Among soul masters, soul rings were the ultimate proof of strength.
The moment Dai Mubai displayed his three rings—one of them a millennium ring—the boy's father turned pale. Muttering "Just our bad luck," he grabbed his son and left in a hurry.
Dai Mubai sauntered back to his seat, his evil eyes sweeping coldly over the remaining applicants and their parents—a silent but very clear warning.
The oppressive aura of three soul rings was not something ordinary people could endure. Right now, he looked less like some spoiled young master and more like a thug on guard duty.
After that little display, a third of the line melted away. No one wanted to throw money away, especially when the ramshackle appearance of Shrek Academy inspired no confidence.
Another applicant stepped up to the old man. Both his parents had accompanied him, his mother confidently dropping ten gold coins into the wooden box. The boy obediently held out his hand.
The old man pinched his fingers, glanced at him with cloudy eyes, and said, "Exactly twelve. Release your martial soul for me."
The boy nodded. Pale green soul power spread from his body, a yellow century ring revolving around him as a thick vine coiled up from his feet. It wasn't unlike Tang San's Blue Silver Grass, but this was a true vine-type martial soul, similar to Tang San's Ghost Vine second ring—minus the poison.
The old man shook his head. "Not qualified. You can leave."
The parents froze mid‑smile. "Why?" the mother protested. "My son was top of his class in the junior academy. And you saw his ring—it's a hundred-year! Not many soul masters can claim that."
"The first ring being a century is fine," the old man said coolly, "but he's just an ordinary person."
The father frowned. "I don't follow."
With a trace of impatience, the old man got up from behind the desk and raised his voice, addressing not just them but the whole line. "If you've come to register for Shrek Academy, you should learn the rules first. If you haven't figured them out, you're just here to throw away your money. Still time to back out. Do you even know what 'Shrek' means?"
The majority wore blank expressions. The old man said flatly, "Shrek is a kind of monster, even among soul beasts a rarity. Our Shrek Academy is the Monster Academy. That means we only take monsters, not ordinary people—no older than thirteen and at least twenty‑first rank soul power. If you don't meet those, don't waste your time."
To prove his point, he let his own aura burst forth: one white, one yellow, three purple, one black. Six rings rose at his feet. The configuration was far from perfect, but here in the backwater Balak Kingdom, a soul emperor above rank 60 was a rare, peak-level powerhouse.
"So basically, you only take prodigies under thirteen with rank twenty‑one or higher," came a dry voice from the side. While the crowd buzzed over the old man's power, Yunchuan could no longer resist giving his two cents.
"Exactly. Another way to say 'monster' is 'genius,' and Shrek only takes geniuses," the old man replied without hesitation.
"In that case, why not just go to the Four Element Academies or the Royal Academies?" Yunchuan shot back. "Why drag them out to some remote dump like this? You call this a soul master academy?"
In his mind, the original Shrek Seven Monsters were all heaven‑defying talents—several with innate full soul power—proud geniuses any sect would prize. Turning a bunch of born prodigies into prodigies again? If they were already extraordinary, what was there to 'teach'? And here, with no simulated environments or quality facilities—without Tang San's protagonist halo—wasn't this just delaying their futures?
"Kid, I've put up with you for long enough. Drop that sarcastic tone." Soul masters were notoriously quick‑tempered, and after a long morning of turning away applicants, this old man's patience was frayed to the breaking point. Yunchuan's needling was the spark.
Shrek's facilities might be shabby compared to other academies, but the teachers were top tier—and as one himself, the old man wasn't about to let an outsider insult them… especially when Yunchuan was also, technically, a Shrek teacher.
"What sarcasm? Tell me, did I say anything untrue?" Yunchuan spread his hands in mock innocence.
He admitted to himself—Flender, Zhao Wuji, they were indeed fine instructors—but even with them, the academy was still in terrible shape. Strong teachers alone couldn't make up for rotten infrastructure.
"You—!" The old man was livid and on the verge of striking.
"Teachers, don't! Don't lose your tempers." Dai Mubai hurried over. He now knew Yunchuan was the new faculty member and wanted to keep things from boiling over—two Shrek teachers brawling in public would be a disgrace.
Privately, Dai favored the old man's side, but he couldn't deny Yunchuan wasn't wrong. Shrek was bare‑bones. Had he not burned his bridges in the empire, Dai wouldn't have been here hiding out himself.
"Mubai, stand aside. Today I'll make the new kid learn about rules." The old man's eyes were still hard—he did love this academy.
A little ways off—
"Brother, did you hear? This guy's a Shrek teacher?!" Xiao Wu whispered, then added curiously, "If so, why did he beat that lecherous Dai half to death last time? And Dai looked like he didn't even know he was a teacher."
"Who knows? Maybe there's more to it that we don't," Tang San murmured, equally puzzled.
"New boy, dare to have a soul master's bout with me?" The old man's anger had burned away what reason he had. Even with Dai Mubai blocking, he was practically issuing a challenge.
"You want to fight me? Are you sure? Did you forget what rank I am?" Yunchuan extended his right hand, a sprig of Blue Silver Grass appearing in his palm. Around him, rings rose into view—two yellow, two purple, three black—the perfect configuration.
Of course, it was an illusion. He'd altered the colors—seven black rings would shatter people's common sense. Most wouldn't even believe it, dismissing it as some trick, so it was less effective as intimidation. Unless provoked beyond caring, as with Flender the other day, he preferred to show a "best practice" ring layout. Flender, questioning him later, had gotten the bland excuse that it was "just a soul skill illusion."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Seeing Yunchuan's youthful face surrounded by seven imposing soul rings struck far deeper awe than the old man had.
"Oh no… forgot this kid's a Soul Saint!" The old man felt as if someone had dumped cold water down his back. The fury clouding his mind cleared in an instant. Picking a fight with a young soul saint—what was he thinking? At his age, rank 60‑plus, he'd be thrashed. In truth, it was far more likely he would end up the one dangling upside‑down.
This fight can't happen. If I lose, my dignity's done for! As he scrambled for an out, his gaze caught on Dai Mubai, who was staring wide‑eyed, clearly only now realizing the "new teacher" was a Soul Saint. An idea struck, and the old man shot him a meaningful look.
Dai Mubai met his eyes, and the old man's heart settled in relief. 'Still, Mubai's the reliable one here.'
Then Dai opened his mouth.
"Don't worry, Teacher. I'll go arrange the venue right away." He sounded almost eager—after all, a clash between a Soul Saint and Soul Emperor was a rare treat. And space? Shrek had empty ground in spades—it was one thing they had in abundance, being so poor.
That, of course, was part of why Yunchuan had called it shabby. It was a glorified yard with a few houses barely fit to live in, and food as bad as the lodging. After his one night here, he'd fled back to Soto.
Dai Mubai remembered that day only knowing a new teacher had arrived—now learning that teacher was a seven‑ring Soul Saint. He even recalled Ma Hongjun's smug idea to "test" the newcomer—claiming only an "old monster" could teach "little monsters." The fat fool should thank his luck Yunchuan hadn't been there, or…
The memory of being battered half to death by Yunchuan's summoned wooden man made Dai shiver. Fatty, for your own good, stay honest. Or you really won't survive.