The sun blazed overhead, casting golden rays upon the square before Shrek Academy, where crowds had gathered in hopeful anticipation. Adolescents and their anxious parents thronged the area, forming a long, serpentine queue. The entrance fee of ten gold coins did little to deter them — such was the renown of this celebrated institution.
Tang San and Xiao Wu, hands clasped gently together, waited patiently in line, their eyes quietly observing the people around them. Despite its legendary reputation, Shrek Academy exuded a modest air. Once a struggling establishment, it had risen through the ranks to prestige and fame — yet had never strayed from its rigid discipline and humble origins. Thanks to Fu Huan's timely support, the dilapidated structures with slanted rooftops and cracked walls were now memories of the past. In their place stood buildings that, while still simple, resonated with a new energy — one echoed in the eager gazes of aspiring students.
At last, they reached the registration desk, where a weary-looking teacher sat, his expression soured with boredom.
"Name?" he grumbled without so much as lifting his head.
"Yan Lin," came a trembling voice from the youth standing just before Tang San.
"Spirit?"
"Mad Dog," Yan Lin muttered, almost ashamed.
The teacher gave him a cursory glance before extending his hand.
"Roll up your sleeve. Let me see your hand."
Obediently, the boy complied. The teacher furrowed his brow slightly as he sensed the child's spirit power. He was nearly thirteen, but had yet to cross that threshold. What he saw in the boy's eyes was neither ambition nor resilience — only fear and uncertainty.
"Reveal your rings," the teacher ordered curtly.
Two dim yellow rings flickered around Yan Lin.
"Your spirit is unremarkable, and your cultivation barely scrapes past rank twenty. You've rushed your second ring — its color barely reaches four hundred years in age. You do not qualify," the teacher declared flatly, withdrawing his hand.
The boy's face fell. Shoulders slumped, he bowed his head and made his way through the crowd of sympathetic glances, vanishing from the square.
As the line grew shorter, so too did the pool of candidates. Many had clung to rumors of relaxed standards, hoping to find a miracle here. But Shrek remained as unyielding as ever, loyal to its demanding expectations.
By the time registration drew to a close, only four had made the cut: Ning Rongrong, Zhu Zhuqing, Tang San, and Xiao Wu.
Dai Mubai, who had been watching the process from nearby, took note of their names with mild interest.
"Follow me," the instructor said after closing the ledger. "You'll be meeting with Teacher Zhao. He'll be responsible for your combat training."
After walking a short distance through the academy grounds, they came upon a stout, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties. His rugged face and sharp gaze radiated an aura of strength — and a distinct lack of patience.
"Four of you, huh," he growled, sizing them up with a predator's scrutiny. "Not bad. Let's see how many survive my test," he added, a manic grin spreading across his face — one that sent shivers down Ning Rongrong's spine. This was Zhao Wuji, known far and wide for his ruthlessness and brutal training methods.
Tang San, Xiao Wu, Zhu Zhuqing, and Ning Rongrong introduced themselves one by one, trying to steady their nerves while showcasing their strengths. Tang San stepped forward first.
"I'm a level 30 Spirit Master, control-type. My binding abilities are highly durable and suited for team combat. I'm also quick enough to retreat when needed."
The noble daughter of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan, Ning Rongrong, spoke with elegance and poise:
"I am a level 27 support-type Spirit Master. In battle, I can enhance my allies' attack and movement speed by thirty percent, tailored to their individual needs."
Xiao Wu, brimming with energy and confidence, exclaimed:
"I'm Xiao Wu — agility-type. Fast and dangerous," she added with a mischievous grin.
Zhu Zhuqing, ever composed and distant, stated simply:
"Zhu Zhuqing, agility-type."
Having introduced themselves, the four quickly exchanged glances and began to discuss a rough plan of action. Naturally, it was Tang San who assumed the role of leader within this improvised quartet—his calm demeanor and strategic mind well-known among those who'd heard of him.
Zhao Wuji, who had been listening with a facade of disinterest while secretly gauging each of them with keen eyes, finally broke the silence.
"Dai Mubai," he called over his shoulder as he turned toward the training field, "join them. They clearly lack a power-type soul master."
Dai Mubai, who had been quietly observing the newcomers, tried to slip away unnoticed. But fate had other plans.
Like a wisp of mist, Fu Huan appeared beside Zhao Wuji. Her long violet hair danced in the wind, and her gaze, sharp and cold as the edge of a blade, pierced through the air. Zhao Wuji stiffened instinctively, aware that deceiving her was futile—her spiritual perception was far too acute.
After a brief pause, Zhao Wuji reconsidered. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to show the newcomers the standard they ought to strive toward. Yet, he couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what might happen should this girl let loose.
"You're not busy today, are you, Fu Huan?" he asked, masking his unease with an air of nonchalance.
Fu Huan tilted her head slightly, her eyes gliding over Zhao Wuji as if appraising his intentions.
"No, Teacher Zhao. Do you require something?" Her voice was soft, yet it carried a silent weight, like the stillness before a storm.
"I want you to handle the test for these four," he declared, gesturing to the gathered newcomers. "Dai Mubai will assist them in the battle against you."
Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing looked at Fu Huan with curiosity, trying to decipher the source of her strength. They had heard tales of the seniors' power, but to face someone of Fu Huan's level… it bordered on madness. Meanwhile, terror flickered in the eyes of Dai Mubai, Tang San, and Xiao Wu. Even a Saint-ranked spirit master didn't seem as terrifying as this slender girl.
