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Early the next morning—Donghai Academy training field.
All Class Five students had arrived ahead of schedule after breakfast. Terrified of Wu Zhangkong, not a single one dared be late.
"Good. Not one of you is late," Wu Zhangkong said coldly. "Today's physical training: ten laps around the track."
A collective gasp rippled through the ranks.
Eyes widened. Hearts sank.
How are we supposed to finish that?!
The Intermediate Division's standard track was 800 meters per lap—ten laps meant eight kilometers. Even for soul masters with soul power, this was no small challenge.
"Fang Yang! Tang Wulin! Xie Xie! Step forward!"
After announcing the task, Wu Zhangkong's voice turned even sharper.
"Yes, sir!"
The three immediately stepped out from the line.
"You three will represent Class Five in the Promotion Tournament. Your training intensity doubles."
His eyes swept over them. "Tang Wulin, Xie Xie—here is your Chainmail Armor."
Two iron garments—woven from thick, heavy chains—were handed to them. Each weighed twenty pounds.
The chains glinted coldly in the sun, clinking softly.
"As for you, Fang Yang—your flame control still needs refinement. Today, you'll practice here on the field. Do not stop until I say so."
Wu Zhangkong turned to the last of the trio.
Xie Xie's eyes bulged. "Teacher Wu, that's not fair! Why does he get special treatment?!"
Wu Zhangkong shot him a withering glance. "If you had Fang Yang's physique, you wouldn't need extra training either!"
Xie Xie instantly deflated.
Fang Yang's physical constitution was monstrous—even Wu Zhangkong had acknowledged it.
But being the clever soul he was, Xie Xie wisely chose submission.
Fang Yang walked to an open spot on the field.
"All units—training begins!"
At Wu Zhangkong's command, the class gritted their teeth and began running.
Chainmail clattered as Tang Wulin and Xie Xie pounded the track.
Tang Wulin quickly found his rhythm.
Xie Xie, as an Agility-Attack type, sprinted ahead—leading the pack despite the weight.
In the center of the field, Fang Yang summoned a deep golden-yellow flame in his palm.
He shaped it into exquisite fire lotuses, each blooming and dissolving with mesmerizing precision.
By the second lap, Xie Xie's speed faltered.
The iron armor's weight dragged at his legs like anchors.
Tang Wulin, however, maintained steady breathing—his Blue Silver Grass subtly replenishing his stamina—and began overtaking classmates one by one.
By the fifth lap, nearly half the class had dropped out.
Some leaned on their knees, gasping. Others collapsed onto the grass.
Xie Xie felt his lungs burning, legs moving on autopilot.
Only Tang Wulin kept pace—calm, resilient, unstoppable.
Wu Zhangkong watched from the sidelines, brows furrowed.
Their physical foundation is even worse than I feared.
When the last student staggered across the finish line, he declared:
"Ten-minute rest. Then run again."
Groans filled the air—but no one dared disobey.
Just then—
From the path leading to the school gate, a girl strolled onto the field.
She paused at the entrance, glancing around as if searching for someone.
Inside Fang Yang, the Golden Dragon King's bloodline stirred violently—as if sensing something.
His gaze snapped toward the gate—and there she was.
A girl dressed in simple white pants and a white top.
About the same age as the first-years—not stunningly beautiful, but clean and refined.
Black hair. Black eyes.
Slender yet athletic build.
Her large eyes shone with quiet intensity.
And as she walked—there was a strange rhythm to her steps… and an unusual aura surrounding her.
Wu Zhangkong's eyes narrowed.
She's not in uniform—and classes have already started.
"Which class are you from?" he approached, voice icy.
The girl's eyes skipped right past him—landing on Fang Yang at the center of the field.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face—then vanished.
"I came to enroll," she said, voice crisp as she looked back at Wu Zhangkong, "but the school said registration is closed."
"You're not a Donghai Academy student?" Wu Zhangkong's brow furrowed.
"Not yet," she smiled faintly. "But I hope to study here. May I, Teacher?"
Another instructor might have dismissed her on the spot.
But Wu Zhangkong? He wasn't just any teacher.
"It's possible," he said coolly, "but this is a Soul Master Academy. To study here, you must prove your worth."
"I accept the challenge," she replied confidently.
"Good. What's your name?"
"Gu Yue."
Her answer flowed like clear spring water.
"Very well, Gu Yue. I'll give you a chance—prove you deserve to be a student here."
Wu Zhangkong turned—then hesitated.
He'd almost called Xie Xie… but stopped himself.
Xie Xie? Unreliable. He couldn't even handle Blue Silver Bind…
Xie Xie: "???"
Instead, Wu Zhangkong called out:
"Fang Yang—come here."
Fang Yang extinguished his Heavenly Flame and strode over.
As he passed Gu Yue, his Golden Dragon King bloodline surged even more intensely.
Feigning innocence, he asked Wu Zhangkong, "Teacher Wu, what's up?"
"This girl, Gu Yue, wishes to join our Class Five. Test her strength."
Then, to Gu Yue: "If you last five minutes against Fang Yang, you may enroll. If not—return where you came from."
The condition sounded simple—but was brutally harsh.
Against a Level 30 Soul Elder, most soul masters wouldn't survive even one minute.
Yet Gu Yue's eyes glowed with anticipation.
Fang Yang, meanwhile, gave a thoughtful nod.
"Fang Yang—don't hold back!" Wu Zhangkong warned.
"Both of you—step back ten meters."
They locked eyes—then swiftly retreated, creating space.
The resting students perked up instantly. Tang Wulin and Xie Xie moved to the front to watch.
Xie Xie muttered under his breath: "Who is this girl? Does she have any idea who she's challenging? Fang Yang's a monster!"
Tang Wulin stared intently at the field. "She doesn't look ordinary."
Wu Zhangkong stood between them, right hand raised high.
"Begin!"
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