The air shivered.
From the tip of the long spear in Qian Yu's hands, a tide of soul energy surged and condensed, shimmering like heat waves under a blazing sun. Then, in a single, thunderous beat—he struck.
The spear sliced down from the heavens, a streak of silver fury.
Zhao Wuji's eyes widened. His instincts screamed danger. He summoned his soul power, shifting it forward in a desperate attempt to block.
Too late.
BOOM—!
The impact landed with the force of a falling star. Qian Yu's spear drove mercilessly into Zhao Wuji's chest, the sheer force hurling the older man backward like a broken kite.
CRACK—!
Zhao Wuji crashed through a stone wall. Dust and rubble exploded in every direction, swallowing him whole.
He coughed violently, blood splattering across the floor as he struggled to stay upright. His body slumped against the wreckage.
"Impossible..." he muttered, disbelief hollow in his voice. His eyes, dazed and glassy, stared at Qian Yu as though trying to pierce through an illusion.
No illusion. Just overwhelming power.
A shadow stepped forward. Qian Yu's expression was calm—too calm—as he closed the distance, knowing full well that someone like Zhao Wuji couldn't be allowed to recover.
But before he could move further, the air shifted again.
Another presence—older, deeper—descended upon the battlefield like a pressure wave.
A second figure landed between them.
He was a man in his fifties, with a body built like a tank under a worn academic robe. His face was distinctive: wide cheekbones, a sharp hooked nose, a jutting chin, and an angular jaw that looked almost cartoonishly exaggerated—like the sole of a boot. Thick-rimmed glasses framed narrow eyes that gleamed with cunning even when half-lidded.
There was something unsettling about him. Like a clever fox who preferred to talk his way out of trouble—unless he absolutely had to bite.
"I was wondering when you'd show yourself," Qian Yu said with a soft chuckle, folding his arms.
The man inclined his head. "Flander," he said, voice low, "Headmaster of Shrek Academy."
He looked at Qian Yu for a long moment before adding, "Normally, two Soul Saints ganging up on a younger opponent would be shameful, but... you're no ordinary opponent, are you? Zhao Wuji alone was never going to be enough."
Qian Yu gave a half-smile. "Your academy has a habit of ganging up, doesn't it? One against two, numbers over fairness."
Flander sighed. "Believe it or not, I admire your talent. If circumstances were different, I'd have invited you to join us."
"But then... there's Dai Mubai."
At that name, Qian Yu's smile vanished. A flicker of contempt passed through his eyes.
Flander continued, "He's one of ours. More than that, he has powerful backing—backing we can't afford to offend. If we don't act, our academy will face consequences."
Qian Yu's laugh was low, but it carried a biting edge. "So you cower in fear of a spoiled princeling's tantrum? Amusing. And what if you should fear me instead?"
Flander's eyes narrowed. "You know Dai Mubai's true identity?"
"Not just his," Qian Yu said, his voice cool as steel. "I know all of yours. Every teacher. Every secret. You know nothing about me—that is the real danger."
His voice dropped into a whisper that cut like ice.
"And if my status eclipses that of your little princeling... then what will you do?"
Silence followed.
Flander hesitated, his sharp mind racing. The boy was young, yet his spirit rings—so many of them, and all of a terrifying quality—marked him as extraordinary. Almost... unnatural.
He thought back to the surname.
Qian...
Could it be?
A flicker of realization flashed in his eyes. His voice dropped to a cautious murmur. "You... are you from the Spirit Hall?"
Qian Yu said nothing, only smiled.
That silence said more than words ever could.
Flander's heart pounded. If that was true, then the boy's status within Spirit Hall was not only legitimate—it was dangerous. He found himself caught between two massive forces: the Star Luo Empire on one side, Spirit Hall on the other.
Before he could speak, another thunderous sound ripped through the air.
BOOM!
Zhao Wuji burst from the rubble, eyes wild with rage.
"True Spirit Form!" he roared, his soul power erupting like an avalanche.
His body swelled grotesquely, surging past five meters tall. Muscles inflated like barrels, and coarse fur exploded across his skin. In an instant, he had become a towering bear, golden fur shimmering under the light.
He roared again and lunged for Qian Yu.
His second soul ring lit up with blinding intensity.
"Titan Palm!"
A cascade of energy crashed forward, aimed squarely at Qian Yu. The battlefield cracked beneath the force.
"Wait—!" Flander shouted.
But Zhao Wuji had already lost himself to fury. He charged forward like a locomotive, raising one massive paw the size of a cartwheel.
Qian Yu exhaled softly, his expression unreadable.
"So... that's your decision."
The air trembled.
Without stepping back, Qian Yu thrust his spear forward—point first, soul power flaring to life.
CRACK!
The spear collided with Zhao Wuji's palm. In an instant, flesh tore. Blood sprayed into the air. Bones splintered.
BOOM—!
Zhao Wuji's hand exploded.
But he didn't stop.
His pride—his position—his academy's reputation—it was all on the line. With one hand already useless, he threw himself back into the fray, roaring with everything he had.
"TITAN PALM!!"
His remaining hand grew to monstrous proportions, rushing down toward Qian Yu like a falling boulder.
Qian Yu narrowed his eyes. He moved.
And yet—Zhao Wuji's soul ring flared again.
The fourth ring—a deep violet—detached from his body and shot toward Qian Yu like a hunting hawk. It locked around him, anchoring his movement, drawing Zhao Wuji straight to him no matter how he shifted.
A trap.
Zhao Wuji leapt, his massive form blocking out the sky.
But Qian Yu only smiled.
"Then let me show you something of my own," he whispered.
Behind him, light burst into being.
Twin golden wings unfurled, radiant and otherworldly.
Martial Soul—Void Wings.
He soared.
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