The harsh morning scraped over the battered bodies of Shrek's students like coarse sandpaper. Zhao Wuji seemed to feed off their exhaustion from the day before, unleashing his usual cascade of grueling exercises like an unrelenting torrent. Each lunge throbbed through aching muscles, every squat echoed the strain of battle, resonating like the remnants of war lodged in their bones. Only when their sweat-clumped eyelashes finally parted and they sank into the healing embrace of hot herbal baths—crafted by Fu Huan—did they find fleeting, blissful relief. Stirring the fragrant decoction with deliberate grace, Fu Huan watched over them, her eyes drifting from face to face, catching even the faintest shadows of fatigue or discomfort. In response to their murmured thanks, she merely nodded slightly. Her face remained unreadable, but the fluid motion of her hands hinted at quiet care—like a flower forcing its way through stone. In her thoughts reigned the familiar clarity: analysis of the baths' effectiveness, subtle fluctuations in the students' soul energy.
The dining hall buzzed with a lively, albeit hoarse, energy. A hearty breakfast vanished from plates with astounding speed, sucked into the vortex of hunger. Mubai, devouring a hefty portion of fried meat, grunted contentedly, "This is what makes all that hell worth it—being full after the abyss." Rong Rong, usually picky with food, eagerly spooned up sweet rice porridge brightened with fruit, casting sidelong glances at Oscar, who was mid-story, his still-shaking hands flailing in animated gestures from the morning drill. Tang San ate in silence, focused as ever, reviewing the sensations from the previous battle and pondering the strange, intense training session of Fu Huan's that he'd glimpsed out of the corner of his eye. Only Xiao Wu kept teasing him with playful pinches and jokes, trying to coax a word from his lips.
Fu Huan herself trained apart from them, removed from their worldly noise. In the courtyard stood a complex launch mechanism, bombarding her from all directions with a hail of projectiles—dull wooden bolts, fragile clay spheres, and even lightweight, razor-edged leaves gliding through the air like deathly blades. Her eyes were tightly shut, immersed in the realm of inner vision. With startling grace, like a dancer attuned to inaudible music, she dodged most of the flying objects, her body bending and twisting with astonishing agility, like water flowing around obstacles. Some missiles were harmless—floating leaves—but she had to remain hyper-aware, refining her instincts and minimizing excess movement. In split seconds, her mind calculated every trajectory, determining flawlessly whether to dodge or allow a leaf to brush past her skin. Some projectiles she deflected with swift, almost inhuman flicks of her hands, yet others—mocking her precision—still found their mark, reminding her that perfection remained just out of reach.
Suddenly, the morning stillness shattered with the sharp sound of frantic footsteps skidding across gravel. A small figure burst through the academy's gate, splintering the fragile quiet. Golden hair streamed behind her like tangled sunrays, and her tear-streaked face, twisted in horror, was a mask of unbearable pain. She looked no more than ten or eleven—a frail stalk snapped by storm. She stumbled on the threshold, nearly falling, her clothes dirty and torn, testifying to a long, tormented chase. Raising enormous, ocean-blue eyes filled with despair to the Shrek students, she rasped as though her throat had dried up:
"Help… they… they're coming for me!"
Instinctively seeking shelter like a baby bird, she flung herself at Fu Huan's still figure, her small body trembling with silent sobs. Fu Huan seemed to watch the unfolding drama with detached calm, but something in her gaze made it clear—this child would not be handed over so easily.
"I think it would cost you nothing to return the girl," spoke one of the three men who had entered, his voice coarse and commanding, like scraping steel. "She fled from our clan. We're here to reclaim our… property."
The girl flinched at his words, clutching the hem of Fu Huan's training robe tighter, her pale fingers pressing with desperation as if gripping the last straw.
Ignoring the man whose threats bled from every word, Fu Huan slowly knelt to meet the girl at eye level. Her movements were calm and fluid, like a gentle river's flow. She softly brushed a tear from the child's cheek with her thumb.
"Do you want to return to that clan, or is it a bad place for you?" Her voice—usually cold and distant—was now surprisingly gentle, like a breath of cool wind. She searched the girl's wide, terrified eyes, trying to glimpse the truth within them.
