The path to the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy was a long, beautiful avenue paved with smooth, white stones and lined with ancient, fragrant scholar trees. The air was clean, carrying the faint, distant sounds of a city bustling with life. It was a path meant for nobles and scholars, a road that led to the very heart of the empire's future.
Today, it was being walked by three legends in the making.
Ning Rongrong was a vision of elegant, youthful nobility. She wore a simple but exquisitely tailored dress of a soft, pale green that complimented her vibrant, energetic aura. The cut was modest, yet it could not conceal the perfect, beautiful lines of her developing figure. It was a dress designed for both a formal visit and a sudden, unexpected battle—a perfect reflection of her new, multifaceted identity.
Zhu Zhuqing, by contrast, was a masterpiece of subtle, dangerous seduction. She wore a loose-fitting, dark purple top that draped over her magnificent, voluptuous form, its design deceptively simple. The true genius of the outfit was in its cut. The sides were open, revealing tantalizing slivers of the smooth, pale skin of her stomach, while a central band of fabric covered her navel. Below, she wore a short, black skirt and dark stockings that highlighted the long, powerful lines of her thick, soft thighs. With every step, her magnificent hips swayed in a hypnotic, natural rhythm, and her large breasts made the loose fabric of her top a work of art.
Zhang Tian himself was the picture of calm, understated elegance. He wore a simple set of dark, well-tailored robes, the fine fabric speaking of a quiet, immense wealth. There were no flashy adornments, no arrogant crests. His power was an aura, a presence, not a statement to be worn on his sleeve.
They walked in a comfortable, intimate formation, Zhang Tian in the middle, his arms linked with those of his two beautiful fiancées.
As they walked, his fingers, seemingly by accident, would brush against the exposed skin of Zhu Zhuqing's abdomen. It was a light, teasing, and incredibly intimate touch.
Zhu Zhuqing's breath hitched, a faint, rosy blush creeping up her neck. A jolt of pure, delicious excitement shot through her, a secret, thrilling fire that was for her alone. 'He's doing it on purpose,' she thought, her heart giving a small, happy flutter. 'The rascal. Right here, next to Rongrong.' She did not pull away. She did not stop him. She simply had to bite her lip to suppress the soft, happy moan that threatened to escape.
It was Zhu Zhuqing who broke the comfortable silence, her voice a low, analytical murmur. "Zhang Tian," she began, her gaze fixed on the distant, magnificent gates of the academy, "are you certain of this? Will the Imperial Academy truly accept us so readily? And to let us join the Emperor Team… it would mean replacing their own, carefully nurtured members. Will they not resist?"
Ning Rongrong just let out a cute, arrogant little huff. "Resist?" she echoed, her voice a confident, almost spoiled, chime. "Zhuqing, you are thinking too much. It will be the academy's greatest fortune that we are choosing to grace them with our presence. They should be on their hands and knees, begging us to join. They had better accept this generous deal."
Zhang Tian just chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Your confidence is a beautiful thing, my dear Rongrong," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "But Zhuqing is right. It will not be as simple as turning one's hand."
He looked at them, his expression turning more serious. "The Emperor Team is not just any team. It is a symbol of the Imperial Family's power, a collection of the most talented youths from the most powerful noble families in the empire. And its captain… is not a man who will simply step aside."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "The captain of the Emperor Team is Yu Tianheng. One of the twin stars of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. He is a man of immense pride and even greater ambition. He will not back down easily."
Ning Rongrong's beautiful face scrunched up in a mixture of thought and a familiar, fiery defiance. She raised a small, delicate fist. "Hmph. If he won't back down, then I will just beat him until he does," she declared, her voice filled with a simple, unwavering conviction.
Zhang Tian laughed aloud, a genuine, delighted sound that echoed in the quiet, secluded avenue. "You are probably the only Support System Spirit Master in the entire world who would dare to say such a thing," he said, his eyes shining with a deep, profound pride. "To claim you can beat a Power Attack Type with a top-tier Martial Spirit like the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon… and the most terrifying part is, you can actually do it."
A brilliant, happy smile bloomed on Ning Rongrong's face. She leaned in and pressed a soft, grateful kiss to his cheek. "It is all because of you, my husband."
Not to be outdone, Zhu Zhuqing leaned in and kissed his other cheek, her own touch a soft, lingering promise.
He just chuckled and wrapped his arms around their slender waists, pulling them both close. His fingers, now more bold, slipped beneath the hem of Ning Rongrong's top, playing with the soft skin of her waist. His other hand moved to Zhu Zhuqing's abdomen, his fingers tracing the edge of her clothing, his thumb finding and gently pressing against her navel. He then kissed both of them, a deep, affectionate gesture that spoke of a love that was as profound as it was passionate.
Their own hands were not idle. They roamed over his body, their touches a familiar, possessive language of their shared desire.
