Gu Yuena ended the conversation with just one sentence.
From her point of view, though, there was nothing wrong with what she said.
After all, considering her age, she could easily be the ancestor of everyone present.
"Alright then, I'll just call you Sister."
Despite her first attempt being unsuccessful, Ning Rongrong wasn't discouraged.
When it came to anything involving Brother Hongjun, she could summon twice her usual motivation!
Whether it was Gu Yuena or that woman Meng Yiran from the Grand Forest, she would figure them out—and take them down one by one!
"Then, Sister Gu Yuena, could you tell us what your martial spirit and soul power are? If we're going to be teammates, we should understand each other."
"If it's inconvenient, you don't have to say anything~"
She blinked playfully. Her beautiful, innocent eyes, paired with her refined features and charming presence, made her utterly disarming.
Oscar nearly tripped over himself, and even Dai Mubai couldn't help stealing a few extra glances.
Gu Yuena, however, wasn't moved by the girl's sweet pleading. She thought for a moment, then turned her eyes to the red-haired boy.
Her meaning was clear: How do I even explain this?
She couldn't tell Ning Rongrong she didn't have a martial spirit. And her soul power level? Ninety-nine? Maybe even a hundred? Who could say for sure?
"Gu Yuena's martial spirit is the Silver Dragon, and her soul power level is thirty-five," Ma Hongjun said with a helpless expression, covering his forehead.
"Don't overthink it. We'll explain more tomorrow. Don't worry—Gu Yuena is easy to get along with."
Silver Dragon? Level 35?
Everyone was stunned.
Just the name alone sounded like a top-tier martial spirit. And her soul power was on par with Dai Mubai's?
She looked even younger than he did!
Their curiosity deepened, but since Ma Hongjun had spoken, they didn't press further. One by one, they bid their goodbyes and left.
The girls planned to do some digging once they got home.
The boys would quietly ask Ma Hongjun about it later.
As for Flander and Zhao Wuji...
They had no interest in asking anything at the moment.
Boom!
The old wooden door slammed shut.
Flander sat down heavily at the worn table and chair, ran his hands through his messy hair, and stared in silence at the portrait in front of him.
In the photo, Flander was grinning. Next to him stood a plain-looking young man and a beautiful girl with a ponytail.
"Xiao Gang, your disciple is dangerous..."
He traced the face of the young man in the photo, then paused at the girl. Bitterness flashed in his eyes.
"I promised Erlong I'd take care of you… but I also have other students to look after. I hope you won't blame me."
He sighed, flipped the portrait face down on the table, and was about to get up to pour himself a glass of water—
—when his expression suddenly changed.
In one smooth motion, he snatched the photo and dodged to the side.
BOOM!!!
An explosion roared through the room, followed by a vicious gust of wind that tore the place apart.
Cough, cough…
In the ruins, Flander clutched his chest and coughed heavily. He quickly checked the portrait—thankfully, it was still intact.
But when he looked up, his face turned grim.
His modest office had been reduced to rubble.
"Who are you?! To sneak attack someone like a coward—too afraid to show yourself?"
Flander shouted furiously. He stood up, entering his Owl Possession state in an instant. Cold light reflected off his glasses as he scanned the area.
But despite the owl's sharp senses, he found nothing.
Then, as he turned forward again, his heart skipped a beat.
A tall figure in a black robe had appeared without warning.
"Flander, the infamous Flying Horn of the Golden Triangle…"
The man slowly lifted his hood, revealing a weathered face with a scruffy beard. Despite his cloudy eyes, they gleamed with a deadly sharpness.
"A fake like you—are you really fit to be a teacher?"
As his voice boomed out, a terrifying pressure surged over the room.
Flander's cheeks burned from the aura alone. His body tensed, and his heart sank.
This man... was a true powerhouse.
And one far above him in strength.
Damn it. Is he an enemy?
Flander gritted his teeth but quickly forced a flattering smile.
"Senior, I haven't gone by 'Flying Horn' in many years. If there's a misunderstanding, why don't we find somewhere private and talk it out?"
He raised his voice on purpose, glancing out of the corner of his eye toward the teachers' residences, feeling more and more anxious.
Old Zhao, Old Zhao—whatever else you mess up, please figure out what's going on now and get the kids to safety!
"Don't try to play smart, Flander."
The man in black snorted with disdain. "Today, none of you will leave. Not Zhao Wuji. Not that red-haired brat. Not those little girls."
"We still have an old score to settle."
The red-haired boy and the little girl?
Flander froze—then his expression changed completely.
Hum!!!
Seven soul rings—yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black—rose from his body. His spirit pressure surged, barely holding off the oppressive force of his opponent.
He straightened his back, stared straight at the man, and spoke slowly and clearly:
"If you've got a problem, deal with me. This has nothing to do with the kids."
He's targeting Hongjun and the others?
How long has this guy been watching the academy?
"This has nothing to do with the kids?"
The black-robed man scoffed.
"You couldn't be more wrong, Flander. The ones I want to kill most are... that red-haired boy and the girl with the scorpion braid!!"
BOOM!!!
A monstrous aura exploded into the sky.
A colossal black hammer materialized in the man's hand, dark light radiating from its surface. His robe billowed violently in the windless room. The immense pressure made Flander's face turn pale, and cold sweat drenched his back.
But what truly froze him in place—
—was the sight of the spirit rings spinning around the hammer.
Nine rings, perfectly aligned:
Yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black, black... red.
That final ring, a blood-red glow full of demonic energy, left Flander's throat dry and his eyes dazed.
"The Clear Sky Hammer... A 100,000-Year Spirit Ring… You're…"
"Haotian Douluo—Tang Hao!!!"
He cried out in despair.
Flander could never have imagined—
That he had somehow provoked the youngest Title Douluo in history—
The very God of Slaughter who dared challenge the Pope of the Spirit Hall!
"Good. Since you know who I am, there's no need to waste words."
The man in the black robe—Tang Hao—nodded, slowly raising the enormous hammer in his hand.
"To die under this hammer... is your honor."