"No…" whispered Jin Yue, her voice quivering like an autumn leaf. "If I go back… Mother… she'll whip me again… she already killed Papa… I saw her put something in his food… but he didn't believe me… and now… now…"
"I don't have time for this. My mistress ordered you to return immediately!" the man snarled, his patience snapping as five soul rings flared around him. Unlike the overconfident Soul King from the day before, this one's configuration was far more dangerous: two yellow, two purple, and one black—an ideal balance of strength and experience. His battle spirit, a massive scaled crocodile, radiated a sinister aura. The two men behind him released their own spirits: both Spirit Masters, each with two purple rings, clearly above level forty.
"My name is Wei Bo," the first Soul King declared haughtily, casting a scornful look over the Shrek students. "If you don't hand over the girl, your pathetic academy will fall. We, the Wei Clan, never forget a grudge."
The air seemed to chill, the pressure around them growing tangible. Fu Huan, whose face rarely betrayed emotion, now frowned slightly. The mention of her academy clearly struck a nerve.
"As acting dean," her voice rang out clear and firm, like a bell toll, "I declare this girl a student of our academy. Without my permission, she is not to leave the premises."
Wei Bo merely sneered, but Tang San, Xiao Wu, and Dai Mubai—watching nearby—exchanged surprised glances. Even Jin Yue seemed taken aback. Her ruby-red eyes widened, reflecting fear and dawning wonder. Though anxiety still flickered there, it mingled now with a timid hope for protection. A faint golden glow shimmered in her gaze like grains of time. The golden pollen in her hair—previously dormant—sparked faintly to life. For a fleeting moment, her eyes turned hazy again, as if catching whispers on the wind… Two girls stood face to face—one, an embodiment of quiet strength; the other, fragile and defenseless. Yet something invisible seemed to connect them.
Fu Huan stood firmly beside Jin Yue, an unseen shield.
"We'll just take her by force," growled Wei Feng, the second Soul King, his eyes narrowing with rage. "And don't think this will end well for your academy, girl."
From the corner of her eye, Fu Huan noticed the others—Tang San, Xiao Wu, and Dai Mubai—ready to step in, their soul energies beginning to subtly stir.
Spatial Distortion. An invisible wave of force twisted the air around Wei Bo, slowing his perception and movements as if he were wading through thick syrup.
Moving with otherworldly grace, like a ghost slipping through walls, Fu Huan revealed her inhuman speed.
"First soul skill: Crocodile Tail!" roared Wei Bo, trying to defend himself—but in the distorted space, his strike crawled forward like a sluggish dream. The tail, like a steel whip, surged toward Fu Huan, yet to her, it moved with the lethargy of a drowsy snail.
In a blink, she closed the distance between them. With a single thought, her third soul ring gleamed.
Spatial Rend!
A razor-thin, invisible blade of energy sliced through the air like jagged glass. At such close range, the strike hit Wei before he could react, as if the icy hand of death had brushed his armored skin. A deep, bleeding gash opened across his flank. Fu Huan, weightless as a feather, leapt and slashed again—this time aiming for vital points.
Driven into a frenzy by pain and fury, Wei Bo simultaneously activated two soul skills.
Crocodile Charge! Crocodile Armor!
His body was coated in thick, bony plating, and his assault grew fiercer, more desperate. But Fu Huan's powers were not limited to mere physicality.
What looked like a simple sweep of her arm—
"Fourth soul skill: Fractured Space, variation."
An invisible force—like a giant, clenched fist—smashed into Wei Bo's armored body. The sound of cracking bones rang out as the Soul King was hurled backward like a ragdoll, crashing into the academy's stone wall. Blood gushed from his lips, and his eyes rolled back. He could no longer rise.
Seeing his comrade beaten to a pulp, Wei Feng stood stunned. Though he held the rank of a Level 58 Soul King and technically stood above Wei Bo, their strengths were near equal, and their martial spirits were comparable.
