In the blink of an eye, only Arthur and Ye Xinglan remained on the stage, the latter still clutching her Star God Sword with white-knuckled desperation.
The spectator stands had long since erupted into chaos. The crowd surged to their feet, arms thrust into the air, their cheers and roars threatening to blow the roof clean off the arena.
"Incredible!"
"Arthur! Arthur!" Countless people waved their arms, their eyes blazing with frenzied excitement.
That was Shrek they were up against!
And today, they were witnessing Shrek's legend being shattered right before their eyes.
Shen Yi's hands tightened instinctively around the hem of her clothes, her pupils contracting to pinpoints from sheer disbelief. Her body even leaned forward on its own, eyes locked onto that little blond sprig standing on the stage, her breathing coming in shallow, rapid bursts.
"This is impossible," she murmured, her voice saturated with incredulity. "Setting aside that domain earlier, his soul power intensity, his combat technique, his battle awareness... none of this should belong to a child."
"You're telling me a three-ring Spirit Elder just defeated all my students in a single move each?!"
Shen Yi's brow furrowed deeply, her expression heavy with gravity.
She turned to Wu Zhangkong, urgency threading through her voice. "Senior brother, you already knew he was this strong? Natural talent can't explain this anymore. His combat experience, the way he channels his power... he's more seasoned than plenty of veteran soul masters."
"My students didn't lose because of their martial soul quality or their soul skills. They lost because of his style."
"Arthur's fighting style is something you only see among high-level soul masters."
The higher the soul master's rank, the more they transcended the rigid limits of their skills and forged a style that was entirely their own.
Power became an extension of the body rather than something constrained by techniques. The clearest example of this was the Titled Douluo level. Experts of that caliber could stir up storms with a casual gesture; their soul skills were merely weapons, not the whole of what they were.
But that kind of mastery required the accumulation of time.
At the Spirit Elder and Spirit Ancestor stages, a soul master without skills was nothing at all.
"And it's obvious he wasn't even fighting at full strength!"
Wu Zhangkong turned to look at her. For the first time in front of his junior, the perpetually aloof man let out a quiet sigh. "Arthur... is a genuine monster."
His gaze drifted back to the stage. Arthur was tilting his head, that little cowlick swaying lazily in the breeze. Despite holding every advantage, he hadn't moved to finish things. Instead, he was taunting Ye Xinglan, running her through a thorough and merciless humiliation.
"You're right. He wasn't at full strength." Wu Zhangkong's voice remained cool, though something more complicated now ran beneath it.
"That sword domain earlier, he pulled it back almost immediately. He clearly didn't want to draw too much attention. And that sword of his still hasn't truly bared its edge. The strike he used on Yu Henglong just now was nothing more than a casual swing."
Shen Yi drew a sharp breath, her pupils tightening further. "A casual swing? That was a four-ring Spirit Ancestor. How many battles has he been through to have that kind of absolute control over his own power?"
"Who knows," Wu Zhangkong said, shaking his head slowly, a note of resignation in his voice. "By the time I met him, he was already like this. That terrifying combat instinct, a level of talent so overwhelming it inspires despair."
"It's as though everyone in front of him is riddled with openings, while he himself has none."
"The only way to beat him is to overwhelm him with raw power."
"But Arthur will keep growing too. When he grows into a towering tree, who will ever have enough raw power to crush his craft?"
Up on the stage, Ye Xinglan finally snapped under Arthur's relentless goading and surged forward with a furious swing. Arthur's Excalibur had already revealed itself in his hand.
Ye Xinglan's eyes had gone bloodshot, her pent-up rage finally breaking through the last dam of reason. She screamed and lunged, starlight streaking along her blade as it cut through the air with savage resolve.
Arthur shifted his footing and sidestepped effortlessly, his holy sword crashing hard against the Star God Sword at the same moment.
Clang!
The impact went straight to Ye Xinglan's palms, and the sword nearly flew from her grip. She gritted her teeth and held on, slashing back with a reverse cut.
