The first night at Shrek Academy was never meant to be restful.
After the entrance tests, Flender—eyes gleaming with the greed of a merchant who had just acquired priceless treasure—declared a "welcoming banquet" in the village's largest restaurant. The meal was lavish by academy standards: roasted spirit beast meat, fresh vegetables from the nearby fields, and enough rice wine to loosen even the most guarded tongues. The Seven Devils sat around a large wooden table, awkward silences broken by Oscar's jokes and Ma Hongjun's enthusiastic eating.
Jin Mori sat at the edge, quietly observing.
Dai Mubai drank steadily, his gaze flickering between Zhu Zhuqing's icy profile and the empty cups piling before him. Zhu Zhuqing ate in silence, her posture perfect, every movement precise—yet her eyes betrayed the storm inside whenever they accidentally met Mubai's.
Ning Rongrong complained about the quality of the wine, the coarseness of the plates, the lack of proper servants—until Grandmaster's sharp glance quieted her. Even then, her dissatisfaction simmered, a princess forced to sit among commoners.
Tang San and Xiao Wu, used to simpler meals, ate gratefully and spoke little. Oscar tried to flirt with Rongrong, earning a haughty scoff. Ma Hongjun laughed too loudly at everything.
Mori said almost nothing, but his presence anchored the table somehow. When tensions rose—Rongrong snapping at Oscar, Mubai's temper flaring at Hongjun's teasing—Mori's quiet voice or subtle gesture defused it without effort.
After the meal, Flender dismissed them with a warning: "Training begins at dawn. Anyone late runs fifty laps around the academy."
The students dispersed to their shared dormitories—boys in one building, girls in another. Mori was given a small private room near the faculty quarters, a courtesy extended only because no one dared suggest a Titled Douluo-level expert share barracks with children.
But sleep did not come easily to anyone that night.
Moonlight spilled silver across the academy grounds, turning the dirt paths into ribbons of pale light. The air was cool, carrying the distant howls of spirit beasts from the surrounding forests.
Jin Mori stood alone on a low hill behind the dormitories, staff resting across his shoulders. He gazed at the stars—different constellations from his original world, yet somehow familiar. A quiet ache stirred in his chest. Memories of nights spent on rooftops with Daewi and Mira, laughing about nothing, planning impossible dreams.
He closed his eyes. In the true realm, his original self sat in eternal meditation, feeling every sensation of the avatar. A faint smile touched the god's lips.
Live well, little me.
A soft rustle of grass pulled him back.
Ning Rongrong stood at the base of the hill, arms wrapped around herself despite the mild night. She wore a simple sleeping robe over her clothes, silver hair loose and gleaming like starlight. Her usual confidence was absent; in its place was uncertainty.
"I couldn't sleep," she said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes. "This place… it's nothing like home."
Mori nodded, gesturing for her to join him. She climbed the hill slowly, settling a respectful distance away.
"Home is the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan fortress," she continued, voice softer than he had heard it before. "Servants everywhere. Crystal chandeliers. Gardens with spirit flowers that bloom only at night. Here… everything feels rough. Unpolished."
She hugged her knees, staring at the moon. "I thought coming here would be an adventure. Father said it would teach me humility. But I didn't expect to feel so… small."
Mori listened without interrupting. The wind stirred his hair.
After a long silence, he spoke. "Smallness isn't weakness, Rongrong. It's space to grow."
She turned to look at him, eyes searching. "You say things like that so easily. Like you've seen everything already. How old are you, really?"
He smiled faintly. "Old enough to know that pride can be a shield. And young enough to remember how heavy it feels when you finally set it down."
Rongrong's lips parted, but no retort came. For the first time in years, someone had spoken to her not as the precious heiress, not as the genius auxiliary spirit master, but as a girl carrying too many expectations.
"Why did you come here?" she asked instead. "Someone with your power… you could go anywhere. Join any sect. Even Spirit Hall would welcome you."
