Deep within the Great Star Dou Forest, the silence persisted.
It was not the silence of death or emptiness. It was the silence of listening.
Every creature—millennium beast or century insect—had paused in its eternal struggle for survival. Predators did not hunt. Prey did not flee. They simply waited, heads tilted toward an unseen centre, as though an ancient king had returned to claim his forgotten realm.
The Shrek group moved forward along a path that had not existed hours before: vines parted, roots flattened, low branches lifted like curtains. Sunlight fell in perfect shafts upon them, as if the canopy itself conspired to illuminate their way.
Zhao Wuji walked at the front, Vajra Bear possession half-active, eyes scanning constantly. Yet no threat appeared. His usual bravado had quieted into wary awe.
"This ain't natural," he muttered to Grandmaster. "I've hunted here dozens of times. The forest always fights back. Now it feels like it's… escorting us."
Grandmaster's expression was grimly fascinated. "The influence radiates from Aza. Spirit beasts possess primal instinct far beyond human understanding. They recognise something in him—something that predates even the oldest Titan Giant Ape or Azure Bull Python records."
Behind them, the students walked in a loose cluster.
Tang San's hand rested near his sleeve, Purple Demon Eye active, cataloguing every anomaly. Xiao Wu stayed close to him, her rabbit spirit subtly agitated—not from danger, but from the overwhelming sense of presence that saturated the air.
Dai Mubai and Zhu Zhuqing scouted the flanks, but found nothing to fight.
Oscar and Ma Hongjun whispered nervously.
"I swear that tree just bowed," Ma Hongjun hissed.
Oscar clutched a freshly made recovery sausage like a talisman. "Don't joke. I'm not ready to meet whatever makes a ten-thousand-year beast play nice."
At the centre walked Aza, serene and unhurried.
His court flanked him in human form.
Nyarlathotep strolled with hands in pockets, humming a tune that harmonised eerily with the distant piping only Aza could fully hear.
Yog-Sothoth glided beside him, robes whispering against leaves that leaned toward her as she passed.
Shub-Niggurath brought up the immediate rear, her young peeking from her hair with wide, curious eyes. Flowers bloomed in her footprints—black-petalled lilies that sang softly in ultrasonic frequencies.
Ning Rongrong walked closest to Aza, only two paces away.
Her Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda floated before her, rotating faster than usual, towers chiming in a melody that wove through the forest silence like threads of rainbow light.
She glanced at him repeatedly.
"You're doing this, aren't you?" she finally asked, voice low. "Making the forest behave."
Aza turned his void eyes to her.
"Not intentionally," he said. "They hear the dream. They remember a time before struggle. Before rings. Before masters and beasts. They listen… and choose peace."
Rongrong swallowed. "It's beautiful. And terrifying."
Nyarlathotep chuckled ahead of them. "All true beauty terrifies, little light-bearer."
They walked for hours without encountering aggression.
Then, abruptly, the path opened into a sunlit glade.
In the centre stood a spirit beast.
A Phoenix-Tailed Crest Serpent—approximately 1,600 years old, perfect for a third spirit ring. Its scales shimmered iridescent crimson and gold, crest fanned like a crown of flame. By all rights, it should have attacked or fled.
Instead, it lowered its head.
It slithered forward slowly—reverently—and coiled in a perfect circle before Aza, crest folding in submission.
The entire group froze.
Zhao Wuji's mouth actually fell open.
Grandmaster whispered, "Impossible…"
Ma Hongjun gulped. "Uh… is it… offering itself?"
The serpent raised its head, gazing directly at Aza with intelligent eyes. Then it turned its gaze to Ma Hongjun—the student whose Evil Fire Phoenix most closely matched its attributes.
A soft hiss escaped its throat—almost like a sigh of acceptance.
Aza stepped forward.
He placed one pale hand gently upon the serpent's crest.
"Thank you," he said simply.
The serpent closed its eyes.
Ma Hongjun, trembling, approached under Zhao Wuji's stunned direction. One swift strike from the Immovable Bright King ended the beast's life painlessly.
When Ma Hongjun sat to absorb the ring, something extraordinary occurred.
The purple ring that rose from the corpse did not resist. It flowed into him smoothly, almost eagerly. Visions during absorption—normally chaotic and painful—were instead filled with soaring flight beneath alien stars, accompanied by flutes and the distant chime of crystal towers.
Ma Hongjun emerged twenty minutes later, eyes wide, new spirit ring glowing brightly.
"My third skill… it's called Phoenix Dream Ascension," he said dazedly. "Flight capability far beyond normal. And… I saw things. Beautiful, impossible things."
