“Are these Soul Skills of mine all very powerful?
Hurry up and choose.
Your master is tired.
You should go register now.”
Ning Rongrong was stunned.
She stood before the bed, her chest heaving more and more heavily.
The emotions in her almond-shaped eyes shifted from disbelief to anger, then from anger to an indescribable mix of shame and irritation.
This demeanor was exactly like that of a scumbag who reveals his true colors after getting what he wants.
Use and discard.
And now he was even shooing her away.
“How can you be like this?” Ning Rongrong’s voice rose, tinged with grievance and anger.
“You can’t do this!
Big liar!
You promised me!”
Yang Xing remained motionless.
Ning Rongrong took action.
She grabbed Yang Xing’s shoulder and shook him hard.
“You said you’d teach me everything!”
She yanked his body from left to right.
“You have to teach me the Heaven-reaching Record!”
Then pushed him from right to left.
“And the Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate!”
Yang Xing was shaken like a dead fish, his head lolling from side to side, his whole body nearly twisted into a worm.
Yet his face showed no sign of life, letting Ning Rongrong drag him back and forth.
“Big liar master!
No way!
You must teach this young lady everything!”
Ning Rongrong shouted angrily as she pushed and pulled.
“And what right do you have to chase this young lady away?
Since you are this young lady’s master now, then what’s yours is this young lady’s!
And what’s this young lady’s is still this young lady’s!”
She pointed at the four walls of the room.
“Your house naturally is also this young lady’s house!
This young lady will stay as long as she wants!”
Yang Xing was shaken until his head felt like it would snap off.
But his response remained in that same tone of a dead pig unafraid of boiling water.
“Fine.
Stay as long as you want, whatever.”
He paused.
“But I’m still only teaching one Soul Skill.”
Ning Rongrong’s hands stopped.
She stood there, her slender, fair fists clenched so tightly her knuckles creaked, her small face flushed red with frustration.
This despicable Yang Xing, the big liar master.
He had already made her angry countless times today.
No one had made her this angry in years.
She was beyond furious now.
“You damn big liar master!”
After shouting this, Ning Rongrong, not caring that she was wearing a skirt, leaped directly onto Yang Xing’s bed.
Her knees landed precisely on Yang Xing’s side, her legs clamping inward as she straddled his reclining waist, looking down from above.
“Take that for lying!”
“And for only teaching one!”
“And for trying to chase this young lady away!”
Her hands alternated pinching and hitting, venting on Yang Xing’s body like kneading dough.
Her feet weren’t idle either, her heels slapping against his thighs.
Yang Xing endured it at first.
The body of a Titled Douluo felt a Soul Master in her twenties’ punches like tickles.
But he couldn’t withstand this girl finding a perfect angle, riding him tighter and tighter.
Two minutes later.
“Alright, alright!” Yang Xing’s voice finally carried a trace of helplessness.
“Get down!
You get down first!
Everything is negotiable!”
Ning Rongrong was panting.
Her fist still hovered in mid-air, ready to deliver another blow at any moment.
“Really?”
“Really, really, you get down first!”
Ning Rongrong finally gave a satisfied hum.
She rolled off the bed, her feet landing on the floor, the hem of her white dress fluttering up and then settling down.
She smoothed her short hair, which had become disheveled from the scuffle, and walked back to the broken table with her head held high and her chest out, sitting down properly.
She crossed her arms.
Her chin lifted high.
A victorious posture, brimming with arrogance.
Yang Xing crawled out of bed, bending at the waist, and walked back to sit opposite her at the table with a somewhat stiff expression.
The two faced each other once more.
The roles had reversed.
“Speak,” Ning Rongrong said, looking down at him imperiously.
“How are you going to teach me?”
Yang Xing rubbed his lower back, his expression carrying a hint of resigned helplessness.
“One step back,” he raised a finger.
“I’ll teach you one Soul Skill first.