Mori's gaze drifted to the dormitories below, where faint lights still burned in a few windows.
"Because I sensed something here," he said. "Seven souls, each carrying burdens heavier than their age should allow. I thought… perhaps I could help lighten them. And maybe, in teaching, I'd remember what it feels like to walk alongside others."
Rongrong studied his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the quiet strength in his posture. Something warm flickered in her chest, unfamiliar and frightening.
"You helped me today," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "During the test. When Dai Mubai attacked… I felt something move me aside. It was you, wasn't it?"
Mori didn't deny it. "You weren't ready for that strike. But you will be, with time."
She bit her lip. "I'm not used to needing help."
"None of us are," he replied gently. "But the strongest people I've known were the ones who learned to accept it."
Silence fell again, comfortable this time.
Eventually, Rongrong stood. "I should try to sleep. Dawn comes early, right?"
Mori rose as well, offering a hand to help her down the slope. She hesitated, then took it. His palm was warm, callused from years of staff training, yet gentle.
At the bottom, she released his hand quickly, cheeks faintly pink in the moonlight.
"Goodnight, Teacher Jin," she said, the title feeling strange on her tongue.
"Goodnight, Rongrong."
She hurried away, heart beating faster than it should.
Mori watched her go, a soft exhale escaping him. The slow stirrings of something deeper—protectiveness, perhaps more—settled in his chest. He pushed it down gently. There would be time. This world moved at mortal pace, and he had chosen to walk it.
Dawn came brutally.
A thunderous knock on every door—Flender's doing—roused the students at the first hint of light. They stumbled onto the central field, bleary-eyed and grumbling.
Grandmaster stood waiting, hands clasped behind his back. Beside him was Mori, looking as refreshed as if he'd slept a full week.
"Today," Grandmaster announced, "we begin real training. But first—twenty laps around the village to wake you up. Teacher Jin has volunteered to run with you."
Groans rose from the group.
Mori smiled encouragingly. "Think of it as building endurance. I'll match your pace."
They ran.
Tang San and Xiao Wu took the lead naturally, followed by Zhu Zhuqing's silent grace. Dai Mubai pushed himself hard, as if punishing yesterday's indulgence. Ma Hongjun lagged, complaining about his Evil Fire acting up. Oscar kept pace with jokes. Ning Rongrong started strong but faltered by lap ten, her pampered body unused to sustained effort.
On lap twelve, she slowed to a walk, breathing hard.
Mori dropped back without a word, matching her stride.
"You don't have to babysit me," she muttered, embarrassed.
"I'm not," he said. "I'm running with you."
She glanced at him—he wasn't even breathing heavily. Irritation flared, then faded.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked between breaths. "You're… you could be anywhere."
Mori considered his answer carefully.
"Because I believe in you," he said finally. "All of you. But especially those who think they're not enough yet."
Rongrong's steps faltered. No one had ever said that to her—not her father, not her clan elders. They praised her talent, her pagoda, her future role. Never her.
She started running again, faster this time.
By lap eighteen, her legs burned like fire. Tears of frustration pricked her eyes.
Mori stayed beside her, silent support.
When they finally crossed the finish line—last, but together—the others were already stretching or collapsed on the grass.
Rongrong bent over, hands on knees, gasping.
Then, to everyone's surprise, she straightened and looked at Mori.
"Thank you," she said clearly, voice steady despite her exhaustion.
The other six turned to stare. Ning Rongrong, thanking someone?
Mori simply nodded, a quiet pride in his eyes.
Grandmaster's lips twitched in the faintest smile. "Good. Now—real training begins."
As the sun rose fully, casting golden light over the sweaty, determined faces of the Seven Devils, something shifted.
A team was beginning to form.
And at its edge stood a teacher whose power could shatter continents—running laps with children, offering quiet words under moonlight, choosing every day to walk among mortals.
In the distance, the Star Dou Forest rustled uneasily.
Something ancient watched.
Waiting.