The new colosseum was a cauldron of noise. One hundred thousand humans, packed shoulder-to-shoulder, roared as one, their voices a grating, chaotic wave of sound that assaulted the senses. Hidden within this sea of mortals, three figures sat with an unnatural stillness.
Yao Ling, in his disguise as a scholarly old man, watched the proceedings with a detached, ancient calm. Zi Ji, a woman whose beauty seemed to dim the sunlight, looked around with a bright, childlike curiosity. And Chi Wang, a mountain of a man squeezed uncomfortably between two cheering merchants, was miserable.
"So many of them," Chi Wang grumbled mentally, his voice a low, rumbling growl in their private telepathic link. "And they all smell... weak. And sweaty. Why are we watching these ants fight? It's pathetic."
The merchant beside him, caught up in the fervor, slapped him hard on the back. "What a day, eh, old friend? You excited? My money's on the Shrek team! Forty-two against seven! They don't stand a chance!"
Chi Wang's hand instinctively twitched, his urge to crush the annoying human's skull a palpable thing.
"Patience, Chi Wang," Yao Ling's mental voice was a calm, deep river that soothed his subordinate's rising irritation. "We are here to observe. To understand the human who dared to threaten our Lord. His strength that he displays in this match will be... illuminating."
"He's arrogant, alright," Zi Ji chimed in, her crimson eyes sparkling with interest. "To challenge a whole pack by himself? He's either a fool or... something else."
The referee's voice boomed, and the battle began. The stage exploded with a chaotic wave of light as forty-two spirits ignited.
"Such flashy, uncontrolled bursts of energy," Zi Ji observed, her tone dismissive. "They are like hatchlings showing off their first flames. All noise and no real heat."
"Look," Yao Ling commanded, his voice sharp.
Zhang Tian, leading the charge, unleashed his spirit. The stage was instantly transformed. A forest of crimson vines, crackling with violent, violet lightning, erupted from the stone. The Blood Thunder Hell Cage.
Yao Ling's ancient eyes narrowed. He would never forget that aura. That color. That power. "It's him," he projected to his companions, his voice cold. "That is the one. The human with the red grass spirit. The one who spoke of our Lord."
Chi Wang leaned forward, his six hidden eyes focusing, his disbelief plain. "Him? That small human? He's the one who threatened Lord Di Tian? He looks barely strong enough to be a light snack! Are you sure, Yao Ling?"
"I am certain," Yao Ling replied, his gaze locked on Zhang Tian. "His spiritual signature is identical."
"But... he's just a Spirit King," Chi Wang protested. "His aura is pathetically weak compared to yours!"
"His aura is weak, yes," Zi Ji interrupted, her head tilted, her own senses probing the battlefield. "But his spirit… it feels… strange." She frowned. "That red grass… its bloodline. It feels almost as… primal… as yours, Yao Ling. A line of an Emperor among the plants."
Yao Ling remained silent, his gaze locked on Zhang Tian. He felt it too. A thrum of power from that grass, an ancestral authority that prickled at his own spirit origin. It was an unpleasant, rivalrous feeling. This human's grass... it felt like it was looking down on his own ancient, Demon Eye Tree form.
"Hmph. An emperor of grass is still just grass," Chi Wang grumbled.
"Watch," Yao Ling commanded.
They watched as Zhang Tian proceeded to systematically, and almost casually, dismantle the allied teams. They saw him unleash a storm of multi-elemental vines, a skill that was clearly self-created. They saw him take Xiao Wu hostage, his movements fluid and precise. They saw him break Tang San's hidden weapons with an almost insulting ease.
Chi Wang's grumbles faded, replaced by a grudging, surprised silence.
"He... he is not just a Spirit King," Chi Wang admitted, his voice a low rumble of disbelief. "His combat skill... it is like a Fierce Beast's. He fights with the instincts of a true predator."
"His spirit is the key," Yao Ling murmured, his mind racing. "It devours. It adapts. It counters. And the human... he is ruthless. This is not a simple-minded hatchling."
While the battle raged, while Zhang Tian was toying with his last remaining opponents, Yao Ling extended his vast, subtle mental force. It glided over the arena, a silent, invisible fog, far beyond the perception of any human Spirit Saint or Spirit Emperor. He was scanning.