They soon reached the magnificent, towering gates of the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy. It was a place of power, of prestige, of the future of the empire itself.
They were escorted, with a great deal of respect and a palpable sense of awe, to the central administrative building, a grand, imposing structure that was the heart of the academy. They were led to a large, opulent office on the top floor.
The three Board Members of Education were waiting for them.
They were three old men, each one a living legend, a powerhouse of the Spirit Master world.
The one in the center was Meng Shenji, the principal of the academy. He was a small, wizened old man, but his eyes, sharp and intelligent, held a power that was anything but. His Martial Spirit was the Black Goblin.
To his right was Bai Baoshan, a large, powerfully built man with a great, white beard. His Spirit was the Heaven Star Furnace.
And on his left was Zhi Lin, a thin, scholarly man with long, white hair. His Spirit was the Sky Azure Vine.
All three of them were Spirit Douluos. Beings of immense, almost unimaginable power.
And yet, none of them dared to be disrespectful. None of them dared to put on the airs of a senior.
They knew who these three children were. Ning Rongrong, the sole heiress of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect. Zhang Tian, her fiancé, the future son-in-law of Ning Fengzhi. And Zhu Zhuqing, his second fiancée, a woman who, by extension, held the same, untouchable status.
"Mister Zhang Tian, Young Miss Ning, Young Miss Zhu," Meng Shenji began, his voice a polite, respectful sound. "Welcome to our humble academy. To what do we owe the honor of this visit?"
Zhang Tian got straight to the point. He explained their purpose. He explained their desire to join the academy.
And he explained their desire to join the Emperor Team.
The three old men stared at him, their faces a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. And then, a look of profound, almost painful, conflict.
'The Treasure Silver Civet team,' Meng Shenji thought, his mind reeling. 'They wish to join us? To join the Emperor Team?'
He had, of course, read the reports. He knew of their monstrous, impossible power. A Support System Spirit Master with the legendary Nine Treasure Glaze Tile Pagoda. An Agility Attack Type with a ten-thousand-year-old fourth Spirit Ring. And a Control System user whose power was still a terrifying, unknown variable.
'To add them to the team,' he calculated, his mind a cold, pragmatic machine, 'would not just make the Emperor Team stronger. It would make them… unstoppable. The championship of the Continental Tournament… it would be a certainty.'
But the price…
'To accept them would mean replacing our own students,' Bai Baoshan thought, a flicker of genuine, grandfatherly affection in his eyes. 'Yu Tianheng, Dugu Yan… we have nurtured those children for years. They are the pride of our academy. To simply cast them aside…'
It was a difficult, painful choice. But in the end, it was not a choice at all. The potential glory, the alliance with the now-even-more-powerful Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect… it was an opportunity they could not afford to refuse.
Meng Shenji sighed, a long, weary sound. "Come," he said, his voice a quiet, resigned murmur. "Let us introduce you to the team."
They were led to a large, private training field at the back of the academy. The seven members of the Emperor Team stood there, a picture of youthful power and arrogant pride.
Yu Tianheng, the captain, stood at their head, his handsome face a mask of cool, confident authority.
Beside him stood Dugu Yan, the vice-captain, her beautiful, seductive face holding a faint, bored expression. But the moment she saw Zhang Tian, her boredom vanished, replaced by a brilliant, beautiful happy light.
'He's here!' she thought, her heart giving a small, excited leap. She had never forgotten him. The handsome, brilliant boy who had saved her, who had saved her grandfather, who had given them a new life.
And she was not the only one. At the back of the group, a quiet, ethereal girl with a veil covering the lower half of her face, Ye Lingling, the team's healer, also had her eyes glued to his handsome, perfect face.
Yu Tianheng saw the look on Dugu Yan's face, and his own expression, which had been one of cool, confident pride, immediately soured. A dark, angry frown marred his handsome features. He had been trying to pursue the beautiful, poisonous snake for years, and she had always treated him with a cool, dismissive indifference. And now, at the mere sight of this boy, she was looking at him with a light he had never seen before.
Meng Shenji cleared his throat, the sound a sharp, authoritative crack in the tense, silent air. He introduced the three newcomers. And then, he made the announcement.
"These three," he said, his voice a firm, non-negotiable command, "will be joining the Emperor Team. Which means that three of you will be stepping down."
A wave of pure, unadulterated shock washed over the seven members of the team.
Meng Shenji held up a hand. "However," he continued, his voice a low, placating sound, "we are an academy of fairness. They will not simply be given their spots. They will earn them. Who among you wishes to challenge them?"
The silence that followed was a thick, heavy thing. And then, a single voice, a sharp, aggressive sound, cut through the air.
"I will."
It was Osler, the team's Agility Attack Type Spirit Master, a young man with a lean, predatory build and the Black Leopard Spirit. He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Zhu Zhuqing.
