"Xiao Wu!"
Flender's voice cracked through the burning quiet in the aftermath of Dai Mubai's humiliating defeat. His owl-like eyes narrowed, feathers trembling as he barked with anger.
"Why don't you know how to show mercy? You two are classmates after all!"
The words—steeped with accusation—echoed through the air.
But before Xiao Wu could open her mouth, Ning Rongrong stepped forward instantly.
"Dean, that's nonsense." Her voice was sharp, glinting like crystal shards. "This whole fight was provoked by Dai Mubai himself. His soul power is four levels higher than Xiao Wu's, and he still couldn't resist her. Tell me—who's to blame for that?"
Her delicate chin tilted stubbornly upward.
Zhu Zhuqing, who until now had been silent, finally added coldly, her voice dripping with disdain: "This is the price of years of debauchery. Everyone calls him the Lustful Tiger for a reason. How else could he be so easily bent by Xiao Wu's charm? The only explanation is that he has no resistance to temptation."
Her words were knives straight to Dai Mubai's chest.
On the ground, Oscar had already forced sausages into his mouth, jolting his body awake. Though pain wracked his frame, the fragments of his dignity blazed hotter than his wounds. When he registered Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing's remarks, his face flushed scarlet.
"Shut up!" he roared, spittle flying as pain laced his shout.
His voice cracked—and only made matters worse.
Zhu Zhuqing's lips curled slightly, her icy eyes boring into him like claws.
"You smiled while falling to Xiao Wu's charm. Still think I didn't notice? Your face gave you away—the old days, surrounded by women, must have been very comfortable, weren't they? That smirk on your lips wasn't pain. It was pleasure."
Her words landed like darts of venom. Murmurs swept the audience.
On the sidelines, Chen Xin's gaze shifted, thoughtful frost clouding it. His eyes turned on Flender, tone flat, but weighed deep.
"So this is your so-called 'academy of monsters'?" His voice was calm—yet cutting sharper than his sword. "Apart from raw soul power, where is the monstrous quality? Is this truly the standard of your Shrek? If your vision cannot look beyond energy levels, Flender… this mentality will only breed arrogance and impetuousness."
His gaze fell back on Dai Mubai, eyes flickering with faint disappointment. "As for you, calm yourself. The battle taught more than loss—it revealed your heart. Reflect."
Chen Xin's heart whispered silently: Indeed… the rumors were true. This is the useless prince cast off by Star Luo. Four levels higher than Xiao Wu, yet… nothing but defeat. Had he only reacted on time, strengthening his body instantly—he could've resisted, even if the charm still struck. But he didn't. Too careless. Too arrogant. A prince, reduced to this.
Dai Mubai ground his teeth. Rage itched to erupt, but terror chained his limbs.
This was a Titled Douluo. Sword Douluo. One loose word—lightning death.
Calm yourself. Endure. Endure. Don't provoke him.
But in the shadow of his thoughts, paranoia grew. He knows who I am. He knows I'm from Star Luo, so he's targeting me. No wonder. The royal clan has always been opposed to the Seven Treasures… this hostility is deliberate!
He swallowed bile as if to choke down his humiliation.
Flander's lips twitched, shame burning his head bow. He could not speak against Chen Xin. The Seven Treasures had once written requesting he temper Rongrong—but now that Sword Douluo himself watched, how could he? If not for the memory of Chen Xin dragging him out and beating him raw for daring sternness against Rongrong…
Better silence. Better swallowed grievances than courting my own death.
…
Just as the tension boiled on, the arena host's thunderous voice pierced it:
"Next battle! Introducing competitors: Emperor Xuanyuan versus The Dark Night Assassin!"
The mood changed instantly. The attention of tens of thousands turned to the next names, swelling with anticipation.
From one side, Xiao Tian stepped into the lit stage. His robes rippled faintly in the arena torchlight, his face calm, sword clutched steady, his aura relaxed yet ungraspable.
