Chapter 408: Fighting Their Own Battles
"Darn, come face me!"
As soon as the duel began, Paide charged straight toward his old friend, Darn. The two of them had long been familiar with each other and had sparred many times in private, so rather than fighting a stranger, Paide preferred facing someone whose moves he already knew well.
Five spirit rings shone brightly behind him, and the instant the third one lit up, his body expanded, his muscles swelling as golden antlers sprouted from his head. With a low roar, he lunged forward, shouting, "Sweet faction, victory will be ours!"
Seeing Paide charging in so fiercely, Darn let out a cold snort and met him head-on. Under the glow of his spirit possession, a pair of long, pointed dog ears grew atop his head. His body didn't grow larger—on the contrary, it became leaner and lighter than before.
As old friends, Darn knew Paide's capabilities inside and out. Paide's martial spirit was the Golden-Horned Reindeer, a power-type assault martial spirit focused on brute strength. His own martial spirit, the Wind Hound, was an agility-type.
Normally, agility types had a natural advantage over strength types like Paide's. But Darn didn't dare underestimate him—he knew Paide possessed a particular spirit skill designed specifically to counter fast opponents, one that made him anything but easy prey.
Now, Darn's movements were blindingly fast, whipping up gusts of wind as he moved, leaving faint afterimages around Paide. As he nimbly dodged the ferocious swings of Paide's fists, his mouth was just as sharp as ever.
"You heretics of the Sweet faction—our Salty faction shall bring justice upon you!"
After several missed punches that struck nothing but air, Paide let out a low grunt.
"You're still the same as ever—always running around. So annoying."
At that moment, the fourth spirit ring behind him quietly lit up.
Here it comes!
Darn's heart tensed instantly. He could feel the air around him grow heavier, as though it had become thick and viscous. His once-agile body suddenly felt as if it had sunk into a swamp, every movement requiring far more effort.
It was Paide's fourth spirit skill—Stasis Field, the very one he had chosen specifically to restrain agility-type opponents.
As Darn's speed plummeted, Paide's massive fists came crashing down toward him, wind howling around the strike. If that hit landed cleanly, Darn would be finished.
For Paide to use his fourth spirit skill so early surprised Darn, but he wasn't caught off guard—he had already anticipated this. With a sharp shout, his third spirit ring flared, and layers of wind condensed before him, forming a nearly tangible barrier that intercepted the incoming punch.
It was Darn's Third Spirit Skill: Shield of Wind.
Under normal circumstances, this barrier would have no trouble stopping Paide's attack—but the Stasis Field interfered heavily with wind-type spirit skills. This was the best Darn could manage under such constraints.
Still, it was enough. Paide's blow, greatly weakened by the wind barrier, no longer carried the same devastating force.
Channeling spirit power into his arms, Darn crossed them in front of his chest and absorbed the impact. The strike sent him flying backward—yet with the help of the recoil, he managed to exit the range of the Stasis Field.
His arms tingled from the shock, but after a quick shake, he steadied himself. Instead of rushing back in, he began to move in circles again, constantly repositioning while hurling blades of wind from his hands to keep Paide occupied.
The Stasis Field was indeed effective against agility types—but maintaining it consumed a large amount of spirit power. Naturally, Paide couldn't sustain it indefinitely. As for Darn's wind blades, while they barely scratched him, Paide could easily smash them apart with his fists. Each time Darn tried to close in, Paide would reactivate his Stasis Field to force him back.
In this back-and-forth rhythm, neither could gain the upper hand. The two old friends were locked in a deadlock, trading blows and taunts alike.
…
"The salty faction will prevail!"
Ye Haoran shouted with conviction, his pure white wings blazing with holy light. The Divine Angel Sword in his hand swept through the air in a dazzling arc, sending out waves of radiant sword energy that cut toward his opponent.
His opponent was the weakest member of the Sweet Tofu Pudding Team—a man with no noble lineage or special background, merely a freelance spirit master who lived in Shrek City.
His name was Qiao Xuanyi, a middle-aged man in his thirties.
Facing Ye Haoran's fierce offensive, Qiao Xuanyi wielded a double-bladed battle spear, and among the four spirit rings—white, yellow, yellow, and purple—the second one lit up sharply.
He twirled his spear in a flourish, the spinning motion turning into a blade of light that instantly shattered the sky full of sword energy.
Though his spirit ring configuration wasn't ideal, the ten-level difference in spirit power and the extra spirit ring more than made up for any talent gap between him and the three-ringed Ye Haoran.
"Little Ye," Qiao Xuanyi chuckled, "this Uncle Qiao may not have much talent, but my martial spirit isn't something to underestimate. If you think you can win this easily, you're dreaming. Why don't you join me and have some sweet tofu pudding? I'm sure you'll fall in love with it."
"Not a chance." Ye Haoran gripped his sword with both hands, raising the holy blade high above his head as the third spirit ring behind him flared to life. "Savory tofu pudding is justice!"
"Tsk." Qiao Xuanyi let out a sigh as he looked at the boy before him—someone less than half his age.
As expected of a Shrek Academy student. To be able to fight him evenly at such a young age—just give him a few more years, and he'd easily surpass him.
Still, no matter how much of a genius he was, he was ten levels of spirit power below him now. If he let this brat beat him like this, he'd lose all face.
Glancing at his weapon—a double-bladed spear with one end a sharp point and the other a crescent blade—Qiao Xuanyi tightened his grip. The fourth spirit ring behind him suddenly shone brightly.
He might not have been born with great talent, but he couldn't let his family's inherited martial spirit, the Sin-Evil War Spear, go to waste!
"Sweet faction, victory!"
With the battle cry of the Sweet Tofu Team, he charged straight toward Ye Haoran without hesitation.
…
As Yun Qing extended his finger, a pillar of light instantly condensed in midair, descending upon Tang Zhong's head. Within that endless radiance of light was a scorching power like the eternal sun, twisting the very air around it.
Fourth Spirit Skill: Solar Radiance!
Faced with such an attack, Tang Zhong's expression changed dramatically, but his reaction was swift. Though his body was momentarily paralyzed by a sudden surge of numbness, his spirit power still flowed freely.
His fourth spirit ring flared once again—but this time, the ghostly vines didn't erupt from beneath Yun Qing's feet. Instead, they coiled tightly around Tang Zhong himself, forming an airtight cage that shielded him completely.
Using ghost vines for defense? A smart move—but unfortunately, his Solar Radiance wasn't only imbued with light; it also carried fire.
Yun Qing arched his brow and spoke lightly, "Fire overcomes wood. Your ghost vines won't stop this."
Inside the cocoon of his own ghost vines, Tang Zhong shuddered, shaking off the numbness caused by the lightning. Feeling the intense heat radiating from beyond the barrier, his face remained calm.
Behind him, his fifth spirit ring suddenly ignited.
Before Yun Qing's eyes, just as the blazing Solar Radiance was about to strike, the ghost vines—dark purple in hue with faint traces of gold reflected upon them—burst out with a dazzling golden light.
That brilliance burned brighter than the sun itself, momentarily dazzling Yun Qing's eyes.
Boom!
The pillar of light crashed down upon the ghost vine barrier, and the explosion of spirit power rippled violently across the entire arena.
When the blinding light finally dissipated, the ghost vine cage stood completely intact—unharmed.
"Tch," Yun Qing gave a wry laugh. "I almost forgot—you had that move."
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