After Wang Yan patiently finished his long explanation of the mission, everyone already knew what to expect — a load of exaggerated talk about how "evil" the Hand of Death bandit group was, and how "righteous" the Shrek Monitoring Corps' duty would be.
Once the briefing ended, the group set out again. This time, unlike the leisurely pace described in the "official" accounts, there was no sightseeing or scenic detours. Elder Xuan pushed them to move quickly and efficiently.
They traveled without rest, led by the stronger Inner Court disciples who carried or guided the rest through high-speed marching.
By midday, they reached the border between the Heavenly Soul Empire and the Star Luo Empire, where a Star Luo military outpost stood in the distance.
Using his identity as the eldest son of the White Tiger Duke, Dai Yueheng secured a batch of military-grade flying soul tools for the group.
Of course, "military-grade" was just a polite term — these were ancient models, long obsolete and discarded by the Sun and Moon Empire generations ago.
Flying soul tools were rare and impractical for most low-level Soul Masters. They were costly to make, drained soul power rapidly, and required at least a four-ring cultivation to operate safely. Even then, they were far less agile than Soul Masters with flying-type martial souls.
Yet the very fact that Shrek Academy — the self-proclaimed top academy in the continent — needed to borrow outdated military tools said everything about its internal politics.
Despite its reputation, Shrek's Soul Tool Department and Martial Soul Department were notoriously divided. The Soul Tool branch generated enormous profits for the academy, but none of that technology ever made its way into the equipment of the official Shrek teams.
Why? Because the Martial Soul faction refused to "lower themselves" by relying on mechanical assistance — and the Soul Tool faction, still bitter after their representatives were replaced in both the main and reserve teams, refused to cooperate.
Thus, even for an urgent mission, the academy's elite had to rely on Dai Yueheng's family ties to borrow outdated flying tools from the military.
Activating his Eye of Truth, Huo Yuhao examined the soul tool assigned to him. Within his sight, the structure of the device was riddled with unnecessary, inefficient formations — almost as if someone had intentionally sabotaged the design.
Beyond the main power arrays that converted soul power into lift and propulsion, the secondary circuits were bloated with redundant formations hidden deep within the core — like encrypted clutter meant to prevent optimization.
But under the Eye of Truth, every flaw was laid bare.
With some recalibration and reorganization, Yuhao could easily enhance its efficiency by over fifty percent. In fact, he could even adapt some of its circuits to modify his own soul power flow system, potentially granting himself limited flight capabilities independent of the tool.
Given his self-replenishing soul power loop, he could maintain mid-air travel for a considerable distance in emergencies.
Without revealing his thoughts, Yuhao strapped on the device and began flight practice with the others.
Even Wang Dong, who normally despised soul tools due to the mental seal Tang San had left within his spiritual sea, seemed to have forgotten his aversion — the mental suppression was dormant for now — and joined the training cheerfully.
After a short while, Elder Xuan took another gulp from his wine gourd and barked, "All right, you've practiced enough! Just don't puke when we're up there."
Since many were still recovering from injuries sustained during the internal spar, Elder Xuan had no intention of wasting more time on adaptation.
"This mission's on a tight schedule," he said, waving lazily. "We're flying straight there. Get ready."
Before anyone could object, Wang Yan produced a long rope from his storage device and distributed it.
Following instructions, each person tied the rope around their torso, thighs, and arms. The safety lines linked together at the waist — all ultimately tied to Elder Xuan's belt.
Moments later, he surrounded everyone with his soul power and took to the air, activating his own flight tool.
Then came the lurch — a massive pull as Elder Xuan dragged the entire group through the sky like a human kite string.
The roaring wind cut like blades, howling in their ears.
This wasn't flight — this was brute-force towing. No wind resistance control, no aerodynamics, just raw power. If not for their reinforced bodies, half of them would've blacked out.
Even so, everyone had to activate soul power barriers to keep from freezing or tearing apart in the gale.
Yet despite the chaos, their actual speed was still below sonic levels. Even a Super Douluo like Elder Xuan couldn't simply break the sound barrier through pure muscle strength — not without high-grade flight devices.
Two grueling hours later, the rollercoaster ordeal ended as they crash-landed near their destination.
Ma Xiaotao and Dai Yueheng were the only ones still standing upright — pale but composed.
The others collapsed, retching violently, some lying flat on the ground as their stomachs heaved.
