Marvel 266

"Let's make it quick," Jin Lian said softly.

The moment the Shrek students charged, everything moved at once.

Dai Mubai led the charge with a tiger roar, claws out, rushing toward Bai Chao. But his attack stopped midway—his feet locked in place as strands of invisible thread coiled around his ankles.

"What—!?"

Jin Lian stood calmly, fingers weaving in the air. His Netherworld Needle had spread a field of thread-like needles through the ground—barely perceptible, yet impossible to escape once triggered.

At the same time, Bai Chao stepped forward and raised both arms. A translucent shell appeared in front of him, blocking three of Shrek's Spirit Masters with a single defensive skill. One of them tried to flank—but a spear pierced the ground near his foot.

Su Xulu flashed beside him with elegant footwork, her Flame Pattern Spear twirling. Every movement flowed like a dance, yet struck with the force of a blazing storm.

Tang San's eyes widened as he watched the precision and discipline of the trio.

"These aren't ordinary students," he muttered. "Each of them is a specialist in their field. "

"Fall back!" he shouted—but it was already too late.

In less than a minute, the Shrek team was thrown off balance. Dai Mubai was down, restrained by Jin Lian's threads. Ma Hongjun was burned across his sleeves by Su Xulu's spear tip. Ning Rongrong tried to boost with her spirit but couldn't even keep up with the pace of the battle.

And as Bai Chao stomped forward, his phantom turtle's spirit impact alone forced Oscar to drop his sausage.

The spectators were dead silent.

Zhao Wuji's relaxed smile had vanished. His eyes narrowed as he stood up slightly from his seat.

"They're... this strong at only level 30?"

Max leaned back in his chair, watching it all unfold with an indifferent gaze. He didn't even smirk.

"They're just getting started," he said softly.

Dai Mubai struggled against the invisible restraints, his muscles bulging as he growled, "Damn it! I can't move!"

Tang San dashed forward, trying to cut the threads with his Blue Silver Grass, but his vine was deflected mid-air—Jin Lian had anticipated the move and redirected the thread's flow like a web, shifting its tension. Each strand of his Netherworld Needle wasn't just steel—it was imbued with spirit power and killer intent.

Su Xulu moved like a flame incarnate. Her spear danced in her hands, striking with clinical precision. A single sweep disarmed Zhu Zhuqing, who tried to approach from the side. She leapt back, panting, her cat-like reflexes overwhelmed.

Bai Chao was a mountain—immovable, calm. He absorbed a Spirit Strike from Tang San with barely a grunt, then slammed the ground with his foot. A shockwave rippled outward, cracking stone and sending Xiao Wu tumbling.

"Enough!" Tang San yelled, Blue Silver Grass spreading like a net to protect his teammates.

But Max stood up slowly and said with finality, "Time."

Immediately, the three Ghidorah Academy students stopped mid-attack and pulled back in unison. Jin Lian's threads retracted with a sharp whip into the shadows behind him. Su Xulu withdrew her spear with a clean spin and returned to formation. Bai Chao folded his arms and stepped back like a fortress disengaging.

The dust settled.

Dai Mubai slumped to one knee, still breathing heavily. His pride more wounded than his body.

Zhao Wuji's mouth twitched. He was not used to seeing his students being so thoroughly overwhelmed. His eyes narrowed as he walked over to Max, his expression guarded.

"They must be your academy's top three students," he said cautiously. "What's your academy's name?"

Max glanced at him coolly. "Ghidorah Academy."

Zhao Wuji's pupils contracted slightly. Of course, he had heard of Ghidorah Academy—an elite institution known not for taking in prodigies, but for forging them through sheer will and work. There, no natural genius meant anything without discipline. They accepted no mediocrity, and every year, students who couldn't keep up were expelled—brutally honest and relentlessly demanding.

"A cutthroat academy... where only hard work matters," Zhao Wuji muttered under his breath.

"Let's go back," Zhao Wuji finally said, turning around with a sigh, but—

"Did I say you could leave?" Max's voice rang out sharply.

Zhao Wuji turned around, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

Max stood, eyes like blades. "You allowed your students to instigate trouble, and only acted once they were embarrassed. My students returned the disrespect, and now you wish to walk away like nothing happened?"

Zhao Wuji narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

Zhao Wuji's brow furrowed. The name Mo Tian echoed faintly in his memory—rumors, whispers in high-level circles, always vague but spoken with a strange mix of caution and awe.

But pride ran deep in Zhao Wuji. He had survived warzones, bandits, and beasts. He would not be cowed by a man whose reputation was built in shadows.

"You think I'll just let two of my students kneel?" he growled, spirit power rising around him like a storm. "You want consequences? Fine—let me show you why they call me the Vajra Bear King."

Seven spirit rings exploded around him in sequence—yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black. The ground trembled beneath his feet as his muscles bulged and his body seemed to grow half a size, a golden-brown fur sheen crawling over his skin. His eyes glowed with primal ferocity.

But Max… didn't even flinch.

In the next moment, he simply raised his hand.

A pulse of power rippled out—not loud or flashy, but suffocating. It wasn't brute force, but presence—something far beyond mere pressure. The kind of force that made even seasoned warriors hesitate.

Zhao Wuji staggered slightly.

This... isn't Spirit Emperor pressure.

Max looked at him, already knowing exactly what he was thinking. He didn't say a word. Instead, he slowly raised his hand—and summoned his Martial Spirit.

A surge of energy burst forth, shaking the ground slightly. From behind Max, a massive three-headed dragon emerged, its presence exuding primal power and overwhelming might. Its scales shimmered with dark gold and violet hues, and each head let out a silent roar that echoed in the minds of those nearby.

***

Support me at

patreon.com/boring_world

It's 22 chaps ahead