The days at Shrek Academy settled into a rhythm as unforgiving as it was transformative.
Dawn runs gave way to Grandmaster's theoretical lectures on spirit variation, ring absorption limits, and tactical team composition. Afternoons were reserved for practical combat—sparring circles drawn in the dirt, wooden weapons clashing, soul rings flashing in controlled bursts. Evenings belonged to individual cultivation or, for those who could bear it, extra training under whichever teacher was willing.
Jin Mori became the teacher no one had expected.
He did not lecture from the front of the class like Grandmaster, nor did he chase tuition like Flender. Instead, he moved among the students like quiet wind—correcting a stance here, offering a word of insight there, demonstrating a movement only once and then letting them struggle until they understood it themselves.
The Seven Devils changed, slowly but unmistakably.
Dai Mubai's arrogance tempered into something closer to responsibility. Zhu Zhuqing's icy walls began to thaw, not from warmth, but from the realization that strength required trust. Oscar's jokes grew less defensive. Ma Hongjun learned breathing techniques from Mori that eased the burning urges of his Evil Fire Phoenix, giving him hours of clarity he had never known.
Tang San absorbed everything like a sponge, his analytical mind finding parallels between Mori's footwork and his own Tang Sect techniques. Xiao Wu practiced beside him, her playful energy sharpening into deadly precision.
But the most visible change—visible to those who truly watched—was in Ning Rongrong.
The spoiled princess still complained. She still rolled her eyes at mud on her robes and the lack of silk sheets. Yet every morning she rose for the runs without protest. Every afternoon she positioned herself more carefully in team drills. And every evening, when the others collapsed into exhausted sleep, she practiced her Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda's boosts alone under lantern light—pushing the duration longer, the percentage higher.
Mori noticed. Of course he noticed.
One week after enrollment, the academy scheduled its first true group trial: a supervised hunt in the forest bordering the academy grounds, meant to help the students seek suitable spirit rings or simply gain real combat experience against low-level spirit beasts.
Grandmaster and Mori would accompany them as overseers.
The night before the hunt, Ma Hongjun sought out Mori privately.
The chubby boy stood awkwardly outside Mori's small faculty room, scratching at his arms as faint red flames flickered beneath his skin.
"Teacher Jin…" he began, voice low with shame. "My Evil Fire… it's acting up again. I can't sleep. If it gets worse tomorrow, I might lose control during the hunt."
Mori studied him for a long moment, jade eyes gentle.
"Come inside."
The room was sparse—a simple bed, a wooden desk, one lantern. Mori gestured for Hongjun to sit on the floor. He sat opposite, legs crossed, staff laid across his lap.
"Close your eyes," Mori instructed. "Breathe with me."
He began a slow, rhythmic breathing pattern—deep inhale through the nose, hold, exhale through the mouth. As Hongjun followed, Mori placed two fingers lightly on the boy's wrist, sensing the chaotic flow of spirit power.
"Your flame isn't evil," Mori said quietly. "It's just unbalanced. Fire needs fuel and air, but also space to burn cleanly. Right now, yours is choking on itself."
A faint golden glow—not soul rings, but something deeper—emanated from Mori's palm. It seeped into Hongjun's meridians, guiding the raging phoenix fire into smoother cycles. The boy's breathing steadied. The flickering flames under his skin calmed to a warm ember.
After twenty minutes, Hongjun opened his eyes, tears glistening.
"I've never… it's never been this quiet before," he whispered. "Thank you, Teacher Jin."
Mori withdrew his hand. "The technique is yours now. Practice it nightly. And remember—your spirit doesn't define you. How you master it does."
Hongjun bowed deeply before leaving, a weight lifted from his shoulders.
Mori remained seated long after, staring at the lantern flame.
In his original world, he had once carried a fire of his own—rage, grief, the desire to destroy everything that hurt those he loved. It had nearly consumed him.
Teaching these children to control their inner flames felt like teaching his younger self.