"Uh… Teacher Zhao, wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to conduct the test?" Dai Mubai asked hesitantly, a chill creeping down his spine. "Fu Huan is a student like us. Isn't it inappropriate to involve her in evaluating others?"
Zhao Wuji chuckled, understanding the real reason behind the objection.
"Fu Huan is, in truth, no less than the acting vice-dean of the academy. Though she's technically still a student, do you really believe Flender would deny her anything she wishes?" he said with a knowing smile. "Besides, if you perform well, you'll avoid punishment for roughing up the newcomers."
Dai Mubai's hopes crumbled in an instant. The next half-hour would be spent battling Fu Huan.
The five quickly devised a makeshift plan. Dai Mubai, gathering his resolve, summoned his White Tiger spirit. Two yellow and one purple ring glowed around his formidable figure, a testament to his strength. Tang San and Xiao Wu wasted no time in summoning their own spirits.
To their surprise, Fu Huan did not summon anything. Dressed in a simple yet elegant robe that complemented her graceful form, she stood still, her eyes calmly observing, as though weighing their potential.
Zhu Zhuqing, skeptical despite the rumors she'd heard, was perplexed by the complete lack of spirit fluctuations around Fu Huan. Determined to probe her strength, she darted forward, her figure flickering like a phantom.
Appearing behind Fu Huan with her claws bared, Zhu Zhuqing prepared to strike. But what happened next defied reason. Fu Huan didn't even turn around. She simply stared straight into Zhu Zhuqing's eyes—as if she had foreseen every motion.
With a single graceful motion, Fu Huan extended one slender finger. A light touch—and Zhu Zhuqing was flung backward as if struck by a hurricane, landing exactly where she had started.
Realizing her misjudgment, Zhu Zhuqing retreated to her allies. Together, they launched a coordinated assault. Yet Fu Huan weaved through their attacks like a wraith, never once invoking a spirit skill. Tang San directed their formation skillfully, but even his calculations failed to breach her defense. Dai Mubai pressed forward with brute strength, his roars shaking the air.
"White Tiger Light Wave!"
"Power Boost!"
"Binding Net!"
"Thalia's Bow!"
"Claw Strike!"
Four powerful techniques—fortified by Ning Rongrong's buffs—converged on Fu Huan. Yet she remained unmoved. Stretching out four fingers, she spoke softly:
"Pale Lightning."
Four pale arcs of energy sprang from her fingertips, intercepting each attack with pinpoint precision. The skills dissipated as if they'd struck an invisible barrier. Fu Huan remained standing, untouched and serene.
Surveying the winded group, she exhaled lightly.
"If this is all you've got, I fear Shrek Academy is not for you."
Then, to everyone's astonishment, Fu Huan conjured a bow of translucent azure spirit energy in her hand. With practiced ease, she fired a volley of arrows—comets of force—toward each opponent save for Ning Rongrong, whom she merely stunned with a light tap.
The others were not spared. The arrows struck the ground beneath their feet, sending shockwaves that launched Xiao Wu and Zhu Zhuqing skyward. Tang San, summoning his last reserves, managed to block his arrow but was left spent. Dai Mubai shattered the projectile aimed at him using his third soul skill, but was left panting and drained.
"Fu Huan," Tang San called out, fire blazing in his eyes, "allow me to face you at full power."
Fu Huan arched an eyebrow, intrigued.
"If you can impress me, the four of you shall be admitted into the Academy, and Dai Mubai shall go unpunished."
And thus began a duel that burned like a forge at dusk.
Tang San fought like a desperate painter with one final masterpiece left in him. Ghost Steps and Ice Feathers, masterful manipulation of Blue Silver Grass, and even a touch of poison—he poured every ounce of skill into the clash. As she met his blows, Fu Huan was briefly reminded of an old companion—Shui Bing'er, long unseen.
Their battle was dazzling. Tang San was like a comet streaking across the heavens, dazzling in his fury. Yet Fu Huan used no soul rings, no techniques—only pure physical prowess. Tang San, in contrast, tapped into nearly every skill in his arsenal.
Gasping, he summoned his last spiritual strength.
"Second Soul Skill: Endless Bind!"
The Blue Silver Grass surged, covering the arena in an entangling maze. At the same time, a second spirit burst from his back—Clear Sky Hammer. Massive, obsidian, ringless—yet radiating terrifying force.
Fu Huan did not flinch. Destroying the grass took mere seconds—but it bought Tang San enough time. Drawing upon the hammer's full kinetic power, he closed the distance and launched his final, cataclysmic strike.
A deafening boom echoed across the field. Energy clashed in a vortex of force, shaking the very ground beneath them. For the first time, Fu Huan was forced back a few steps.
She looked up, her expression unreadable.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Fu Huan smiled faintly, applauding.
"You have impressed me," she declared. "You four are now students of Shrek Academy. Dai Mubai, your punishment is lifted. Teacher Zhao, I leave the rest to you."
With those words, Fu Huan vanished like mist scattered by the breeze—or more precisely, through a spatial rift. Only a whisper of wind remained, and the stunned silence of those left behind.
Exhausted, caked in dust, Tang San and Dai Mubai helped the girls to the dormitory.
Thus began their journey at Shrek Academy—a place where monsters are born.