"I have heard the rumors," he said, his voice a low, challenging growl. "They say the Hell Civet of the Treasure Silver Civet team is the fastest Spirit Ancestor in the capital. I wish to test that claim."
Zhu Zhuqing just looked at him, her expression one of cool, almost bored, indifference. "You are a three-ring Spirit Elder," she stated, her voice a blade of ice. "This will not be a fair fight."
She then looked at the three board members. "I will only use my first three Spirit Rings. And I will suppress my spirit power to match his. That should be a fair enough handicap, should it not?"
Osler's face flushed a deep, furious red at her casual, condescending dismissal of his power.
"And I," a new voice, a deep, rumbling sound of pure, arrogant pride, cut in. It was Yu Tianheng. He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Zhang Tian. "I will challenge you."
Zhang Tian just smiled, a calm, easy expression. "I accept," he said. He then also looked at the board members. "And I will also only use my first three rings, and the spirit power of a Spirit Elder. You three Seniors can be our witnesses."
Yu Tianheng was a Level 38 Spirit Elder. It was a fair, and incredibly, shamelessly, and beautifully arrogant, offer.
And now, only Rongrong was left. No one had challenged her. A dangerous, fiery light entered her eyes.
"Well," she said, her voice a sweet, innocent sound that held a dangerous, underlying threat, "since no one has the courage to challenge me, I suppose I will have to choose my own opponent."
She looked at the remaining members of the team. Her gaze settled on one of the two massive, identical twin brothers, Shi Mò, the team's defensive pillar, a man with the Black Turtle Spirit.
She pointed a delicate, elegant finger at him. "You," she declared, her voice a clear, confident chime. "I choose you."
She then also offered the same, condescending handicap.
The challenges had been issued. The stage was set.
They were all led to a large, empty training field a short distance away. The fights would occur one by one.
The large, empty training field was a place of tense, expectant silence. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on the soft, manicured grass. On one side of the field stood Osler, the Agility Attack Type Spirit Master of the Emperor Team. His posture was a study in arrogant confidence, his lean, predatory body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash its power.
Opposite him stood Zhu Zhuqing. She was a statue of cold, calm indifference, her beautiful, seductive form a stark, beautiful contrast to the raw, untamed aggression of her opponent.
Meng Shenji, one of the three board members, stepped to the center of the field, his expression a mask of grim, professional neutrality. "This will be a one-on-one spar," he announced, his voice a clear, authoritative sound that carried across the entire field. "The rules are simple. The first to be knocked unconscious, to surrender, or to be judged incapable of continuing the fight, loses. Are both combatants ready?"
Osler gave a sharp, confident nod, a predatory grin on his face.
Zhu Zhuqing simply inclined her head, a gesture of bored, regal acknowledgment.
"Then," Meng Shenji declared, his voice a sharp crack in the silent air, "let the battle begin!"
The moment the word left his lips, Osler exploded into motion.
'I will end this quickly,' he thought, a surge of pure, arrogant pride washing over him. 'This girl, for all her fame, is still just a woman. And she has foolishly suppressed her power. I will show her the true meaning of speed!'
He stamped his foot, and his first Spirit Ring, a simple, yellow one, flared to life. "First Spirit Ability: Leopard's Pounce!"
His body was a blur of motion, a black phantom that shot across the field, his hands, which were now covered in a set of sharp, obsidian-like claws, aimed directly at Zhu Zhuqing's throat.
He was fast. By the standards of a normal Spirit Elder, he was incredibly fast.
But Zhu Zhuqing was not a normal Spirit Elder.
She did not even summon her Spirit. She did not use a Spirit Ring. She simply… moved.
Her feet, clad in simple, black stockings, traced a series of complex, ethereal unpredictable patterns on the soft grass. It was the Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track.
To the stunned, disbelieving eyes of the onlookers, it was as if she had not moved at all. One moment, Osler was about to strike her. The next, he was crashing through the empty air where she had been a fraction of a second before, his own momentum carrying him forward in a clumsy, undignified stumble.
She now stood behind him, her expression one of cool, almost bored, indifference.
A wave of shocked, disbelieving murmurs rippled through the watching members of the Emperor Team.
"What was that?" Shi Mò, one of the twin turtle brothers, grunted, his eyes wide. "I didn't even see her move!"
Yu Tianheng's handsome face, which had been a mask of cool, confident pride, now held a deep, angry frown.
Osler scrambled to his feet, his face a mask of humiliating shock. He spun around, his eyes blazing with a new, furious light.
"You got lucky!" he snarled. "Now, try this!"
His second Spirit Ring, another yellow one, flared to life. "Second Spirit Ability: Shadow Claws!"
He slashed his hands through the air, and five long, dark, and ethereal claws of pure, shadowy energy shot from his fingertips, a mid-range attack designed to tear his opponent to shreds.