His senses passed over Zhang Tian. He was prepared for the human's weak mental force. He was not prepared for what he found within him.
A core. A perfectly formed, stable, and powerful Spirit Core, humming with a crimson energy that felt both ancient and new.
'A Spirit Core?!' Yao Ling's ancient, calm mind was rocked. 'Impossible! He is a mere Spirit King! Humans should not be able to form a Spirit Core until they are on the verge of becoming one of their "Limit Douluo"! Only a Fierce Beast of at least 200,000 years can condense a stable Spirit Core like this! How?!'
His probe, now frantic, flashed to Zhang Tian's companions. He scanned the civet-like girl, Zhu Zhuqing.
He found another one. A complex, swirling core of ice, fire, and shadow.
'Another!'
He scanned the girl with the Nine Treasure Glaze Tile Pagoda, Ning Rongrong. He found a third one. This one was different. It was a vibrant, nine-colored vortex, pulsing with a power that felt purer, denser, than even his own Spirit Core.
'Three of them! All hatchlings! And that female's core... it feels... purer than mine? How is this possible?!'
A flurry of questions stormed his mind. 'What is this? Has the human race evolved so far without our knowledge? Are Spirit Cores now common among their young? Is this why he was so confident?'
He frantically expanded his probe, his senses sweeping across the stage. He scanned Tang San. Nothing. Dai Mubai. Nothing. Huo Wu. Nothing.
His probe shot to the Imperial dais, a place of concentrated power.
DANGER.
His senses brushed against the silent, seated figure of Chen Xin, the Sword Douluo. He was instantly hit by a wave of killing intent so sharp it felt like a physical needle in his mind. He recoiled, his mental concealment almost shattering. But not before he sensed it.
Another Spirit Core. A Sword Core, forged from pure, unrelenting sharpness.
He cautiously, and from a much greater distance, probed the others. The pale, skeletal man, Gu Rong. Another Core. This one felt strange, a chilling balance of death and life. The old, green-haired man, Dugu Bo. A Poison Core.
'Of course,' Yao Ling dismissed the last one. 'Poison types form cores easily. It is their nature. They are a half-step from a true beast's path. But the others…'
"Six," he whispered aloud, his human voice trembling so slightly only he could hear it. "Six humans in one place with Spirit Cores. Three of them... are mere children."
As he pulled his senses back, his heart pounding with a strange, unfamiliar rhythm, he felt the Sword Douluo's head turn slightly. The man's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept over their section of the crowd.
Yao Ling's mental concealment held, a thick, perceptual fog that bent the human's senses. But it had been close.
'His mental force is weaker than mine,' Yao Ling thought, a cold sweat on his human brow. 'Like a stream next to my river. But his intent… it is as sharp as a divine weapon. A dangerous, dangerous human.'
Yao Ling immediately shared his findings with his two companions, his mental voice grim, his earlier calm completely gone. "This is worse than we thought. The target, Zhang Tian, and his two female companions... they all possess Spirit Cores."
Chi Wang, for the first time, was speechless. "Spirit Cores?" he finally managed, his voice a disbelieving squeak. "Like... us? How? They are hatchlings! They haven't even lived ten thousand years!"
"I... I don't understand," Zi Ji's mental voice was a trembling, fearful sound. Her fascination with the city was replaced by a cold dread. "Yao Ling... what does this mean? Has the human race... learned how to harness the power of Spirit Cores?"
"No," Yao Ling reassured them, though his own mind was reeling from the implications. "If they had, all of their powerful ones would possess them. I scanned the others. The dragon-boy, the tiger-boy... nothing. It is... them. This specific group. This Zhang Tian and his inner circle."
He tried to analyze. "Their Cores are... young. Unrefined. They have far less energy than our own, and they don't seem to be using them to unleash their attributes. Not yet. But they are a foundation. A foundation for a level of power we did not anticipate. And that is not all."
He described the Titled Douluos on the dais. "There are other humans here, older ones, who also possess them. That one... the one with the sword... even I would not be his match in a direct confrontation."
