The next morning—bright and early.
"Starting today, we begin formal lessons. I will personally instruct most of your classes. Everyone, rise. Follow me to the training field."
Dressed in a simple white shirt and dark plaid trousers, Wu Zhangkong's tall, lean frame radiated quiet authority.
He stood at the podium, voice icy and crisp.
His ice-blue hair shimmered in the morning light, and his emerald-green eyes swept over every student like sharpened blades.
"Quiet. Form two lines."
The students, still chattering and shuffling, fell silent at once—not from shouting, but from the biting cold aura radiating from Wu Zhangkong.
Just by standing there, he lowered the temperature around him by several degrees.
Under his overwhelming presence, the class obediently lined up—no one dared whisper or move out of turn.
"My teaching method differs from others," Wu Zhangkong declared. "They focus on theory and drills. I focus on real combat.
Because real combat is the fastest path to strength."
"Today's first lesson? Actual battle.
You will pair off and fight one-on-one.
I'll serve as referee. Single-elimination tournament.
I want to see your true capabilities—so I can tailor your training plans."
A nervous hand rose.
"Teacher Wu… I'm a support-type Soul Master… do I have to fight too?"
Wu Zhangkong's gaze turned arctic.
"On the battlefield, will your enemies spare you just because you're a support?"
His voice carried no warmth—only finality. "Don't ask that again."
"If anyone else asks such a question," he added coldly, "you may apply to transfer classes.
If no other class accepts you—then withdraw or transfer schools."
The field fell dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.
Then—Fang Yang raised his hand.
"Teacher Wu, I have a question. I'm Level 29—who's going to fight me?"
Wu Zhangkong studied him for a long moment.
"After everyone else finishes… I'll spar with you myself."
He turned to the front of the line.
"You two start."
The chosen were Tang Wulin and Xie Xie.
Xie Xie: Level 18 Strong-Attack Battle Soul Master.
Tang Wulin: Level 15 Control Soul Master.
They stepped into the center, eyes locking—invisible sparks crackling between them.
"Tang Wulin," Xie Xie said, eyes narrowing, his Light Dragon Dagger already shimmering in his right hand, "I won't hold back this time."
Tang Wulin stood firm, battle spirit rising. "Bring it on, Xie Xie."
Wu Zhangkong stepped back, voice cutting through the tension:
"Rules are simple—knock your opponent down. Use any method. No holding back.
I'm here—no one will get seriously hurt."
"Begin!"
Instantly, Tang Wulin released his martial soul. A yellow hundred-year soul ring rose beneath his feet.
Coiled beside him was his soul spirit—"Blue Light," a vibrant Datura Snake.
"First Soul Skill: Blue Silver Bind!"
At the name, Wu Zhangkong's pupils contracted slightly—a ripple of recognition crossing his mind.
"Blue Silver Bind?!" That's Tang San's legendary technique—the founder of the Tang Sect and Sea God himself!
At Tang Wulin's command, dense blue vines shot toward Xie Xie.
These weren't ordinary Blue Silver Grass—their edges shimmered with faint deep-blue patterns, radiating an unusual, ancient aura.
Xie Xie responded instantly—his yellow soul ring flared, and golden light trailed his Light Dragon Dagger as he darted through the vines like a phantom.
But to his shock—his blade couldn't cut through the vines!
"How… is this possible?!" He faltered.
Tang Wulin seized the opening.
"Blue Silver Bind—again!"
More vines erupted, wrapping Xie Xie like a cocoon.
No matter how he struggled, the vines held firm—soft to the touch, yet unbreakable.
"Match over. Tang Wulin wins." Wu Zhangkong announced, eyes gleaming with interest.
As a Shrek Academy graduate, he knew at once: this Blue Silver Grass was no ordinary plant.
Xie Xie's Light Dragon Dagger wasn't top-tier—but it shouldn't fail against basic grass.
Unless…
"Does he carry… a trace of Blue Silver Emperor bloodline? Or… the legendary Blue Silver Empress?
And if so—by Spirit inheritance law—he must possess a second martial soul…
The Hao Tian Hammer—the Number One Weapon Martial Soul on the Douluo Continent!
If that's true… Tang Wulin's identity is far more significant than it appears…
"You two—come here."
Wu Zhangkong's voice was glacial. The boys hurried over.
"Xie Xie," he said sharply, "your Light Dragon Dagger relies on speed—yet you charge recklessly, without strategy."
He turned to Tang Wulin. "Your timing on Blue Silver Bind was decent… but your follow-up control was sluggish. Against a stronger foe, you'd already be defeated."
His critique was ruthless, precise, and utterly accurate. Both boys sweated—but couldn't deny a word.
The remaining matches only deepened Wu Zhangkong's frown.
Class Five truly lived up to its reputation—the dumping ground for "useless martial souls."
Of the twenty students:
- 8 were Tool-Support Soul Masters with no combat ability and barely useful buffs.
- Among the Battle Soul Masters, 3 had martial souls nearly as weak as Blue Silver Grass.
Then came the most absurd match yet:
Two support Tool-Spirit users ended up shoving each other back and forth like children—no techniques, no skill, just clumsy pushing.
Wu Zhangkong had braced himself—but even he wasn't prepared for this level of incompetence.
So far, only three students stood out: Fang Yang, Tang Wulin, and Xie Xie.
When the final match concluded, Wu Zhangkong turned to Fang Yang, who'd been waiting patiently.
"Now—it's our turn."
Fang Yang stepped calmly into the arena.
Wu Zhangkong's voice was cool.
"I'll suppress my soul power to Level 29 and use only my first and second soul skills.
If you can last three moves, you win."
"Yes, Teacher Wu," Fang Yang nodded.
"Begin!"
In the same instant, blue light flashed in Wu Zhangkong's hand.
Soul power condensed—and a slender, crystalline sword materialized: the Skyfrost Sword.
Its blade shimmered like ice, radiating cold so intense it seemed to freeze the air itself.
"Whoa! What an awesome martial soul!"
"That's Teacher Wu's power? Incredible!"
"Can Fang Yang handle this?"
The students murmured in awe.
As the Skyfrost Sword appeared, Wu Zhangkong's aura of cold intensified.
Without a word, he stepped forward—
and swept his sword in a single, fluid motion.
A pale blue arc of freezing energy surged toward Fang Yang like a tidal wave of frost!
"So fast!" Fang Yang's eyes narrowed in surprise.
Even suppressed, Wu Zhangkong's speed and precision were flawless—far beyond ordinary Soul Masters!
Fang Yang leapt back—and raised his right hand.
WHOOSH!
Blazing flame erupted.
"Heavenly Flame—manifest!"
Deep golden-yellow fire coiled around his palm—
its searing heat instantly vaporizing the biting cold.
Wu Zhangkong's frost blade struck the flame—
and dissolved like snow under the sun.
"Hm?" Wu Zhangkong's eyes sharpened with surprise.
His Skyfrost Sword's chill could stall most Level 29 Soul Masters—
yet Fang Yang's flame evaporated it instantly?
"This fire… is no ordinary flame!"
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