Similar scenes repeated throughout the day.
For Oscar: a Golden Light Leopard appeared—agile, radiant, perfect for speed and recovery enhancement. It knelt. Absorption granted a skill that temporarily mirrored boosts, something theoretically impossible at his level.
For Zhu Zhuqing: a Nether Shadow Panther emerged from darkness, bowed, and offered itself. Her new ring enhanced penetration and illusion in ways that synergised eerily with chaos.
Each beast came willingly.
Each absorption was smoother, richer, laced with dream-visions no spirit master had ever reported.
By late afternoon, only two remained without new rings: Ning Rongrong and Aza himself.
They reached a second glade—this one ringed by ancient trees whose leaves shimmered like stained glass.
In the centre grew a crystalline flower, seven-coloured petals pulsing gently.
From the earth beneath it rose a spirit beast unlike any recorded.
A Thousand-Year Dreamlight Butterfly.
Its wings were translucent crystal, etched with patterns that resembled the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda exactly. Veins of rainbow light pulsed through them. It was roughly 1,800 years old—pushing the limit for a third ring, but perfect in attribute.
It did not approach Aza.
Instead, it fluttered directly to Ning Rongrong and landed gently on her pagoda.
The towers chimed in perfect harmony—seven clear notes that rang through the glade like bells.
Rongrong's eyes filled with tears she could not explain.
The butterfly folded its wings, lowered its head, and waited.
Grandmaster's voice shook. "Attribute match… perfect. Support amplification, illusion resistance, spirit power recovery—all enhanced beyond standard. And… an unknown fourth potential."
Zhao Wuji nodded slowly. "Do it, girl."
Rongrong sat in the grass, butterfly settling in her lap.
As absorption began, light exploded—rainbow crystal weaving into prismatic black threads from Aza's direction, though he had not moved.
The process was painless.
Visions came to her: infinite voids filled with beautiful, impossible music. A pale figure at the centre, listening. A pagoda of light standing alone against the dark, singing back.
When she opened her eyes, her third ring glowed deep purple.
Her pagoda had changed subtly—edges now traced with faint void-black filigree that pulsed in rhythm with distant flutes.
New skills:
Third treasure: Spirit Power Amplification increased to 50%
A new passive: Dream Harmony—when near compatible allies, boost efficiency rises further and spirit consumption decreases.
She looked at Aza, tears still on her cheeks.
"It… it showed me you," she whispered.
Aza stepped closer.
"It chose you," he said softly. "Because your song called to it across the dream."
Nyarlathotep smiled broadly. "A perfect match, little light-bearer."
Yog-Sothoth's gates reflected futures where rainbow and void intertwined eternally.
Shub-Niggurath's young cooed in celebration.
Then, as dusk began to fall, the forest shifted once more.
Every beast that had offered itself earlier returned—in spirit form.
Translucent silhouettes: the serpent, the leopard, the panther, the butterfly, and dozens more. They gathered in a vast circle around the glade, heads bowed.
At their centre, something vast stirred beneath the earth.
A spirit ring rose—not from a corpse, but from the forest itself.
Black. Deeper than black.
Ten-thousand-year level, yet calm. Inviting.
It floated toward Aza.
He did not sit.
He simply extended his hand.
The ring settled around his Void Nucleus like a crown.
There was no pain. No resistance.
Only harmony.
When it completed, his first spirit ring glowed—an impossible colour that hurt to look at directly, yet filled the soul with awe.
His skill manifested instinctively.
First Skill: Dream Whisper
Effect: Induce controlled visions of the outer dream in targets. Ally or enemy. Soothe or terrify. Share beauty or madness—at his choice.
The spirit beasts bowed deeper.
Then, one by one, they faded—content, fulfilled.
The glade fell silent once more.
Zhao Wuji finally spoke, voice rough.
"I've seen a lot in my years. But this… this was something else."
Grandmaster closed his notebook with trembling hands.
"We should return," he said. "Before the forest changes its mind."
As they turned to leave, Ning Rongrong walked beside Aza.
She reached out—hesitated—then gently took his hand.
He did not pull away.
Their fingers intertwined.
Rainbow light from her pagoda flowed softly into void black from his nucleus, weaving together like threads of fate.
Behind them, the court smiled.
Nyarlathotep: "The first note has been played."
Yog-Sothoth: "All gates open wider now."
Shub-Niggurath: "The dream grows fertile with possibility."
And in the endless piping only Aza heard, a new melody had permanently joined the chorus:
The clear, bright chime of seven treasures—soon to be nine—singing eternally against the dark.