Chapter 41 – The Gilded Mirror of Hypocrisy
At the Gate of the 'Monsters' Academy.
The sun beat down on the village of Shrek, but the atmosphere was anything but warm. A long line of hopeful families stretched from the rickety gate, where a wooden sign proudly proclaimed: We only accept Monsters, not trash.
At the front sat Li Yusong, a staff-user of the Shrek Academy. He leaned back in his chair with a look of bored disdain, his fingers idly playing with a gold coin. A middle-aged man, his clothes patched and hands calloused from years of farmwork, stood before him, holding his young son's hand.
"Please, Master," the father pleaded, his voice trembling. "My son is twelve. He is a Rank 11 Spirit Scholar. We traveled four days to get here. Here are the ten gold coins for the application fee..."
Li Yusong didn't even look at the boy. He snatched the bag of coins, weighed it in his hand, and then pointed to the gate. "Your son's spirit is a hoe. A common farm tool. Shrek doesn't waste time on farmhands. Get out."
"But... the fee?" the father asked, reaching out. "If he isn't accepted, can we have the money back? It took us three years to save ten gold coins..."
Li Yusong's face darkened. He slammed his staff into the ground, a single soul ring flaring. "The fee is for the application, you fool! Whether he's accepted or not is irrelevant. The money is gone. Now leave before I break your legs for wasting my time."
The father collapsed to his knees, his son crying beside him. Around them, other commoners began to murmur in outrage. "This is a scam!" "How can you take a year's wages for ten seconds of work?"
Standing a few meters away in the shade of a tree, Tang San and Xiao Wu watched the scene.
Xiao Wu fidgeted, her rabbit-instincts flaring with a sense of unfairness. "Third Brother, isn't that a bit much? That family looks like they have nothing left."
Tang San looked at the crying father, his expression calm—almost cold. His Purple Demon Eye was inactive, but his gaze was already judging. "Xiao Wu, Teacher said this is a school for monsters. If they aren't strong enough to pass, they are just wasting the Academy's resources. The fee is a test of determination. If they can't afford the loss, they shouldn't have come."
He inwardly nodded at Li Yusong's harshness. To Tang San, the world was a hierarchy of the "worthy." He saw no problem with the strong taking from the weak—as long as the strong were "his people." In his mind, the Tang Sect's hidden weapons were built on the idea of the weak being fodder. If a Spirit Hall official had done this, Tang San would have branded them "evil" and "corrupt" in a heartbeat. But because this was a school recommended by his Teacher, it was simply "the way of the world."
"Might makes right, Xiao Wu," Tang San murmured, his voice laced with the same chilling pragmaticism that would one day lead him to freeze the progress of a whole continent to preserve his own power. "Only the strong deserve a voice."
On a ridge overlooking the village, Lakan stood with Zhu Zhuqing. His Eyes of the Origin God didn't miss a single detail—the father's despair, Li Yusong's arrogance, and most importantly, the quiet, self-righteous acceptance on Tang San's face.
"Look at him, Zhuqing," Lakan whispered, his voice like a cold wind. "That boy in blue. He thinks he is a hero because he follows a set of rules that favor him. He watches a robbery and calls it 'selection.' He sees a scam and calls it 'determination.' That is the poison of this world—hypocrisy wrapped in the cloak of destiny."
Lakan turned to a Spirit Hall messenger waiting in the shadows. "Now."
Just as Li Yusong was about to shove another family away, the sound of heavy boots and clanking armor drowned out the cries of the commoners.
A company of twenty Martial Soul Hall guards, led by the Suotuo City Bishop, marched into the village square. The commoners scrambled out of the way, eyes wide with fear and hope.
"Hold!" the Bishop bellowed, his voice amplified by soul power.
Li Yusong stood up, his staff at the ready. "This is Shrek Academy! We are under the jurisdiction of—"
"You are under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Law of Education!" the Bishop interrupted, holding up a shimmering silver scroll with the Sovereign's Seal. "We have received reports of illegal extortion and the operation of an unregistered educational facility. By the decree of the Holy Son, all application fees taken today are to be returned immediately!"
"You can't do this!" Li Yusong snarled. "Flender will—"
"Flender will answer to the Supreme Pontiff if he resists," the Bishop stepped forward, his eyes glowing. "Guards! Seize the ledger. Every family here is to receive their ten gold coins back, plus an additional two for the 'emotional distress' caused by this sham of an academy."
The transformation in the square was instantaneous. The crying father looked up as a guard handed him twelve gold coins. He stared at the coins, then at the Bishop, and finally at the Spirit Hall emblem.
"The Holy Son... he saved us?" the father whispered, tears of joy streaming down his face.
"Long live the Holy Son!" a woman screamed, clutching her child.
"Justice! Finally, someone stands up for us!" the crowd roared.
The name of the Martial Soul Hall was being chanted like a prayer. For the first time, these commoners didn't see the Hall as a distant religious entity, but as a shield against the "monsters" who sought to prey on them.
Tang San watched from the sidelines, his fists clenched. He felt a strange, burning irritation in his chest. How dare they? he thought. They are interrupting the selection process. They are making a scene just to look like heroes.
"They're just doing it for show," Tang San muttered to Xiao Wu, his double standards flaring. "The Spirit Hall is just using these people to gain influence. It's disgusting."
He couldn't see the irony. He couldn't see that while he sat in the shade watching a family lose their life savings, the "evil" Spirit Hall was the only one that actually put the money back in their hands.
Lakan, watching from the ridge, saw the scowl on Tang San's face. "He hates it," Lakan smirked, his silver sun-pupils shining with a predatory delight. "He hates that justice didn't come from him. He hates that he isn't the center of the story today."
Lakan turned his back on the village, his Mantis-Sibat glowing in the fading light. "Let's go, Zhuqing. The 'Monsters' are currently broke, humiliated, and angry. That is the perfect environment for them to start making mistakes. And when they do... we'll be in the Arena to collect the interest."