raw, sexual power.
They climbed into the massive bed, a wide, comfortable expanse of soft linens and plush pillows. As they had before, Zhang Tian lay in the middle, Ning Rongrong on his left, and Zhu Zhuqing on his right.
Ning Rongrong, completely spent from the day's excitement, was asleep within minutes, her breathing soft and even.
The room fell silent, the only sound the gentle rustle of the sheets. And then, Zhang Tian felt it. A soft, warm pressure against his side.
Zhu Zhuqing had moved, pressing her body against his, leaving no space between them. He felt the soft swell of her breast against his arm, the curve of her hip against his own. A delicate, black-stocking-clad leg slid over his, her movements slow and deliberate.
She knew he was awake. His breathing had changed, a subtle quickening that betrayed his own racing heart.
A soft, warm hand snaked around his waist, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his athletic torso.
"Thank you," a voice whispered, so soft it was almost a thought in the quiet room. "For today. For everything."
He turned his head slightly, his face just inches from hers in the dim moonlight. "You earned it, Zhuqing," he whispered back.
She moved closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "Beating him… it doesn't solve everything," she confessed, her voice a low, intimate murmur. "I still have to face my sister. His brother. But now… for the first time… it doesn't feel impossible. As long as you are by my side."
She took his hand and guided it, placing it firmly on her slender waist. It was an invitation. A permission.
He was a man, not a saint. The temptation was overwhelming. His hand, as if with a mind of its own, began to move, tracing the breathtaking curve of her hip, his fingers dipping into the small of her back before gliding upwards.
He could feel her shudder at his touch. His hand continued its exploration, moving to her side, his thumb brushing against the underside of her breast. He felt her nipple harden against the silk of her camisole.
He pulled her closer, his other arm wrapping around her, their bodies now flush against each other in a tight, intimate embrace. He could feel the soft, full weight of her breasts pressing into his chest.
She let out a soft, breathy sound, a mixture of a gasp and a moan. "Mmmph…"
She tilted her head, and he felt the soft, wet touch of her lips against his neck, a series of small, exploratory kisses that sent a jolt of pure electricity through him. Her lips moved to his cheek, then to the corner of his mouth.
He turned his head, and their lips met.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, a question asked and answered in the silent language of touch. Then, it deepened. A wave of pent-up desire, of gratitude, of burgeoning love, poured from her into him. He responded in kind, his own attraction, his own protective affection, rising to meet hers.
His hand, which had been resting on her waist, now became more daring. It slid downwards, over the alluring curve of her buttocks, his fingers kneading the soft, firm flesh through the thin silk of her shorts. He pulled her even closer, their lower bodies pressing together, the heat between them an undeniable, palpable thing.
She moaned softly into his mouth, her own hands now busy, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.
His hand slid from her buttocks, moving under the hem of her short silk shorts, his fingers making contact with the warm, impossibly soft skin of her thigh. She gasped at the touch, her body arching against his. His hand moved higher, his fingers tracing the edge of her panties, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.
She broke the kiss, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her dark eyes shining with a desire so intense it was almost frightening.
"More," she whispered, her voice husky, a plea and a command in one. "I want to be closer to you, Zhang Tian. Even closer."
She nibbled at his earlobe, then licked a hot trail down his neck, her actions sending shivers down his spine.
His hand, which had been hesitating, now moved with a new confidence. It slipped past the delicate lace barrier of her panties, his fingers finding the warm, wet heat of her core.
She let out a sharp, stifled gasp, her body going rigid for a second before melting against him completely. She buried her face in his neck, her own moans muffled against his skin, trying desperately not to wake the innocent princess sleeping just a few inches away.
His fingers began a slow, deliberate exploration, and the room was filled with the soft, secret sounds of their moans. It was a cozy, intimate night, a silent promise made under the watchful, silver eye of the moon.