"Wait, girl!" Wei Feng cried, his voice trembling with fear and fury. "Would you really make an enemy of our clan for the sake of a girl you've just met? I'm not the strongest—our clan holds Soul Emperors!"
But Fu Huan did not waver.
"My teacher is a Soul Douluo," she said coldly, her voice firm and unshakable. "Why should I fear Soul Emperors, when all of Shrek Academy stands behind me?"
At that moment, the trio of Shrek students finished off their own opponents and stepped behind Fu Huan, standing as one.
Wei Feng hesitated, already considering fleeing and abandoning his comrades to fate—when a voice, as frigid as the void, sealed his fate.
"Golden Coffin."
Without restraining her soul power, Fu Huan summoned a construct of terrifying density. A golden cube shimmered into existence around Wei Feng. Then, like a swarm of enraged bees, hundreds of razor-sharp golden swords erupted within.
She did not strike to kill—but to maim, to ensure they would never return with vengeance. After fifteen agonizing seconds, the golden construct dissipated. Wei Feng collapsed, drenched in blood, garments in tatters, his breath ragged.
He could say nothing. He understood now: before this girl, he stood no chance. Only Soul Emperors might pose a threat to her. Soul Kings were but fleeting obstacles.
Dragging their broken bodies, Wei Feng and the remnants of the Wei Clan staggered from the battlefield in utter defeat.
With wide, ruby eyes filled with awe, little Jin Yue looked up at Fu Huan. There was reverence in her gaze, and something more—a timid question unspoken: Could this powerful, mysterious young woman truly become her… master?
Though no formal bond had yet been sworn, something deep within her stirred at Fu Huan's presence. Now that the crippling fear had ebbed, replaced by curiosity, Jin Yue studied the faces around her. And in the cold, yet now strangely softened eyes of Fu Huan, she sensed something inexplicably familiar—an ancient thread long lost.
"Mmm… Ma… master…" Jin Yue stammered, testing the new word on her tongue.
Fu Huan tilted her head slightly, and a barely visible, sisterly smile graced her lips.
"You may call me Sister Fu, if you like. 'Master' is just a formality. But if you truly wish for me to take you in… I will not refuse."
"Big Sister… Did you feel it too?" whispered Jin Yue, her voice now steadier, her eyes bright with clarity.
Fu Huan nodded gently, understanding exactly what the girl meant—the strange bond that had formed in an instant between them.
"Yes. I felt it from the beginning," she said, her voice softer than usual. "You were too overcome by fear to notice, but you ran to me instinctively."
Tang San and the others exchanged glances, puzzled by the talk of "connection," but they could feel it too—something personal, something sacred.
As if waking from a dream, Jin Yue suddenly remembered she had yet to properly introduce herself.
"Forgive my rudeness," she said, her voice stronger now. "My name is Jin Yue. My martial spirit is the Hourglass. I am a Level 22 support-control type battle master. I'm ten years old."
(Yue Jin… Golden Moon… that's what Father always called me.)
"Tang San," said the blue-haired boy in his measured tone.
"Xiao Wu," chimed in the girl with the long braid, her usual charm lighting up her smile.
"Dai Mubai," the tall youth with tiger eyes introduced himself with authority.
"And you are now…" Mubai began, turning to Fu Huan.
"She'll stay with me," Fu Huan said firmly, cutting him off. "First, I'll clean her up. Then we'll introduce her to the rest."
"…Alright, Fu," Mubai nodded, offering no argument.
They bought Jin Yue a simple yet lovely outfit from nearby shops, helping her shed the appearance of a fugitive. Upon returning to the academy, Fu Huan and Yue were left alone in Fu's chambers.
Exhausted by all she had endured, Jin Yue fell asleep in Fu Huan's arms, as if she had finally found shelter. Without realizing it, Fu Huan gently held the girl close. Words were unnecessary—for between them bloomed an invisible bond, like two kindred souls reunited at last.
They lay there in peaceful silence.
Mubai, peeking into Fu Huan's quarters to check in, paused at the sight:
Two ethereal beauties—like celestial sisters—slumbering in each other's arms.
He quietly stepped away and informed the others: Fu Huan and her new companion were resting.
.