From the other came a shadowed figure, dressed head to toe in deep purple, a black mask hiding his face. His presence oozed menace. The announcer's words spilled across the stands:
"It's him! The Shadow Assassin! The Night Ghost Sword himself!"
"Hah! If he wins tonight, he'll transfer to the Central Great Arena. Five-straight streak! This battle determines if his Fighting Spirit Badge ascends to Bronze Ranking!"
"Hahaha! And his opponent is just a boy! Xuanyuan Human Emperor? What arrogance! He'll be torn apart!"
Rumbles of cruel laughter echoed.
Someone whispered nervously—a rare voice of memory from Xiao Wu's previous fight. "Don't underestimate him just from his looks. Remember that soft rabbit girl from earlier? She looked fragile too, until she annihilated that white tiger. This boy's aura feels even heavier than hers…"
The crowd gradually quieted, attention sharp on the ring.
The masked assassin sneered through hoarse tones. "Little brat. Bad luck—you drew me for your first fight. Don't blame your fate."
His voice and exposed skin revealed him clearly—no youth, but an old veteran scarred by a thousand battles. He was at least forty, hardened and merciless. His eyes glinted blood-red through the slit of his mask.
Xiao Tian tilted his head slightly and smiled like sunshine.
"Uncle, staring at me too long will cost you later. Kindly blink when you still can."
The crowd gasped at the audacity.
The host's voice boomed overhead:
"Xuanyuan Human Emperor! Martial Spirit: Sword! Rank forty-three, strong attack-type Soul Sect!"
"Night Assassin! Martial Spirit: Shadow Blade! Rank forty-six, agility attack-type Soul Sect!"
"Tonight we witness a new challenger—against a five-win streak fighter already famed for his terrifying skills! Can the boy surprise us as that violent rabbit did? Or fall before shadows?"
Cheers roared.
The Night Assassin glared while lifting his blade. "You've got mouth, boy. Let's see if you still speak after your flesh is cut."
Then—he stomped his foot. Light flared.
Four spirit rings rose one by one about him: white, yellow, purple, purple.
"A strong foundation!" Narrators praised. "Discipline and balance!"
But then—
Hum.
From Xiao Tian as he unsheathed Sword Fifteen—
All four rings shone deep purple. Purple. Purple. Purple. Purple.
The brilliance swallowed the platform like a thunderclap.
The crowd burst into uproar.
"What!? All black rings… His first ring—a ten-thousand-year black ring?!
"That configuration… unheard of! The youngest fighter I've ever seen! How is this possible?!"
The host seized the mic, voice cracking.
"My heavens—Xuanyuan Human Emperor's spirit ring configuration is unprecedented! No history scroll ever recorded the first ring beyond one thousand years! This boy has shattered Douluo's record!"
Gasps boiled into awe-struck cheers.
On the edge of the stands, Manager Ao's eyes narrowed to slits, heart pounding. Purple first ring? This isn't just genius—this is monstrous. A young man with such background… This child must belong to terrifying forces beyond even my comprehension.
On the ring, the Night Assassin froze. He barked ironic laughter, but sweat pooled cold on his gloves. "Hmph. Impressive. But purple rings won't save you when a dagger's in your ribs!"
His third soul ring lit up. His body's outline blurred.
At once—he vanished.
Gasps tore across the arena.
"It's here! His signature Soul Skill—Shadow Concealment! He merges with his own shadows, aura erased, figure dissolved. He becomes one with the environment. An assassin in purest form! How can Emperor Xuanyuan resist?"
The stands tensed. The assassin was gone, sight and spirit sense blank.
Until—
Xiao Tian's sword pupil opened. His eyes shimmered like honed blades. In that instant—every shadow around him rippled clear.
His lips curled faintly.
"You thought you could hide from me?"
A decisive flash of sword glow followed.
And where his blade pointed—stood the "hidden" assassin, revealed naked before a boy wielding more than mere rings.
The crowd boiled louder still, thunder crashing in their ears.
The real battle had only just begun.
--
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