Zhu Zhuqing still did not defend. She attacked.
Her own body dissolved into a blur of motion, a silent and terrifyingly fast shadow. It was her own self-created skill, a combination of Phantom Pounce and Silent Shadow Step.
She did not just dodge the Shadow Claws. She moved through them, a ghost in the wind. She appeared directly behind Osler, her own, magnificent Hell Civet Spirit finally materializing around her, a beautiful, deadly creature of the night.
Her first Spirit Ring flared to life. "Hell Stab Rush."
Her own claws, which were now long, sharp, and impossibly black, were suddenly coated in a thin cold layer of black ice.
She did not aim for a vital spot. This was a demonstration, not an execution. She simply raked her ice-coated claws across his shoulder.
Osler cried out, a sharp, pained sound, as a line of searing, biting cold shot through his body. He stumbled forward, a line of black frost spreading rapidly across the back of his uniform, his entire right arm going numb.
He was hopelessly outmatched. He knew it. Everyone knew it.
But his pride, his arrogance, would not let him surrender.
He roared, a sound of pure, desperate fury, and he unleashed his final, most powerful ability. His third Spirit Ring, a deep, majestic purple one, flared with a brilliant, shadowy light.
"Third Spirit Ability: Leopard Shadow Doppelganger!"
A perfect, ethereal, and completely lifelike shadow of himself detached from his body. The doppelganger, its eyes glowing with a faint, malevolent light, immediately shot towards Zhu Zhuqing, attacking her from the left, while the real Osler circled around, preparing to attack from the right.
It was a classic, and very effective, pincer maneuver. A way to overwhelm an opponent with a two-pronged assault.
Zhu Zhuqing just looked at the two oncoming attackers, and a faint, almost pitying, smile touched her perfect lips.
'An illusion?' her mind scoffed. 'Pathetic.'
Her own eyes, which had been a cold, indifferent black, suddenly flashed with a brilliant purple light. It was the Purple Demon Eye.
In an instant, the world, to her, was a different place. The doppelganger, which had been a perfect, lifelike copy, was now just a faint, wavering outline of pure, shadowy energy. And the real Osler… he was a blazing, brilliant inferno of spirit power, his every muscle, his every intention, laid bare before her all-seeing gaze.
She did not even bother with the clone.
She turned her attention to the real Osler, who was now in the middle of his own, desperate charge. Her third Spirit Ring, a deep, majestic purple one that pulsed with a power far, far beyond that of his own, flared to life.
"Eclipse Ray Strike."
But it was not the familiar, pure beam of darkness. This time, she infused it with a different element.
A beam of destructive black fire shot from her hand.
It struck Osler directly in the chest.
The impact was not a loud, explosive boom. It was a low, hungry fwoosh, as the black flames consumed his defensive spirit power in an instant. He was thrown backwards as if he had been hit by a battering ram, a smoking, blackened crater in the front of his uniform. He crashed to the ground, a good twenty meters away, a broken, unconscious heap.
The illusory doppelganger, its master defeated, simply dissipated into a wisp of harmless black smoke.
Zhu Zhuqing stood over his unconscious form, her expression unchanged. Cold. Bored. She retracted her Spirit.
A profound, stunned silence fell over the entire training field. The members of the Emperor Team just stared, their faces a mask of pure shock.
Meng Shenji looked at the unconscious boy, then at the calm powerful girl who stood before him, and a slow, weary sigh escaped his lips.
He declared Zhu Zhuqing the winner.
Osler was carried off the field by a pale, shaken-looking Ye Lingling.
The mood was no longer just tense. It was a funeral.
And then, Yu Tianheng stepped forward. His handsome face was no longer just a mask of angry pride. It was a grim, stony landscape of pure, unadulterated resolve. The casual, humiliating defeat of his teammate had been a slap to his face. To the face of his clan. To the face of the entire Emperor Team.
He had to restore their honor. He had to win.
He looked at Zhang Tian, and his eyes were blazing with a cold, blue, and incredibly dangerous light.
"Let's see if the rumors about you are true," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl, "or if you are just a pretty boy who hides behind his women."
Zhang Tian just smiled, a calm, easy expression that seemed to mock his opponent's serious, aggressive posture.
"By all means," he said.
He stepped onto the field.
A brilliant, dazzling, and incredibly powerful blue light erupted from Yu Tianheng's body. A magnificent, terrifying phantom of a Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon appeared behind him, its serpentine form crackling with a raw, untamed electrical energy.
Opposite him, Zhang Tian was a picture of calm, understated power. He simply raised a hand, and a single, unassuming, and almost laughably weak-looking crimson blade of grass appeared in his palm.
It was the noble, roaring dragon, versus the silent, unassuming grass. A classic mismatch, on the surface.
Meng Shenji took his position once more.
"Let the second battle," he declared, his voice a grim, somber sound, "begin."