The entire Room Seven was silent as a grave.
Tang San stood in place, his expression shifting.
He could sense that if that finger strike had landed fully, he would have instantly lost his fighting ability.
Not only was the opponent’s movement far superior to his own, but his grasp of timing was even more terrifying.
And… he had held back in the end, leaving Tang San some face.
“I lost.” Tang San took a deep breath, suppressing the storm of emotions within, maintaining his outward composure.
“From now on, you’re the boss of Room Seven.”
[Ding! First victory over the Son of the Plane (in embryonic form), special reward triggered!]
[Congratulations, Host, for obtaining: Truth-Seeing Spirit Eyes!]
[Congratulations, Host, for obtaining: Mysterious Heaven Treasure Mirror!]
[Congratulations, Host, for obtaining: Martial Soul Mimetic Training Ground authority upgrade!]
Whoa!
As expected of the protagonist of Douluo Continent, what a huge haul.
Yan Zu inwardly rejoiced.
Feeling the new power in his eyes, Yan Zu looked out the window at a sparrow resting on a tree branch—in his vision, the trajectory of the sparrow’s flapping wings transformed into a clear stream of soul power, and not a single tremor of its feathers escaped his observation.
“Wow! Brother A’zu is amazing!” Xiao Wu was the first to cheer, bouncing over to Yan Zu’s side, grabbing his arm, her eyes filled with stars of admiration.
That radiant smile, that unreserved closeness, pierced Tang San’s eyes like a thorn.
Watching Xiao Wu cheer for Yan Zu, a feeling mixed with defeat, unwillingness, and some inexplicable emotion quietly sprouted in his heart.
This girl… if she were mine…
He shook his head, suppressing the absurd thought, turned, and walked toward his own bed, his back appearing somewhat stiff.
The children of Room Seven exchanged glances, and finally Wang Sheng was the first to speak, his voice muffled as he addressed Yan Zu, “Boss.”
The others followed suit, calling out one after another.
Yan Zu nodded, neither smug nor modest, simply saying calmly, “From now on, let’s look out for each other. The rules of Room Seven remain unchanged—strength is respected—but remember, we work-study students should be even more united.”
His voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried a convincing authority.
The atmosphere, which had been somewhat unsettled by the change in leadership, gradually stabilized.
That night, after lights-out in Room Seven.
Tang San lay on his hard plank bed, eyes open, staring at the pitch-black ceiling.
The scene from the day’s battle replayed repeatedly in his mind, every detail terrifyingly clear.
“His footwork… is definitely no ordinary soul skill. And that control over the rhythm of the fight…” Tang San clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm. Read the latest chapters at novelping.com.
“Father said there’s always someone better. But I never thought I’d encounter such an opponent here at Nuoding Academy… and that girl…”
Xiao Wu’s charming, smiling face appeared again, and the image of her standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Yan Zu made his chest tighten.
He quietly got up, threw on his outer garment, and slipped silently out of Room Seven, heading toward the teachers’ dormitory area.
He needed to tell his teacher about today’s events.
Yu Xiaogang’s room was still lit.
After listening to Tang San’s account, the theoretical master frowned deeply.
“Six years old, seven levels, Qilin Martial Soul?” Yu Xiaogang paced in the narrow room.
“A Detached Beast Martial Soul… Could it be a higher-level existence sharing the same origin as my Luo Sanpao? And that girl, Phantom Jade Rabbit, sounds like a mutated evolution…”
He suddenly turned, grabbing Tang San’s shoulders, his eyes flashing with excitement and obsession: “Xiao San, this Yan Zu is important! His Martial Soul might confirm some of my theories! You need to interact with him more, preferably… become friends, so I have a chance to observe and study him up close!”
Tang San lowered his head and replied, “Yes, teacher.”
Friends?
He silently repeated the word in his mind, thinking of the look Xiao Wu had given Yan Zu, recalling the humiliation of his crushing defeat today.
A trace of cold hostility quietly took root.
Meanwhile, in Dormitory Seven.
Yan Zu leaned against the headboard of his bed.
