Hu Cheng, let his gaze linger on Hao Ming, Zhou Shengyang, and Hui Mi.
"But before that, we have something no less important to take care of."
He stepped back toward the edge of the field, folding his arms across his chest. His entire posture was that of a spectator settling in comfortably before a long-awaited performance.
"Everyone except these three—clear the center," he ordered, waving toward the line that had been drawn across the ground the night before, separating the center of the field from the rest of the training grounds.
The others—Xiao Yu, Sheng Ming, Qin Ye, and Jin Luo—silently stepped across the line.
Hui Mi and Zhou Shengyang moved apart, walking away from each other at an unhurried pace. At the same time, they turned to face Hao Ming, forming the third point of an invisible triangle.
The distance between all three had been measured precisely.
Twenty meters—the distance from which the real battle would begin.
Hui Mi spoke first. His voice was calmer than usual, less sharp and cocky than before, as though the formality of the moment demanded a more mature tone.
"Hui Mi. Martial Soul—King of Myriad Lightning. Soul Emperor, Rank 60."
This was how any official duel between Spirit Masters began—with a name, the name of one's Martial Soul, and one's rank.
Six black soul rings rose one after another from beneath his feet. Thin blue threads of lightning crawled across his skin.
Zhou Shengyang introduced himself next, without a trace of unnecessary emotion on his face, like someone for whom the ritual had long since become second nature.
"Zhou Shengyang. Martial Soul—Spirit Tiger. Soul King, Rank 50."
Five soul rings rose from beneath his feet—three purple and two black—glimmering faintly in the morning light.
Thin tiger stripes appeared across his cheekbones, as though burned into his skin from within by glowing embers. His eyes flared brighter than usual, taking on a faint golden sheen.
Hao Ming silently looked at the two of them.
The silence stretched for a couple of seconds longer than a simple introduction required—long enough for Hui Mi to impatiently shift his weight from one foot to the other.
"Hao Ming," he finally said.
And nothing more.
As if the words alone were all that needed to be said.
Hui Mi raised an eyebrow.
"That's it? You really don't know the rules of combat between Spirit Masters?"
"I'm not a Spirit Master," Hao Ming replied evenly. "I have no Martial Soul. And I have no Spirit Power either."
The words fell into the silence.
Immediately, everyone nearby turned toward him at once.
"You're an ordinary person?! What the hell—"
Hui Mi cut himself off before he could finish.
Zhou Shengyang showed no reaction.
But the fighting spirit that had filled his body vanished instantly, as though someone had reached deep inside him and shut off an invisible valve.
"I refuse to fight," he said.
He would not raise his hand against an ordinary person.
For him, this wasn't some rule written down in a code of conduct. It was simply a fact—something as solid and undeniable as the ground beneath his feet, as certain as the sun rising in the east.
"Uncle Hu Cheng!" Xiao Yu shouted from the edge of the field. "Why did you even bring an ordinary person into the Academy?!"
"That's dangerous," Sheng Ming added anxiously, clasping her hands in front of herself. "Ordinary people have no place in the world of Spirit Masters. Even simply releasing a Martial Soul near them can injure them."
Over the forty thousand years of the Douluo Continent's history, the boundary between ordinary people and Spirit Masters had almost disappeared.
With each passing millennium, there had been fewer of the former and more of the latter, until the difference had nearly vanished in the eyes of outsiders.
But the boundary still existed.
It simply no longer stood out.
Like an old scar that had healed so long ago that you forgot it was there—until someone accidentally touched the exact spot.
Qin Ye, who could estimate Hao Ming's true strength to some degree, still couldn't understand how he intended to defeat both Hui Mi and Zhou Shengyang at once.
If he truly had neither a Martial Soul nor Spirit Power—the very foundations upon which a Spirit Master's physical strength rested—then how could he possibly win?
Even the simplest punch thrown by a Spirit Master was not merely physical strength.
It was the fusion of the power of their Martial Soul and their Spirit Power.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
Hu Cheng burst into laughter, throwing his head back.
Then, just as suddenly, he became serious, looking at everyone with a satisfied squint.
"You seriously thought I would send an ordinary person into a fight? And my own grandson, at that?"
The revelation struck the field like another bomb—far louder than the previous one.
Hao Ming was Hu Cheng's grandson.
The fact stunned everyone without exception.
Even Sheng Ming and Qin Ye, who had known Hao Ming since they were practically children, froze with identical expressions.
