The sun itself seemed delayed in rising, as if silently watching from behind the gray clouds that loomed over Shrek Academy's sky. This was no ordinary day. The air was thick with tension, with unspoken words, with expectations that weighed on the soul. From the earliest hours, students began trickling into the central plaza—some dragging their feet hesitantly, others rushing as if afraid to miss something monumental.
The plaza, usually alive with the clamor of training and laughter, had transformed into a silent coliseum, its eyes wide for the awaited spectacle. Students, teachers, even some alumni who had returned from distant places, sat on edge as if afraid to blink.
Deep down, they all understood—this duel was unlike any other. It wasn't a display of strength or a passing challenge. It was a declaration… a rebellion against constraints woven by tradition, a cry for liberation torn from years of silence and duty.
Everyone knew the story of Zhu Zhuqing and Dai Mubai. That engagement forced upon them by their clans years ago—a bond born without feeling, yet shackling them both in duty. But what no one anticipated… was Zhuqing's return. That quiet girl who had once left without a goodbye now stood at the center of the plaza, demanding battle.
She appeared first, walking with steady steps—neither hurried nor hesitant—as if the earth itself paved her way. Her black outfit clung to her like a second shadow, silver threads shimmering at its edges like boundaries woven between her past and present. Her long black hair was tightly tied into a ponytail, swaying softly behind her with each step. And in her eyes… there was ice that would not melt. A steady gaze, neither angry nor weak, only pure resolve—clear as an unclouded mirror.
The crowd watched in silence. No sound but the friction of her footsteps against the ground, as if time itself paused with each of her movements.
Yu Tian emerged behind her. He drew no attention with words or gestures. He didn't need to. His presence alone was enough to silence those around him. He stood behind her like a silent shadow, posture erect, arms behind his back, eyes never leaving her. He wasn't just support—he was a sheathed sword, waiting for the moment to be drawn if she needed him.
And after a moment of silence… Dai Mubai arrived.
His voice preceded his steps—a voice as hardened as his expression, laced with suppressed fury. The academy's golden uniform adorned his muscular frame, but it seemed dull compared to the storm of emotions raging within him. He carried a strange mix of anger and disbelief, as if still refusing to accept what was unfolding before him. His steps were violent, carving into the earth, and in his eyes burned a fire untouched by years or separation.
The crowd stiffened at his arrival, exchanging glances. No one had expected this reunion to take such a form. No one was prepared to witness a story written by force finally exploding into the open.
The Grandmaster stepped forward, clad in simple robes, yet his authority spoke louder than any regalia. His sharp gaze swept over the two combatants, his eyes reflecting solemnity—as if to say, "This is no game."
His voice cut through the silence:
"By the traditions of the academy and the clans, Zhu Zhuqing demands the annulment of the engagement through a duel of honor. The battle continues until surrender or incapacitation. External tools are forbidden. Are you prepared?"
Neither spoke. They only nodded. Their agreement was silent, yet heavy as stone.
The Grandmaster shouted, masking the conflict in his eyes:
"Begin!"
A moment passed—then Zhuqing moved.
She was like a shadow-leaping panther, every muscle in her body flexing with lethal grace, as if born to strike. Her advance wasn't reckless—it was a calculated dance, each step honed from years of discipline and restraint. She appeared, vanished, then reappeared from the left flank, as if the air itself couldn't keep up.
This wasn't a wild attack—it was a test. A pulse-check. A first slap against the wall of pride.
But the moment she neared the edge of danger, a solid force erupted before her—an energy shield crystallized in an instant, deflecting her with a light push.
Dai Mubai smirked, his voice laced with challenge and the ghosts of the past:
"Still relying on speed? That won't work on me anymore."
But Zhuqing wasn't aiming for direct damage. She was dancing on the edge, studying him like a warrior deciphering a war poem before the first blood is drawn. Her eyes never left his shoulders, reading the tension in his arms, the stance of his legs, the flickers in his pupils.
Then—a flash. A slip of shadow. Her body dipped at an impossible angle, striking beneath his exposed armpit—exploiting a gap only someone who knew his body as well as her own could see.
He was flung back two meters, stunned, unable to react in that first second.
Her voice was cold, neither angry nor mocking—just truth:
"I'm not who I was."
A beat of silence.
Then—the battle erupted like the gates of fury had been thrown open. No more calm. No room for the past.
Every move carried the weight of years. Every strike housed unspoken screams. Their footsteps drummed against the earth like an ancient war rhythm, each fighting not just to prove superiority, but to wrench a silent admission from the other:
"Look at what I've become… despite you."
Dai Mubai roared, unleashing his fourth spirit skill. His eyes blazed with golden light as his body transformed—fangs lengthened, claws extended, muscles bulged in terrifying unison, and his chest heaved with the roar of a wild tiger, as if reborn.
Each step quaked the earth. Each strike carried the weight of a mountain.
He lunged, claws shredding the air, closing the distance between them in a blink.
But Zhuqing didn't retreat.
She was waiting.
At the precise moment, her image dissolved—as if the world itself had erased her. In her place stood four dark shadows—copies of her body, moving in silent synchronicity, like a deathly dance from another realm.
Each shadow struck from a different angle—circles, drops, oblique cuts—the triad of death completed by the fourth, silent one.
Dai Mubai blocked the first, then the second—but the third struck from behind, and the fourth pierced his flank. Wound after wound, threads of blood streaked his reinforced skin.
Her whisper barely cut through the chaos, yet pierced deeper than any blade:
"Did you think strength alone was enough?"
He snarled, tried to counter—but the assaults didn't stop. Not a single second to breathe. Every clone attacked in staggered rhythm, an unbreakable tempo.
Finally—at the breaking point—he collapsed to his knees, gasping. His breath came in ragged bursts, his face a mix of fury and disbelief. He hadn't expected her to force him down.
And worse… he felt, in his core, that this wasn't even her full strength.
Dai Mubai gritted his teeth, limbs trembling from exhaustion. Blood dripped from his body, yet his expression refused surrender. Defeat loomed—but he knew this battle wasn't over. As he panted, an unfamiliar energy surged within him. The instincts of a wild tiger awoke… and with them, an old feeling—the need for vengeance.
"I can't surrender now…" he whispered to himself, as if convincing the soul within his body to erupt once more.