The heavy responsibility of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect weighed heavily on Ning Fengzhi's shoulders, placing immense pressure on him.
Chen Xin knew this well.
Over the years, Ning Fengzhi had spared no expense in searching for talented individuals—spending staggering amounts of gold soul coins to establish a massive intelligence organization that stretched across cities, towns, and even remote villages throughout the entire Douluo Continent.
"Alright, Uncle Ning, don't worry," Xiao Ze said calmly.
Ning Fengzhi finally released him and took several deep breaths.
After that, he no longer brought up the matter of improving martial spirit quality. Instead, he sat down with Xiao Ze and finalized the long-term prices for the agricultural products.
By the time the discussion ended, Xiao Ze had—quite literally—become a rich man overnight.
"Alright, Rongrong, Xiao Ze. Uncle Jian and I will be heading back," Ning Fengzhi said.
"Okay, hurry up and go," Ning Rongrong waved her hand casually.
Ning Fengzhi's eyelids twitched.
His precious daughter was already showing signs of siding with an outsider before she was even married.
After the two Title Douluo left, Ning Rongrong immediately wrapped both arms around Xiao Ze's arm.
"Xiao Ze, you're rich now, so from now on I'm eating and drinking everything on your tab."
Eat what? Sausages?
Drink what? Soy milk?
"You're the young lady of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect," Xiao Ze said helplessly. "You don't have money?"
"That's different."
"…Alright then."
The two returned to where Dugu Yan and the others were waiting.
"Okay, let's head back," Xiao Ze said.
"Huh?" Ning Rongrong looked around. "Where are Dai Mubai and the others?"
"They went to look for Flander and the others," Dugu Yan shrugged.
"Forget it," Ning Rongrong waved dismissively. "It's none of our business. Let's go."
Qin Ming remained silent.
Although he desperately wanted to check on Dean Flander and the others, he couldn't.
———————
The setting sun was blood-red.
On a field not far from Soto City, the air was thick with the stench of blood.
Flander knelt on one knee. Blood vessels had burst in his eyes. His robes had been shredded by sword qi, and his exposed skin was covered in intersecting wounds—each one deep enough to reveal bone.
Blood dripped continuously from his fingertips.
He clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand, but blood surged up his throat. His face was pale as paper.
Zhao Wuji was in no better condition.
The Immovable King's body was now riddled with dense sword wounds. The most severe gash stretched from his right shoulder straight down to his abdomen, flesh torn open and blood pouring freely.
His ragged breathing was mixed with bloody foam. He tried to support himself with trembling arms, but he no longer had the strength to stand.
The other teachers lay scattered across the ground—some clutching their chests while shaking violently, others already unconscious.
The entire field was scarred with deep trenches carved by sword energy.
Not far away, Yu Xiaogang lay in a pool of blood.
A massive X-shaped wound crossed his chest. White bone was clearly visible beneath torn flesh as blood continued to gush out uncontrollably.
His face and lips had lost all color, and his breathing was so faint it was nearly imperceptible.
Luo Sanpao lay beside him, barely alive, letting out weak, pitiful whimpers.
"Old Zhao… are you alright?" Flander staggered over and helped Zhao Wuji up.
Zhao Wuji coughed violently several times, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
"I'm fine," he said hoarsely. "Worthy of being Sword Douluo… I almost died."
"But our situation is terrible," Flander muttered as he looked around.
Every teacher from Shrek Academy had suffered severe injuries. Recovery would take a very long time.
"Why don't you go check on Yu Xiaogang?" Zhao Wuji said grimly. "He looks like he's dying."
"Dean! Vice Dean!"
Dai Mubai and the others finally found them.
"Mubai…" Flander forced a bitter smile.
Dai Mubai and the group immediately placed Xiao Wu and Tang San on the ground.
The two quickly regained consciousness and rushed to help support the injured teachers.
"Dean, are you alright?" Ma Hongjun asked anxiously.
"It's nothing fatal," Flander replied weakly. "But recovery will take time."
"This Sword Douluo is seriously too much! And we—"
Slap!
Zhao Wuji smacked Ma Hongjun hard on the head.
"Are you insane?" he roared. "No matter what Sword Douluo does, he's still a Title Douluo! Not someone you can talk about like that!"
This was a lesson he needed to learn early.
Between a Title Douluo and lower-level soul masters existed an unbridgeable gulf.
Without reaching that realm, one was ultimately nothing more than an ant.
"Oscar, go help Yu Xiaogang."
"Yes, sir."
Oscar hurried over. The moment he saw Yu Xiaogang's injuries, his scalp went numb.
Sword Douluo had been utterly merciless.
Yu Xiaogang was practically half-crippled. These wounds were far beyond what ordinary healing soul masters could mend.
More importantly…
Yu Xiaogang's "tool of the trade" had also been accidentally cut clean in half.
And diagonally at that.
It was simply outrageous.
As for his martial spirit, Luo Sanpao, it too was half-crippled. Whether it could ever recover was completely unknown.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with Oscar.
"I have a big sausage!"
Oscar held his sausage and tried to shove it into Yu Xiaogang's mouth—but it was too big to fit.
Frowning, Oscar said apologetically, "Sorry."
He stuffed the sausage into his own mouth, chewed vigorously, then forcefully fed the shredded remains into Yu Xiaogang's mouth.
Oscar closed his eyes, suppressing the nausea.
There was no other way.
After swallowing the sausage, Yu Xiaogang's condition improved slightly, though waking up anytime soon would still be difficult.
Oscar returned to Flander.
"Dean… the Master's condition is very bad."
"What's wrong with him?" Flander said irritably. "I already told him to leave. Why did a mere Great Soul Master insist on getting involved?"
Did he really think Liu Erlong was still by his side?
"Uh… the Master's injuries are extremely serious," Oscar said carefully. "If he doesn't receive proper treatment, he won't survive more than three days."
He swallowed.
"Also… some of the Master's important parts were accidentally cut off."
"…What important parts?" Flander asked blankly.
Oscar wanted to cry. Couldn't he stop asking?
"Tell me," Flander frowned.
Oscar's gaze slowly slid down Flander's body… and stopped at a certain location.
Flander followed his gaze.
Then his eyes widened in disbelief.
"Here?"
"Yes."
In an instant, both Flander and Zhao Wuji felt an icy chill surge up from between their legs.
This was beyond unlucky.
Sword Douluo definitely hadn't intended to do that—it could only have been an accident. After all, what kind of Title Douluo would deliberately aim there?
"Is… is there any hope?" Flander asked hoarsely.
"There's no hope," Oscar shook his head. "The flesh is gone."
"…Dean," Oscar added quickly, "now's not the time to discuss this. Saving his life comes first."
"Right—right!" Flander snapped back to his senses. "Quickly! Find a healing-type Spirit Master!"
As the crimson sun dipped below the horizon, the field of blood and broken bodies fell into darkness—
and the consequences of provoking a Title Douluo had only just begun.
(End of Chapter)
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