For the first time in a long while, they had learned something about him that they hadn't known before.
And this discovery clearly did not fit into the image of him they had always carried.
Hu Cheng, pleased with the effect his words had produced, folded his arms across his chest and rocked casually from heel to toe.
"So?" he said, addressing Hui Mi and Zhou Shengyang. "Are you two going to fight, or are you planning to keep standing there like statues?"
Zhou Shengyang frowned.
"Being your grandson doesn't make him a Spirit Master. The rule doesn't change depending on whose relative he is. Especially not yours."
"Oh?"
Hu Cheng raised one finger, clearly enjoying the moment.
"That's where you're not entirely correct. The rule says: Do not raise your hand against an ordinary person. Did I ever say he was ordinary?"
Hui Mi narrowed his eyes.
"So he does have Spirit Power after all?"
"I never said that," Hu Cheng replied with a broad grin.
"I merely said you don't need to worry about him. Now enough talking. Either fight, or we'll move on to the lesson."
Zhou Shengyang and Hui Mi exchanged a brief glance—the kind shared by two people forced to agree to something that went against their own convictions.
Hui Mi was the first to exhale.
"Fine. But if something goes wrong, it'll be on your conscience, old man."
"Deal," Hu Cheng replied casually.
"The rules are simple," Hu Cheng announced. "The fight ends when I order you to stop, when one side surrenders, or when one side is no longer capable of continuing."
"Begin!"
The instant the command was spoken, Hao Ming disappeared.
In the next moment, Hui Mi and Zhou Shengyang flew in opposite directions—as if an invisible palm had swept them off the field at the same time.
Both crashed into the ground, kicking up clouds of dust, and lay there motionless.
Hao Ming was still standing where he had been a second earlier.
His gaze shifted from his hands to the two unmoving figures.
For once, an unfamiliar look of confusion appeared on his face.
Why are they still alive?
He had struck with all his strength.
He always struck with all his strength.
He simply didn't know how to do otherwise.
And yet both of them were lying there, breathing.
Could they really be tougher and stronger than I thought?
He lowered his gaze from his hands to the two motionless silhouettes, trying to understand what exactly had gone wrong—or perhaps what had gone right, despite the fact that he hadn't intended it.
Hu Cheng, watching everything from the side, was paying far more attention to Hao Ming than to the two students lying on the ground.
Huh... So he really does know how to hold himself back.
A trace of relief mixed with surprise flashed through his eyes.
If he'd actually struck with his full strength, I would've had to stop him the instant he moved.
None of the five spectators at the edge of the field had truly understood what had happened.
Xiao Yu blinked.
Only then did he realize that his blink had lasted longer than the entire fight itself.
He opened his mouth, intending to say something—anything—but no words came.
Jin Luo, who had been lazily squinting at the sun until now, opened his eyes fully for the first time that morning.
"I missed something," he muttered. "When did those two end up on the ground?"
Sheng Ming pressed both hands over her mouth.
"He didn't even move."
Qin Ye remained silent longer than the others.
She didn't take her eyes off the spot where Hao Ming had stood just a second ago.
Even her reaction—a barely perceptible narrowing of her eyes—came late, as though her vision itself hadn't been fast enough to follow what had happened in real time.
She was reconstructing the exchange afterward, from the lingering traces left in the air.
Hui Mi was the first to recover.
He abruptly sat up, gasping for air, and stared at his hands as though checking whether all his fingers were still there.
"What..." He coughed. "What was that?"
Zhou Shengyang rose more slowly.
First to one knee.
Then, staggering slightly, he pushed himself fully upright.
He ran a hand across his chest, to the place where the blow should have landed.
There was nothing there.
Nothing except a dull, diffuse pain spreading throughout his entire body, without a single identifiable point of impact.
It was as if he hadn't been struck in one place at all.
It was as though his entire body had been hit at once.
Now both of them were standing.
Bruised.
Stunned.
And, without saying a word or even needing to coordinate, they simultaneously looked toward Hao Ming.
Hui Mi opened his mouth.
"You..."
But he couldn't finish.
He couldn't find a word that could honestly describe what he had just experienced.
Zhou Shengyang remained silent longer.
Then, finally, he spoke one short word.
There was no pride in it.
No trace of his usual arrogance.
Only a battle intent beginning to blaze like a wildfire.
"Again."