"Backhand is weak."
Arthur's voice was flat. He slipped around to her side like a shadow and let the edge of his blade graze across her wrist.
Ye Xinglan hissed in pain and jabbed forward in a desperate overhand thrust, but the move had already lost its shape.
"Forehand is sloppy."
Arthur twisted aside and set the tip of his foot precisely on the gap in her footwork.
Ye Xinglan stumbled, her footing dissolving into disorder. She scrambled to correct her stance, but the opening had already been laid bare.
"Footwork is a mess."
His voice carried a thin edge of mockery. The holy sword lunged straight for her face, then snapped back an instant before she raised her arm to block.
Ye Xinglan's pupils shrank. She threw her arm up in a hasty guard, half a beat too slow. The sword's windforce swept across her chest, leaving a numbing sting in its wake.
"Reaction speed is pathetic."
Arthur pressed forward without pause, sword strikes pouring down like a squall, each one landing with surgical precision to break her rhythm and crush her movements.
Ye Xinglan fought back with everything she had, but her body felt locked up. Every motion came out clumsy and labored, utterly unlike herself.
Arthur threw his weight behind a sudden burst of force, driving the holy sword hard into the flat of the Star God Sword's spine.
Clang!
The Star God Sword flew free, spinning through the air before lodging itself in the far edge of the stage.
Arthur closed the distance in an instant, sword tip hovering at the center of her brow, his tone frigid. "Backhand is weak, forehand is sloppy, footwork's a mess, and your reaction speed is pathetic. Not a single move that's worth looking at."
"Next time, don't be so aggressive if you don't have the strength to back it up."
"If you'd talked to me properly earlier, I wouldn't have minded taking a step back and giving an apology. Keep that in mind."
Those words were the final straw. They broke something in Ye Xinglan completely.
She shuddered from head to toe, crumpled to the ground, and bowed her head. Her eyes went red in an instant, and fat tears came rolling down to splatter against the stage floor, kicking up tiny puffs of dust.
She wanted to argue back, but all that came out was a choked sob. Her shoulders shook violently.
The spectators in the stands couldn't make out the details, and more than a few were left puzzled.
Arthur, however, had a perfectly clear view. He let out a surprised "Hm?"
He paused for two seconds, then slowly crouched down in front of her, that little cowlick drooping forward with the movement, nearly grazing the top of her head.
Tilting his head, he peered up at her from below, studying her reddened eyes. The mockery in his voice had evaporated, replaced by something entirely genuine: pure bafflement. "You're actually crying?"
He genuinely hadn't expected it. Ye Xinglan was the type who cried?
At that, Ye Xinglan cried even harder.
Down below the stage.
"Arthur isn't usually like this," Wu Zhangkong said, his tone carrying a trace of awkwardness. "He just enjoys putting overly arrogant kids in their place. I think he may have gone a little overboard this time."
Shen Yi glanced at him sideways. "Xinglan has always been proud. Being humiliated like that, of course she can't take it."
She moved without another word, stepping up to bring Ye Xinglan down from the stage.
The referee finally seemed to remember his role and strode briskly to the center of the platform. His voice rang out through the amplifier across the entire arena. "I hereby declare Eastsea Academy the winner of this exhibition match!"
The moment the words landed, a beat of silence fell over the stands, and then the crowd detonated. The roar that followed dwarfed everything that had come before it.
"Arthur! Arthur!"
The chants rose and fell in thundering waves. Countless arms shot into the air, every pair of eyes fastened onto that small blond figure on the stage, brimming with worship and exhilaration.
The shock of watching Shrek's legend come crashing down had set the whole arena ablaze.
Nobody was more beside himself than Long Hengxu. He threw aside any pretense of dignity, hopping up and down while windmilling his arms at everyone around him. "Arthur is from Eastsea Academy!"
"He's my student! From MY Eastsea Academy!"
~~~
Author's note: Another grueling day in the salt mines. Still regretting not going into education back then. Teachers really do have it easy. Should've just laid flat.