[Ding! Congratulations to the host: reward received. Sword-type soul guide crafting method acquired. First three spirit rings upgraded to 10,000 years!]
Xiao Tian: …
He was momentarily stunned.
Wait—why? He had clearly pulled back against Zhu Zhuqing. That blow had been deliberately lighter, and yet the system still rewarded him as though he had triumphed in earnest.
This tongzi system of his really had no shame!
A full manual of sword-type soul guides immediately poured into his mind. Their names, ranks, and descriptions scrolled across his consciousness like an endless catalogue.
First-ranked Sword Soul Guide: The Chumang Sword.
Second-ranked Sword Soul Guide: The Lightning Sword.
Eighth-ranked Sword Soul Guide: The Sword of Judgment.
He glanced through them with fleeting curiosity, but soon his excitement soured. These were nice. Fascinating even. But—he had no idea how to use them in reality.
"Great. A library of toys that can't be assembled, let alone wielded…"
He sighed inwardly. For now, this would have to sit in his Xuanyuan Ring, catching dust until the day he had the time or tools to experiment.
…
He stepped back into the courtyard where everyone still buzzed from his exchange with Zhu Zhuqing. Their eyes naturally gravitated toward him. Xiao Tian cleared his throat lightly and spoke, voice even but carrying through the air:
"Just now, thanks to Grandpa Jian's inspiration, I comprehended a new sword intent—the Slow Sword Intent. When my sword energy or my blade carries this sword will, it inflicts a slowing effect. And yes, it can stack."
The courtyard froze.
Everyone: ???
Ning Rongrong clutched her little hands to her mouth, shocked. "Xiao Tian! Isn't that like… like a support skill? How… how can a sword technique create something like this?"
Chen Xin himself arched his brows, genuine curiosity coloring his stern gaze. For a man who had wielded swords for nearly a century, he knew better than anyone—attributing qualities to sword intent wasn't trivial. His own Seven Killing Sword Intent had come dripping only after decades of slaughter, when each swing had soaked in blood. But Xiao Tian? With just reflection?
Where did this boy's attribute come from?
As though sensing everyone's confusion, Xiao Tian's face remained steady. "I believe I mentioned before—my fourth soul skill increases my own attack speed. Then logically, there must exist its opposite. Extracting that inverse property from my own soul energy—was it not only natural to realize a Sword of Slowing?"
His words slipped out with utter conviction, spoken as if it were perfectly reasonable.
Even Da Ming, listening quietly through the spiritual contract, darkened at the edges of his consciousness.
"…This kid is really something else. Nonsense, spouted with confidence. Everyone just swallows it whole!"
Er Ming snorted in the background. "He's obviously leaning on his Slow Field abilities. As if anyone could just tear attributes out of their opposite soul skill! Ridiculous."
But Chen Xin's sharp eyes trembled again. The answer seemed… genius. He was once again struck dumb by Xiao Tian's sheer grasp of the sword.
It didn't matter if he doubted it inside—just believing a boy could so casually rationalize something so profound shook his understanding.
This child. I must befriend him no matter what. Tang San's weapons are trivial. But Xiao Tian? If disaster ever strikes Qibao Liuli Sect, perhaps he could turn the tide.
…
Xiao Tian himself felt satisfaction well in his chest. Now that attributes could be infused into sword intent, he must think strategically for the future. When choosing spirit rings later, why not deliberately hunt those carrying fire or ice properties? Let their attribute seep into his intent, compounding into elemental blades.
Already, under the aid of Da Ming and Er Ming's power, he could channel two forms—Slow Sword Intent, and a nascent Gravity Sword Intent.
Though the gravity version still lurked incomplete, Xiao Tian could sense its future—an intent capable of distorting weight itself, pulling enemies into oppressive domains. One day, it would be real.
…
At this moment, Flender descended into the grounds, jade jar in hand, his owl-feather cloak flapping nervously. His face wore the look of a man perpetually in pain.
Originally, he had wanted to stay hidden. As long as a Titled Douluo lingered—especially one as prickly as Chen Xin—better not to step forward and attract ire. But watching the courtyard's energy surge, he couldn't maintain it any longer.
He landed awkwardly and forced a laugh. "Heheh… Senior Jian Douluo, what happened here? The aura just now… quite fierce?"
Chen Xin didn't even mask his glare. "Nothing much. Xiao Tian merely had a… small breakthrough in his sword realm."
Flender: "…"
Small?!
Since when were breakthroughs in sword realm spoken of so casually? Did this old monster think everyone advanced sword intent like sipping afternoon tea?