"Not a match?!" Chi Wang's voice was a mental shriek. "Yao Ling! You are over 500,000 years old! He is a human! A two-legged, soft-skinned...!"
"A human with a Spirit Core forged from a blade," Yao Ling stated, his voice a cold, hard fact. "His power is consolidated. Focused. While my own is vast, it is... spread. He is a sword. I am a tree. In a close fight, the sword would pierce my heart before I could crush him. We are not in our forest, Chi Wang. We are in their world."
A heavy, terrified silence fell between the three of them.
"However," Yao Ling added, a note of calm returning to his voice as he regained his composure. "His mental force is a pale shadow of my own. As are the others'. They did not detect my probe, even if the sword-man felt something. We still hold the advantage of stealth. We can observe. We can learn."
"This complicates the mission," he mused, his ancient mind processing the new, terrifying variables. "But it does not change it. This human's threat was not about his own power, or his sect's. It was about his knowledge. And this... this new discovery of Spirit Cores... it only deepens the mystery. How did he achieve this? How did he grant it to others?"
Chi Wang and Zi Ji, hearing that the Titled Douluos could not detect their presence, were filled with a sudden, delighted relief. Their all-consuming fear was immediately replaced by a different, more pressing emotion.
"Good," Chi Wang grunted, his gaze drifting to a nearby food vendor, who was selling some kind of roasted, spiced meat on a stick. "Then we can... continue observing. Vigorously."
Zi Ji nodded eagerly, her eyes, which had been wide with terror was now lost in thought of some shimmering silk dresses. "Yes," she agreed, her voice a soft, happy chime. "We must be... very thorough... in our observations. It is our duty to Lord Di Tian."
Yao Ling just sighed, a sound of ancient, weary resignation. He was on the most important mission of his long life, surrounded by enemies of unfathomable power... and his two companions, two of the most powerful Fierce Beasts in the world, just wanted to go shopping and get a snack.
The days following the tournament's opening spectacle bled into a week. For Chi Wang, it was a special kind of hell. He was a creature of primal rage, of action, of the hunt. Sitting in a small, cramped inn room, surrounded by the incessant, chattering noise of humans, was a prison.
"I cannot just sit here, Yao Ling!" he finally roared, his mental voice making the old man flinch. "I will go mad! I need to hit something. If I stay in this box any longer, I will eat the furniture!"
Yao Ling sighed, not looking up from the human map he was studying. "And if you 'hit something,' Chi Wang, the city guards will come. Then the Titled Douluos will come. Then our mission will be a failure. Do you wish to explain that to Lord Di Tian?"
"I don't care about the mission!" Chi Wang lied, pacing the room, his massive warrior form making the floorboards groan. "I need to... to move!"
"Fine," Yao Ling said, his patience worn thin. "Go. Walk. But behave. Do not talk to anyone. Do not touch anyone. And do not, under any circumstances, eat anyone."
"Hmph." Chi Wang stormed out of the inn, shoving his way into the crowded street, earning a string of curses from the humans he jostled. He walked, his mind a simmering pot of frustration. The city was a mess of noise and smells. He hated it.
And then, he heard it.
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!
It was a sound of impact. A sound of force. It was a rhythmic, powerful sound that reminded him of the Bear Lord smashing the skulls of his enemies. He followed it, his steps quickening.
He found its source in a small, soot-stained alley. A forge. He stood in the doorway, his massive frame blocking the light, and he was, for the first time, mesmerized.
He watched a human, a man with arms as thick as small trees, his bare chest glistening with sweat, hammer a piece of glowing red metal. Sparks flew like angry fireflies. The sound was beautiful. Fire. Impact. Creation.
"You! Boy! Stop staring!" The blacksmith, a gruff, bearded man named Master Tie, shouted, squinting into the shadow Chi Wang cast. "You want something, or are you just going to stand there like a stunned ox? You're blocking my light!"
Chi Wang, remembering Yao Ling's instructions, tried to be "human." He pointed a thick, calloused finger at the hammer and anvil. "I... I want to do that," he said, his voice a low, rumbling growl.
Master Tie burst out laughing, a harsh, barking sound. "You? Do this? Boy, this is hard work, not a game. This fire's hot enough to melt your skin off, and the hammer... well..."