Even Yuhao felt lightheaded and dry-heaved twice before his internal potion circulation and constant soul power recovery steadied him.
"Hmph. Look at you all — pathetic," Elder Xuan said mockingly. Then he turned to Dai Yueheng, unfazed. "Little Dai, I made a bit of noise on the way down. The army will probably notice soon."
He yawned. "I'll leave that to you. I'm going to take a nap."
And with that, he stretched, turned around, and vanished without another word.
Dai Yueheng could feel his internal injuries flare just from sheer frustration, but there was nothing to do except sigh and handle the situation.
Soon enough, under Dai Yueheng's lead, the group entered the Star Luo army camp. Despite losing the royal power struggle, the White Tiger Duke's family still held immense influence — the Western Legion was practically their private army.
Because of the White Tiger lineage's divine heritage and the lingering reverence for their ancestral deities, the ruling Xu royal family dared not strip them of all authority.
Thus, Dai Yueheng's arrival was enough to guarantee the group's welcome.
By the time they reached the main tent, night had fallen. The camp was alive with torchlight.
A general led them inside and bowed toward the man reviewing documents by lamplight. "Marshal, the young master and the Shrek delegation have arrived."
The man looked up — handsome, sharp-eyed, with twin pupils gleaming like a beast's.
Dai Hao, the White Tiger Duke.
He was also — in another life — the father of the body Yuhao now inhabited.
Yuhao stared at him silently, indifferent. Revenge? Perhaps. Reunion? Never. The past was dead — and if Dai Hao's family was fated for ruin, so be it.
After a brief exchange between father and son, Dai Hao turned to the group with a smile. "Welcome, Teacher Wang Yan, and the esteemed students of Shrek Academy. It's an honor to have the Monitoring Corps assist in this campaign."
"You must be weary from travel. Please, dine with us in camp tonight — let me play host."
Wang Yan accepted readily. After all, they hadn't eaten properly since morning — and Elder Xuan's "flight method" had emptied everyone's stomachs anyway.
Two hours later, after food, meditation, and rest, night deepened.
Dai Hao's men delivered their intelligence.
It was vague — reports suggested the Hand of Death bandits had been sighted somewhere in the depths of the Mingdou Mountain Range, but nothing concrete.
"We don't have much time," Wang Yan said after reviewing the documents. "We still need to reach Star Luo City for the tournament. The night will conceal us — and lull the enemy into complacency. We move now."
"Locate them swiftly, eliminate them cleanly, and return by tomorrow noon if possible."
Everyone nodded.
Huo Yuhao, meanwhile, quietly analyzed the situation.
He mentally listed the key players worth saving:
Ma Xiaotao — not his concern. Let the evil devour evil.
Dai Yueheng — destined to die sooner or later; not worth the effort.
Gongyang Mo — useful, worth preserving.
Chen Zifeng — strong offense; could help in the tournament. Keep him alive if possible.
Yao Haoxuan — mediocre control and support; expendable.
Ling Luochen — capable and self-sufficient. No need to intervene.
Xi Xi — fragile; if he focused on protecting Chen Zifeng, she'd likely fall. Acceptable losses.
"So many to protect... spirit power might not be enough," he thought. "Unless… someone else takes the hit for them all."
A plan began forming in his mind.
"Very well," Wang Yan said, clapping his hands. "If there are no objections, we move immediately. Dai Yueheng, you lead the formation. I'll cover the weaker members."
"Yes, Teacher Wang," Dai Yueheng replied with his usual composed smile — a smile that would soon vanish.
Hours later, deep in the Mingdou Mountains, the Shrek team advanced in formation.
Dai Yueheng, Ma Xiaotao, and Chen Zifeng led the vanguard; the others filled the center; Beibei and Xu Sanshi guarded the rear.
After an hour of silent marching, they still found nothing.
Then Yuhao stopped, his Eye of Truth flickering. "I found something."
He pointed at a broken branch nearby. "Still moist — it snapped recently. And the height? Not from a spirit beast. This was manmade."
Dai Yueheng nodded. "Everyone, stay alert. Spread out, but move carefully — don't startle them."
Following Yuhao's lead, Wang Yan soon discovered a grove of Wenlan trees — just like in the original records — and triangulated the likely hideout of the Hand of Death.
Another hour passed.
Finally, they stood before a dark cave at the base of a cliff — the lair of the Hand of Death Bandit Group.
(End of Chapter)