Flender's heart bled bitterly. Why does it feel like in Shrek, Xiao Tian's breakthroughs come as easily as eating or drinking... How do you even manage that, boy?!
Nearby, Yu Xiaogang's scholarly eyes glinted unnervingly. Suspicion nagged in his blood. He had thought Tang San his greatest find—perfect martial spirit, top-tier inheritance. Yet Xiao Tian's overwhelming growth gnawed at his faith daily.
Could it be that Xiao Tian was a hidden genius buried deeper than Tang San? If so, cultivating him as a disciple would…
Perhaps I should slowly draw him in. Make him mine.
Even Yu Xiaogang began scheming.
…
Chen Xin interrupted sharply, focusing instead on Flender.
"Flender. Tell me, what is your next training plan for these children?"
Flender's back stiffened. He forced out the neat script. "We… plan to give them three days' rest. Afterwards, we take them to Soto City, to train in the Great Fighting Spirit Arena."
Chen Xin's brows furrowed. His voice cooled noticeably. "Hmph. Xiao Tian, at his level, already surpasses Shrek's posted standards for graduation. Surely he could just walk away today. Why waste his time here?"
Flender nearly choked on the spot. Sweat trickled down his temple.
"Senior Sword Douluo, you may not know… Our Shrek Academy enforces two graduation standards. The first—you must reach level 40 before twenty years old. Yes, Xiao Tian has surpassed it. But the second? A student must also obtain the Silver Fighting Spirit Badge at the Great Arena."
Chen Xin's stern eyes narrowed dangerously. "Flander… is this a jest?"
Flender's owlish feathers shivered. Help. HELP!
"No! Not at all!" he rasped frantically. "If you don't believe me—ask Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun. They've already accumulated points toward their badge!"
The Sword Douluo's gaze swiveled, sharp as knife tips.
"And the food-type soul master? Oscar? How many points does he have?"
Flender's heart nearly stopped. He cursed inside. This old man's questions always pierce weaknesses like swords! He's deliberately targeting me!
Before Flender could stammer an excuse, Yu Xiaogang slid smoothly forward, his expression composed.
"Senior Sword Douluo. Even as an auxiliary, Oscar must still receive his Silver Badge. He may partner in teams—thus qualifying through victories accumulated. Until now, we focused on smaller matches. Proper arena training begins in three days. If our group maintains winning streaks, they'll reach the requirement within weeks easily."
His explanation was reasonable, even referencing the Arena's point system.
But Oscar, puffed up now that attentions were on him, dared to boldly declare, "Senior Sword Douluo, do not underestimate me. My sausages, though unimpressive in name, have astonishing auxiliary qualities! They—"
Chen Xin cut him short with a bored glance. His tone was dry as desert bone.
"Oh? You claim your sausages are effective? Tell me, young man—could they ever compare to the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda's blessings?"
Oscar's smile froze in place. "…P-puff."
The courtyard erupted with snickers. Ning Rongrong covered her mouth, giggling with Xiao Wu beside her.
Even Dai Mubai yanked Oscar behind him, muttering through gritted teeth, "Why come out just to make yourself a joke?!"
Chen Xin's gaze slid again, this time toward Dai Mubai himself. He scanned him carefully, then Zhu Zhuqing.
Dai's Evil-Eyed White Tiger Martial Spirit, surname Dai. Zhu Zhuqing's Netherworld Cat Martial Spirit. He understood enough to piece it together—the Xingluo Empire's imperial bloodlines.
For just a moment, curiosity lit Sword Douluo's gaze. He recalled well the strange royal succession system of the Star Luo throne. The truth slipped into clarity almost instantly.
So that was why these two children were here, tucked in Heaven Dou's land.
Chen Xin withdrew his eyes quietly, his judgment clear as a closing sword-sheath. Weak. Severed inheritance.
Dai Mubai's pride boiled instantly hot. He had felt it—Sword Douluo's contempt, brief but direct. His face turned crimson, knuckles whitening, but still he bit down coldly.
Not here. Not now. Don't be impulsive.
…
Finally, Chen Xin rose, voice light but commanding.
"Very well. I will remain several days longer. Just enough to witness your progress at the Arena."
His Seven Killing Sword flashed, aura cutting clean through the air.
"It's late, Rongrong. Sleep early. Xiao Tian, I will see you tomorrow."
With a sweep of sword intent, the Super Douluo flew skyward, vanishing into the night.
But in Chen Xin's heart, new clarity had already solidified. Rinched tight into resolve.
Shrek Academy was shabby. Narrow. And wholly unworthy of Rongrong.
Better yet—why not take her away altogether?
And if possible… if Heaven smiled on his sect's fortune—perhaps even Xiao Tian could come too.
--
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