The next morning, the group entered the forest.
Sunlight filtered through leaves in dappled patterns. The air hummed with spirit power—thousand-year beasts lurking deeper in, but near the edges roamed creatures suitable for the students' current levels.
Grandmaster assigned pairs: Tang San with Xiao Wu, Dai Mubai with Zhu Zhuqing, Oscar with Ma Hongjun, and Ning Rongrong alone—her auxiliary role making pairing difficult.
Mori walked at the rear, senses extended, ready to intervene only if truly necessary.
The first few hours passed productively. Tang San and Xiao Wu brought down a 400-year Luscious Rabbit, perfect for Xiao Wu's potential third ring. Dai Mubai and Zhu Zhuqing coordinated silently to fell a Shadow Leopard, their movements mirroring each other despite the emotional distance between them. Oscar and Hongjun worked surprisingly well—Oscar's recovery sausages keeping Hongjun steady as he burned through a pack of Flame Wolves.
Ning Rongrong, however, struggled.
Her role was support, but with no direct combat partner, she could only follow at a distance, boosting whoever came closest. Frustration built with every missed opportunity to contribute meaningfully.
When a 600-year Armored Rhinoceros charged unexpectedly from the underbrush—drawn by the commotion of the other fights—Rongrong found herself isolated.
She reacted on instinct, her Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda appearing in a burst of prismatic light.
"Seven Treasures turn out glass! First: Strength! Second: Speed!"
The boosts enveloped her own body—a technique she rarely used, preferring to support stronger teammates. The rhinoceros barreled toward her, horn lowered.
Rongrong dodged, barely. Her enhanced speed saved her, but the beast turned faster than expected. Panic flickered in her eyes.
She was not a fighter. Not yet.
The rhinoceros charged again.
This time, she tripped over a root, falling hard. The horn gleamed, inches away.
A blur of motion.
Mori appeared between her and the beast, one hand casually extended. His staff materialized, tapping the rhinoceros lightly on the forehead.
The massive creature—over three tons of muscle and armor—flew backward twenty meters, crashing through trees before landing unconscious, a neat circular dent in its skull plate.
Silence fell over the clearing.
The other students rushed over, weapons ready, only to find Mori helping Rongrong to her feet.
"Are you hurt?" he asked quietly, voice steady but eyes searching her face with concern.
She shook her head, silver hair disheveled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and lingering fear.
"I… I couldn't do anything," she whispered, voice breaking. "I'm useless alone."
Mori's hand lingered on her arm a moment longer than necessary.
"You survived," he said firmly. "You used your spirit correctly under pressure. That's not useless. That's the first step."
Grandmaster arrived, assessing the scene. "Teacher Jin's intervention was perfectly timed. The beast is suitable for a third or fourth ring. Rongrong—would you like to absorb it?"
She stared at the unconscious rhinoceros, then at Mori.
With newfound determination, she nodded.
The absorption process took hours. The others stood guard, sharing quiet conversation. When Rongrong finally opened her eyes, a new black soul ring orbited her pagoda.
Her boosts had risen—forty percent now, instead of thirty.
But more than power, something else had changed.
As the group prepared to head back, Rongrong fell into step beside Mori.
"Thank you," she said softly. "Again."
He glanced at her, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You did the hard part."
She hesitated, then asked, "Will you… teach me? Not just the team stuff. How to be stronger on my own?"
Mori considered her earnest expression—the pride still there, but now tempered with genuine desire to grow.
"I will," he agreed. "Starting tomorrow evening. Private lessons."
Her eyes brightened, a small smile breaking through.
In that moment, under the forest canopy, something fragile and precious took root.
Neither noticed Grandmaster watching from a distance, his sharp mind already theorizing about the mysterious teacher whose power seemed limitless—yet whose heart seemed bound by choice.
Far deeper in the forest, red eyes opened in the darkness.
An ancient presence stirred, sensing the ripple of something far older than this world.
The hunt had ended.
But something larger had just begun.