Huo Yuhao shook his head slightly, not pursuing the matter further. Even with his current Eye of Truth, he still couldn't fully discern the nature of the spirit bone inside Wang Dong.
Aside from its obvious passive enhancement to physical strength, he could see nothing of its deeper functions. As for asking Electrolux, such things couldn't be explained in a few words.
"Alright, stop showing off," Yuhao said, pressing down on Wang Dong's shoulder. "Don't forget that Du Weilun just deducted ten points from your technique score."
Wang Dong pouted in protest. "What do you mean 'lack of technique'? He told me to kite that Bloodthirsty Demon Bear — how would he know I didn't plan for that? My Butterfly God Slash could've finished it anyway!"
Yuhao nodded lightly, not dismissively this time — he genuinely agreed.
After all, once Wang Dong got in close, that third soul skill of hers had completely torn open the bear's chest. Even if the beast could still fight, Wang Dong had full control of the rhythm.
Compared to the original timeline, Wang Dong's physical fitness and soul power reserves had been massively boosted by that unknown torso bone.
And under Yuhao's training, her tactical sense had also improved — not by much, but enough.
He could tell Du Weilun's deduction wasn't meant as criticism but as temperament polishing.
As the remaining students took their turns, most performances were mediocre at best. Few could truly exploit their martial souls or soul skills to strike at the beasts' weaknesses.
Aside from Wang Dong, the top score belonged to Dai Huabin, who tore apart a thousand-year beast with brute force — another perfect display in the teachers' eyes.
Still, Yuhao suspected the scores were adjusted deliberately. Wang Dong, as the class monitor of Class One, had to be kept even with Dai Huabin, the favored heir of the Martial Soul Department.
Politics, even here.
"Next — Second Year, Class One, Huo Yuhao."
The referee accepted Yuhao's examination form, glancing up. "Alright, which level of spirit beast will you choose?"
"Thousand-year."
The referee blinked. "Thousand-year? You sure about that? You're only a two-ring Spirit Grandmaster. We'll have instructors nearby to intervene, but accidents can still happen—"
"Thousand-year," Yuhao repeated calmly.
Seeing his unwavering expression, the referee gave up on persuasion.
Around the arena, a flicker of interest passed between the teachers. A two-ring student challenging a thousand-year beast wasn't common.
Let's see how this plays out, one murmured.
Yuhao stepped into the Beast Arena, the referee's safety instructions barely registering in his ears. This wasn't a test for him — it was an experiment.
The crowd murmured as his one yellow, one purple rings flared beneath his feet — a combination far beyond the standard configuration for a second-year.
High above, a frail old man quietly observed — Dragon God Douluo Mu En himself.
Yes, he had come to watch. With nothing better to do, curiosity had brought him here. After all, Yuhao had spent half a month shut away in the dorms. Mu En wanted to see what kind of tricks the boy had been brewing.
So this little one's just a commoner… yet he absorbed a thousand-year ring at two rings? No heavenly treasures, no body-tempering — interesting.
Could it be his main body martial soul combined with the Tang Sect's Xuantian Skill? Even Tang San once absorbed his third ring across levels… though no one since dared to attempt it.
Yuhao's opponent lumbered out of its cage: a Thousand-Year Variant Power Ape.
"Strong-attack type beast," Du Weilun muttered from the observation platform. "Tough matchup for him."
Power Apes were famous for brute strength, said to carry a trace of Titan Giant Ape blood — faint, but potent. Even diluted, that bloodline placed them above ordinary beasts of the same level.
This one's body was massive, its red fur streaked with metallic black light — evidence of mutation. Its bloodline might've merged with an Iron-Arm Ape, boosting both its might and defense.
The beast roared, beating its chest. The air trembled. Around the arena, several weaker students paled instinctively, their spirits trembling.
A psychic field, Yuhao noted. An intimidation aura — a weak fusion of power and mental pressure.
It was the Terror Halo, a primitive psychic shockwave that could make those of lesser will falter before battle began.
But Yuhao only smirked. Hybrid bloodlines, strength and defense, but speed and endurance are poor. Not bad, but nothing special.
Through the Eye of Truth, the giant ape's body appeared riddled with invisible cracks — weak points only he could see. With a single precise strike, he could end it instantly.
But Yuhao didn't draw his hidden weapons. Instead, he activated his soul skills.
Yellow and purple light flared beneath his feet — both rings glowing at once.
The massive ape froze mid-roar. Its raised fists hung suspended in the air.
Yuhao strolled up casually, circling the beast, studying it like a specimen on display. The ape didn't so much as blink.
'Perfect. Spiritual Detection Sharing, combined with Spiritual Devour — results consistent with theory.'
Even when Yuhao plucked a tuft of fur from its arm, the creature remained motionless.
Then, taking a few steps back, Yuhao watched silently as the ape suddenly began pummeling its own chest again and again.
The dull thuds echoed through the arena — bones cracking, heart rupturing. The beast staggered and collapsed, blood pooling beneath its frame.
Yuhao raised his head toward the referee. "Teacher, I believe the assessment is complete."
The man stared in stunned silence before glancing toward Du Weilun.
The director's brows furrowed, but after a moment, he nodded. "After deliberation — Huo Yuhao, thousand-year beast examination complete. Base score: 100."
"Utilized a control-type technique to dominate the target before combat even began — flawless execution. Full technique score, 50 points."
"However, you performed unnecessary actions during combat. A true control-type should secure victory instantly, not risk close inspection. Twenty points deducted as a warning."
"Huo Yuhao — final score: 130. Advancement test passed."
Yuhao only shrugged. "Fine by me."
He hadn't come for points — only to test his new skill.
"Whoa! What was that skill just now?" Wang Dong ran over as he stepped down from the stage.
"That ape just… beat itself up! Was that your second soul skill?!"
Yuhao smiled faintly. "Why? Want to try it yourself? I just finished developing it over the break — haven't tested it on humans yet."
Wang Dong's eyes widened. "No thanks! Still — the academy's grading's way too strict! You were perfect!"
"Eh," Yuhao yawned. "Doesn't matter. They can expel me if they want. Passing or failing doesn't pay extra coin anyway."
Stretching lazily, he turned toward the dorms. Wang Dong, grumbling, followed behind.
As they walked, Yuhao replayed the battle in his mind.
By combining Spiritual Detection Sharing with Spiritual Devour, he had silently invaded the ape's spiritual sea, filling it with overwhelming sensory feedback.
The flood of data forced the creature's limited mental capacity to focus entirely inward, trying desperately to process and stabilize the overload.
Meanwhile, Yuhao had blocked the shared feedback on his end, switching to direct observation through the Eye of Truth.
With the ape's consciousness consumed by chaos, its spiritual sea contracted under the constant gnawing of Spiritual Devour — severing the connection between mind and body.
Deprived of a guiding will, the ape's body became an empty shell, a puppet. Yuhao had taken full control.
Under his direction, it destroyed itself.
Even if the beast seemed salvageable, its spirit had already been completely consumed, its consciousness reduced to fragments of Yuhao's technique.
Once its mental energy was gone, no recovery was possible — its body would soon decay, following its mind into oblivion.
A soul beast has no counter for this, Yuhao reflected. Against a human Spirit Master of similar rank, the result should be the same. A thousand-year beast's mental strength roughly matches a four-ring cultivator's.
The only pity is that the spiritual energy consumed by Spiritual Devour can't be reclaimed. If I could recycle that pure essence, it would make a fine supplement… maybe next time I'll try constructing a recovery loop.
For now, he named the evolved method Spiritual Ruin — though he knew it wouldn't remain his final form for long.
(End of Chapter)