Xiao Wu had already squeezed in beside him and fallen asleep, still clutching the half-eaten bag of spicy strips.
Moonlight filtered through the window lattice, falling on the girl’s peaceful sleeping face.
Yan Zu began checking the rewards obtained from defeating Tang San.
The techniques, hidden weapon crafting, and other contents within the Mysterious Heaven Treasure Mirror weren’t of much help, but the pharmacology and herbal compendium inside were exactly what Yan Zu needed.
Next, he examined the upgraded functions of the Martial Soul Mimetic Training Ground access.
1.
Daily duration increased: Usage time extended from 4 hours to 6 hours (only 2 hours in real time).
2.
Scenario simulation function: Can preset combat environments (Star Dou Great Forest, swamp wetlands, snowy mountains, etc.) to enhance practical combat adaptability.
3.
Invitation capacity +1.
The Truth-Seeing Spirit Eyes emphasized “analysis” and “prediction,” leaning more toward combat assistance and skill countering rather than direct mental attacks.
“From now on, Tang San’s hidden weapons will have nowhere to hide before me.”
On the first morning of official classes, while the children of Dormitory Seven were still drowsily washing up, Tang San was already neatly packed, silently sitting on the edge of his bed organizing his textbooks.
His gaze occasionally swept to the other side of the room—where Yan Zu was gently smoothing Xiao Wu’s slightly messy, sleep-tousled hair with a damp cloth, his movements practiced and natural.
Xiao Wu half-closed her eyes, like a lazy cat, letting Yan Zu adjust her scorpion-tail braid.
The scene was so warm it stung the eyes.
Tang San lowered his gaze, stuffed the last book into his cloth bag, stood up, and left.
The wooden door closed behind him with a soft creak.
The theory classroom was on the second floor of the teaching building.
The tiered lecture hall, capable of seating a hundred, was about seventy percent full.
Most of the work-study students crowded in the back rows, except for Yan Zu and Xiao Wu, who chose middle-row seats by the window—good lighting, open view, yet not too conspicuous.
The theory teacher, Chen Qing, was a middle-aged Soul Master in his forties, with a “Scroll” Martial Soul, a twenty-ninth-level Great Soul Master.
He cleared his throat and opened his lesson plan: “Today, we’ll cover one of the foundational theories of Soul Master cultivation: the lifespan limits of spirit rings.”
A faint rustle of turning pages rose from the students below.
Teacher Chen wrote several numbers on the blackboard: “As we all know, there is an upper limit to the lifespan of spirit rings a Soul Master can absorb. According to the research of ‘Theoretical Master’ Yu Xiaogang, the limit for the first spirit ring is four hundred and twenty-three years.”
He drew a heavy line under the number “423.”
“This conclusion is based on statistics from a large number of Soul Master cases,” Teacher Chen continued.
“Exceeding this limit, a Soul Master’s body struggles to withstand the impact of the spirit ring’s energy. In mild cases, the Meridians may be damaged; in severe cases, it can lead to bodily explosion and death. Therefore, when obtaining your first spirit ring, you must choose carefully…”
His explanation was clear and well-organized, citing numerous data and cases from Yu Xiaogang’s papers.
It was evident he placed considerable trust in this theory.
Most students in the classroom were diligently taking notes.
Given Nuoding Academy’s remote location, having a Soul Master as a teacher was already a rare opportunity, so no one questioned these “authoritative conclusions.”
Except for Yan Zu.
He listened quietly, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the edge of his textbook.
The extraordinary perception granted by the Nine Yin Manual allowed him to clearly detect a subtle “recitation-like” quality in Teacher Chen’s tone—this teacher was merely repeating someone else’s theory without having deeply contemplated its underlying logic.
When Teacher Chen once again emphasized that “the limit of four hundred and twenty-three years cannot be exceeded,” Yan Zu raised his hand.
The gesture was gentle, but in a classroom where almost no one asked questions, it was conspicuous enough.
Teacher Chen was momentarily taken aback.
In his experience, most work-study students kept their heads down and focused on taking notes, rarely speaking up voluntarily.
He looked at the child who had raised his hand—it was that student with the unique spirit, Yan Zu.