He pointed to a massive, 300-pound sledgehammer resting in the corner. It was a tool built for a Spirit King, not a common smith. "You think you can even lift that, pretty boy? That thing'll break your back, let alone your pretty arms."
"That?" Chi Wang asked, walking over to it.
"Yeah, that. Go on, try. Give me a laugh," the blacksmith taunted.
Chi Wang looked at the hammer. 'It's a twig,' he thought. He reached down and, with one hand, picked it up. He gave it an idle, experimental swing.
The hammer cut through the air with a sound like a screaming hawk. The wind from its passing was a physical blow, fanning the forge fires into a roaring inferno.
FWOOSH!
Master Tie's jaw dropped. His taunting laugh died in his throat. He looked at Chi Wang's arm, which hadn't even tensed. He looked at the 300-pound hammer, which was now being held out to him like a child's toy. He looked back at Chi Wang's arm.
A wide, greedy, and almost manic grin split his face.
"You're hired."
For the next week, Chi Wang found his calling. He was a natural. He was born for this. His inhuman strength, a power meant to tear Fierce Beasts apart, was now channeled into the hammer. He didn't tire. He didn't sweat. He just... smashed.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The rhythm of the forge was a song that spoke to his very soul. The fire. The impact. The creation of something hard and sharp from a lump of dull, lifeless rock.
"By the ancestors, boy!" Master Tie would shout, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated awe as he watched Chi Wang fold a piece of steel as if it were soft dough. "Where did your parents find you? Did they feed you iron? I've never seen anything like it! You're a monster! A beautiful, hammer-swinging monster!"
"It is... satisfying," Chi Wang would grunt, his own, rare form of a smile on his face.
At the end of the week, he had forged his first blade. It was a crude, heavy cleaver, lacking any of the elegance of the swords he'd seen, but it was his. He'd made it.
He tested its edge. It was sharp. Very sharp. Almost as sharp as his claws.
He looked at it, a new, strange respect for these "weak" humans dawning in his mind. 'They can't grow claws,' he thought, his mind working through this new, complex idea. 'So they... make them. They forge them from the bones of the earth. They take fire and rock, and they make their own fangs.'
He looked at his cleaver. "Clever ants," he rumbled aloud. "Very clever."
While Chi Wang found his calling in fire and steel, Zi Ji found hers in silk and jade. The human city, which had at first been a disorienting, noisy mess, was now a treasure trove of wonders.
"Yao Ling, look!" she chimed, her mental voice a constant stream of excited discovery. "This fabric... it's like captured moonlight! It's so soft! Not like Chi Wang's fur at all. That's just scratchy."
"That is silk, Lady Zi Ji," Yao Ling, in his self-appointed role as chaperone and wallet, replied, his mental voice a long-suffering sigh. "And yes, it is lovely. No, you cannot just take it. You must 'trade' for it."
He had given her a small pouch of the gold coins. She quickly, and with alarming enthusiasm, discovered the joy of "trading."
"I'll take this red one!" she declared to a flustered merchant. "It's the color of Chi Wang's fur! And this blue one! It's like the lake! And the green one... well, the green one looks like you, Yao Ling!"
"Lady Zi Ji, you do not need five of them," Yao Ling protested weakly.
"And this!" she exclaimed, moving to the next stall. "Shiny rocks on a string! What are they for?"
"They... are for adornment, I believe," Yao Ling said. "To signify... status?"
"They are pretty!" she declared, which in her mind was a far more important metric. She bought armfuls of jade hairpins and earrings that jingled like tiny, happy bells.
"This is much better than the forest," she declared happily. "In the forest, if you want something pretty, you have to fight a ten-thousand-year-old bird for its feathers. Here, you just give the human a shiny stone. It's so much easier!"
They passed a large, colorful building in the center of the city. Sounds of music and laughter, and dramatic shouting, spilled out. "What is that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. "Why are those humans shouting on that high rock?"
"They are... telling stories," Yao Ling explained, drawing on the hunters' memories. "It is a 'play'."
"A story? Like the ones you tell about the ancient dragon wars?" Zi Ji was fascinated. "Let's go inside!"