Once you’ve learned it well and mastered it, I’ll teach you the next one.”
Ning Rongrong’s brows immediately furrowed.
Yang Xing quickly added,
“If you haven’t mastered even one, learning more won’t help.
It might even be worse.
Think about it yourself—if you try to cultivate several completely different systems at the same time, your energy will be scattered across each one, and you’ll end up half-baked in all of them.”
He looked at Ning Rongrong.
“Will that fulfill your idea of becoming a Soul Master with offensive capabilities?
Or do you just want something symbolic?
Like being a decorative vase?”
This struck a nerve.
Her lips twitched, and the crease between her brows softened slightly.
Yang Xing’s mind raced, thinking of a way to make things easier for himself, and he added another condition.
“I’ll give you an extra way to learn more Soul Skills,” he extended a second finger.
“You help me scout out talented individuals like yourself and bring them to me as disciples.
For every one I deem qualified, I’ll teach you an additional Soul Skill.”
Ning Rongrong narrowed her eyes.
“Can’t you find them yourself?”
“I’m lazy,” Yang Xing said matter-of-factly.
Ning Rongrong stared at his shameless expression.
She pondered for a long while.
To be honest, learning one at a time was indeed more reliable than cramming everything in at once.
She had hated cultivation since she was young, and the thought of cultivating several different systems simultaneously gave her a headache.
Besides, the extra condition wasn’t a bad deal.
Who was she, Ning Rongrong?
The young lady of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
How hard could it be to find a genius?
Finally, Ning Rongrong pouted and reluctantly nodded.
“Fine.”
“Which Soul Skill should I choose?”
Yang Xing spread his hands.
“You choose.”
Ning Rongrong hesitated.
Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate was truly powerful, ever-changing, and balanced in offense and defense.
Heaven-reaching Record had countless methods and endless variations.
Dual-Perfect Hands could heal injuries, Divine Mechanism Hundred-Refinements could create objects…
She hesitated for a moment, then looked up at Yang Xing.
“Which one suits me better?”
Yang Xing thought for a moment.
“Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Why?”
“You have an Auxiliary Spirit, and your Soul Power leans toward being diverse and complex.
The core of Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate is precisely ‘all changes returning to one,’ which aligns perfectly with your foundation.
Moreover, it integrates offense and defense.
Once you master it, you won’t have to fear anyone when going out alone.”
Ning Rongrong’s eyes lit up.
“Then Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate it is.”
She made her decision quickly and followed up with another question.
“How are you going to teach me?
Will you recite the methods to me, and then I’ll come here to learn from you every day after enrolling in Shrek Academy?”
Yang Xing looked at her.
The corner of his mouth curled into a faint smile.
That smile was inscrutable, with a hint of smugness at the corners of his eyes.
He slowly shook his head.
“No need.”
Ning Rongrong looked bewildered.
“What do you mean, no need—”
Before she could finish,
Yang Xing’s finger reached toward her.
His index finger touched Ning Rongrong’s forehead.
A light touch.
The fingertip felt warm.
Ning Rongrong was about to ask, “What are you doing?”
Boom.
There was no sound, no light.
But the sensation could only be described as a “boom.”
A vast, immense flow of information, beyond description, surged forth in Ning Rongrong’s mind.
Not words, not images—it was something more direct, like a legacy carved deep into the soul.
Primordial One Qi.
Central Palace positioning.
The Four Plates shifting through the seventy-two seasonal cycles.
All phenomena returning to oneness.
Each concept was beyond the capacity of language, yet in that instant, they were imprinted into her consciousness with absolute clarity.
It was as if someone had shoved an entire mountain into her mind, yet without bursting her skull.
A few seconds.
Only a few seconds.
The torrent receded.
Ning Rongrong’s pupils refocused.
She blinked once, then again.
It was as if she had surfaced from deep water, taking a sharp, gasping breath.
She looked at Yang Xing before her.
But what she saw was no longer the same.