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Martial Soul Department – Head Instructor's Office
The spacious, sunlit office held all ten homeroom teachers of the freshman classes, each wearing a different expression.
At the head of the room sat Du Weilun, the Dean of the Outer Court, his fingers idly flipping through a thick stack of documents, his expression unreadable.
After three days of fierce competition, 150 teams had emerged victorious—earning the right to continue their studies at Shrek Academy. And a teacher's performance was measured, in part, by these very results.
"Thank you all for your hard work these past days," Du Weilun began with a diplomatic opener—but it did little to ease the tension. He sorted through the lists in his hand. "The round-robin stage is now complete, and student performance has been outstanding. Especially Teacher Mujin's class—thirty teams advanced."
He held up the thickest stack, genuine praise in his voice.
"A 60% advancement rate… truly impressive."
"The Dean flatters me," Mujin replied demurely—but her smile betrayed her pride.
After all, surpassing the 50% threshold meant a promotion in her teaching rank.
Sure enough—
"After all these years, it's time your rank was elevated," Du Weilun stated flatly.
The other eight teachers exchanged envious glances—and mentally noted Mujin's teaching methods, wondering if they should adopt them next year.
Du Weilun then announced the other classes' rates—none exceeding 50%, most hovering around 40%.
Until—
"Class One—Zhou Yi…"
"Advancement rate: roughly 80%."
The office fell into an eerie silence.
Twenty points higher than Mujin's—yet not a single congratulatory word was spoken. Even Du Weilun's face turned ashen.
Because his stack for Class One held only a few thin sheets.
Every teacher instinctively turned toward Zhou Yi.
There stood an elderly woman—dressed in a simple white robe, her skin wrinkled like parchment, her silver hair coiled tightly atop her head. She listened expressionless… then stepped forward calmly.
"Thank you for the praise, Dean."
CRASH—!
The deafening sound of splintering wood echoed through the room.
Du Weilun—a Soul Douluo in a rage—had slammed his palm onto the desk, shattering it into kindling.
A shockwave sent papers flying.
The teachers' faces grew even more awkward. Only Mujin—Zhou Yi's longtime rival—allowed herself a smirk. But even she stayed silent.
"Zhou Yi! Do you think I'm praising you?!" Du Weilun roared, thrusting the meager list at her. Zhou Yi caught it effortlessly, her expression stiffening.
"Is my class's advancement rate not high enough?"
"High?" Du Weilun nearly laughed in fury. He gestured at the list—only four teams, twelve students. Every other class (excluding the anomalous Class Nine) had three to four times more qualifiers!
"If we only cared about advancement rates… you, Zhou Yi, wouldn't be stuck as a freshman homeroom teacher!"
Zhou Yi remained unmoved. "I teach freshmen only because higher-year students—those incompetents—complained they couldn't handle my methods. The academy's rules judge by advancement rate. Nothing more."
"Fine! Fine! Fine!" Du Weilun seethed. If not for Fan Yu—Head of Soul Engineering and future Vice-Dean—shielding Zhou Yi, he'd have expelled her long ago.
How many times have I cleaned up your messes?!
Your record looks pristine—but what about MY reputation?!
"Get out!"
Zhou Yi didn't hesitate. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she slammed the door behind her—clearly not her first time storming out.
The other teachers exchanged knowing glances and quietly slipped away, eager to avoid Du Weilun's redirected fury.
Alone in the wreckage, Du Weilun sighed, his earlier good mood—sparked by Mujin's success—utterly gone. He knelt to tidy the mess.
…
Outside in the corridor
Once clear of their superior's glare, the teachers relaxed—and began chatting.
The veteran homeroom teacher of Class Two shook his head. "Again? Every year Zhou Yi's in charge of freshmen, this happens."
"Hmph—freshmen?" Mujin sneered. "It's not just freshmen! She expels students at any level—core disciples included! Pure chaos. If not for Dean Du cleaning up after her…"
"Enough, Teacher Mujin," Class Two's instructor chided half-heartedly—then joined the others in congratulating her.
Some teachers couldn't hide their envy.
After all, Class Nine alone produced two Soul Grandmaster-led teams.
What luck.
Just then—
Zhou Yi appeared around the corner.
Her eyes were glacial.
She'd heard every word.
The congratulations died. Zhou Yi and Mujin locked eyes—sparks flying, cold as Arctic ice.
"Only brave enough to gossip behind my back?" Zhou Yi mocked.
"I'd say it to your face," Mujin shot back, fury rising at the memory of her brother—expelled by this "old hag" years ago. "Any teacher here could achieve your '80%' by culling students! But we don't—because we owe these kids responsibility! Our duty is to carve rough wood into fine art—not just polish the already-perfect and call it a day! What value do you even add?!"
Zhou Yi's face darkened. "My methods need no validation from you."
"Ah—you're out of arguments," Mujin taunted, reading her rival like an open book. Then, with a sudden challenge: "Care to wager?"
"On what?"
"You've always claimed your teaching is flawless," Mujin pressed, voice deceptively calm. "So let's see how confident you are in your teams."
Zhou Yi's eyes narrowed. She recognized the provocation—and knew Class Nine's strength.
Too high a bet? No—I'm not foolish.
"Top Four," she declared. Arms crossed, her right finger tapped her left arm. "One soul bone. Do you dare?"
At "soul bone," Mujin's pupils contracted. Other teachers rushed to intervene, forming a human barrier between the two women.
But neither would back down.
Mujin had absolute faith in her teams: Class Nine would claim two Top Four spots; the other two would go to Classes Two and Five. Class One? No chance.
"I accept!"
The wager was set.
Both women radiated unshakable confidence.
Just then—
"I'll be the witness!"
All turned to see Du Weilun emerging from his office.
Their shouting had drawn his attention—but he'd deliberately let it escalate.
'Let Mujin humble Zhou Yi,' he thought. 'Maybe a loss will curb her recklessness.'
As for Mujin losing?
He had full faith in this year's freshmen's strength.
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