Yao Ling, seeing an opportunity to sit down in a dark, quiet place for a few hours, immediately agreed.
They watched a simple, melodramatic play. It was a silly, predictable story about a noble, handsome hero, a beautiful, helpless damsel in distress, and a sneering, black-robed villainous spirit master.
Zi Ji was completely enthralled. She was on the edge of her seat, her crimson eyes wide, her hands clenched.
"He's behind you!" she whispered loudly, as the hero stupidly missed the villain sneaking up on him.
"Just eat him! Eat him now!" she hissed, as the hero and villain engaged in a long, "dramatic" sword fight. "Why is he talking so much?! The villain is right there!"
When the hero finally defeated the villain (without eating him, much to her disappointment) and took the damsel in his arms for a long, passionate kiss, Zi Ji was just confused.
"Yao Ling... why is he... biting her face?" she whispered. "Is that how they show dominance? Or is he tasting her before he eats her, too?"
"I believe," Yao Ling replied, his scholarly tone unwavering, "it is a human ritual... of 'affection'."
"Humans are... very complicated, Yao Ling."
As they left the playhouse, Zi Ji was buzzing with excitement. "That was amazing!" she declared. "The villain was so weak, though. Why didn't the hero just eat him at the beginning? It would have saved so much time."
"As I said, Lady Zi Ji. Complicated."
"I like this den," she decided, her mind made up. "The food is better, the clothes are pretty, and the stories are exciting. I am not in a hurry to leave."
Yao Ling sat alone in their small, cramped inn room, meditating. Or at least, he was trying to.
His two companions, two of the most powerful and feared Fierce Beasts in the world, were... behaving like human hatchlings.
'I am surrounded by idiots,' he muttered to himself, his ancient, calm mind stretched to its breaking point. 'Lord Di Tian sends me on the most critical mission in a thousand years, and what am I doing? I am a chaperone. A babysitter. To a blacksmith and a clothes-hoarder.'
His own investigation, the actual mission, had hit a wall. A wall as high and as unbreachable as the one around Zhang Tian's estate.
'That human… Zhang Tian… he's in his shell like a turtle,' Yao Ling thought, pacing the small room. 'He hasn't left his estate in a week. And the Seven Treasure Sect's elders… they are the same. After that 'internal matter', their security has become suffocating.'
He hadn't been able to get close. He had felt the ripple of the explosion from Ning Fengzhi's trap, and the subsequent, palpable tightening of security across the entire city. He didn't know what had happened, but it had made his mission of abducting an elder a thousand times more difficult.
He thought back to the battle in the arena. He thought of Zhang Tian's Elemental Purgatory, of his casual, one-handed defeat of the six captains. He thought of the terrifying, unknown hammer-like construct he had used. And he thought of the Spirit Cores.
A cold, unfamiliar feeling settled in his ancient spirit. Doubt.
'This human, Zhang Tian, is not just a gnat. He is a dragon hiding in an ant's shell. His threat to Lord Di Tian... it wasn't a bluff. He knew he could back it up.'
But why?
"Why?" he wondered aloud, his voice a low, frustrated sound in the empty room. "Why does he have this power? How did he acquire this knowledge? What is his goal?"
He couldn't get to Zhang Tian's allies. They were a fortress. He was stuck.
His frustration hardened into a new resolve. A new, more... human... idea.
'If I cannot get to his allies...' he thought, a slow, cold smile touching his lips, '...then I will go to his enemies.'
He thought of the Shrek Academy. The team he had seen humiliated. Broken. Their pride was in tatters.
'A broken thing is easy to manipulate,' he mused. 'They hate him. Their hatred is a tool. A key. They know him. They have fought him. They may know a weakness I do not.'
"An enemy of my enemy..." he murmured. "What a strange, human way of thinking. But... it is a good plan."
'Perhaps,' he thought, his ancient eyes gleaming with a new, cunning light, 'it is time to have a "chance" encounter with one of those broken little children.'
~~
A/N: Check out 20 Chapters Ahead for this fanfic on my P.atreon.
Patreon link: https://www.patreon.com/c/evildragon04