Another year of serene cultivation had passed in Fu Huan's quiet life. Now fourteen, the young girl had grown tall and slender, her graceful figure taking on a mature silhouette. Her straight posture spoke not only of physical growth, but also of the inner confidence that had flourished through tireless training and deep contemplation of space itself. Her dark, profound gaze now held not just innate insight, but the shimmer of experience and the quiet command of a leader—one whose voice had gradually become decisive in even the most complex matters within the academy.
At fourteen, Fu Huan had grown truly formidable.
This truth was made apparent the moment one glanced upon her glowing spirit rings—yellow, yellow, purple… and then, that obsidian gleam of black tinged with indigo. Her fourth ring pulsed with a subtle energy, an aura like congealed night that coiled around her inky soul circle. The mere sight of a ten-thousand-year ring at such a stage would shake even seasoned Soul Masters, for such a feat was rarely accomplished before one's fifth breakthrough—if ever. The spiritual pressure alone would shatter the minds of the unprepared.
But Fu Huan had endured the ring's oppressive will, her body and soul withstanding the shock with grace—a testament to the brilliance of her gift.
Meanwhile, another student approached the threshold of the Spirit Sect: Dai Mubai had reached rank 39. Over the past two years, Fu Huan had not only curbed his indulgent visits to brothels but had ignited the slumbering fire within him—a renewed resolve to surpass his elder brother Davis and become worthy of his future bride.
A year prior, Dai Mubai had wandered like a shadow through fleeting pleasures, trying to numb the ache within his heart. Fu Huan had watched from afar, expressionless. Yet behind those placid eyes, sorrow quietly lingered.
"Have you already given up?"
The voice echoed cold and clear in Dai Mubai's mind.
Lounging in the arms of garishly dressed women, Dai Mubai froze, uncertain whether the voice was real or a drunken hallucination. But the clarity of it—so sharp, so precise—banished that doubt.
"Don't bother looking for me," the voice returned, firmer now. "Do you truly believe you'll never surpass Davis? Would you throw away your future for these fleeting indulgences?"
A murderous aura flared from the young man's body. The women recoiled, sensing the sudden change—the atmosphere thickening with danger.
"Mind your damn business…" he growled through clenched teeth, lightning flashing behind his eyes.
"What a pity, Dai Mubai," a soft, almost melancholic voice interrupted. Fu Huan stood before him, her small frame radiating poise. Thirteen years old then, with eyes far too clear and old for her age, she gazed at the fallen prince encircled by perfumed courtesans with painted smiles.
"I thought you were stronger. But you're just another coward. Infatuated with illusion, betraying your betrothed Zhu Zhuqing at every opportunity. A child clinging to false comforts."
Shame and fury twisted Dai Mubai's face. He had never spoken of his heritage, never shared that he was the younger prince of the Xingluo Empire, his claim to the throne a distant dream.
Fu Huan stepped closer, her voice softening. "Trust me, Dai. I won't let your brother's blade write your end in blood. I don't condone your meaningless flings—but I don't care why you do it. You are my friend. I will help you. I see the strength within you… even if you refuse to."
His breath caught. No one had ever said such things to him before—no one had believed in him like that. Memories of cold stares and silent indifference filled his thoughts. He had never known true friendship.
Oscar and Ma Hongjun—perhaps they cared, but their bond was shallow. They didn't understand the depths of his conflict.
Unlike Dai Mubai, those two had become favorite test subjects of Fu Huan's curious mind. The plump Ma Hongjun practically worshipped her, never questioning the strange powders and tinctures she brewed. One in particular, a herbal elixir with a gentle sedative effect, had helped him suppress the violent surges of his fiery spirit.
Now, the soul levels of the original Shrek trio had diverged significantly. Each had endured trials, forged in spirit and flesh.
Fu Huan — Level 44, Spirit Sect. Fourteen years old. Spirit: Spatial Emanation. Type: Versatile.
Her movements flowed like starlight, her gaze sharp as a blade that pierced illusion itself.
Dai Mubai — Level 39, Great Spirit Master. Fifteen years old. Spirit: White Tiger. Type: Power.
Determination now lit his gaze; each strike thundered with purpose, a declaration of his will to rise.
Oscar — Level 35, Great Spirit Master. Fourteen years old. Spirit: Sausage. Type: Support.
His culinary spirit skills had evolved—his sausages now wielded effects of almost miraculous potency.
Ma Hongjun — Level 33, Great Spirit Master. Twelve years old. Spirit: Evil Fire Phoenix. Type: Agility.
Thanks to Fu Huan's elixirs, he had gained control over his volatile fire, finding speed and precision in battle.
Following close behind were the newcomers, each brimming with potential:
Li Wei — Level 30. Spirit: Steel Blade. Thirteen. A relentless melee fighter, his face bore the scars of countless sparring matches.
Mei Ling — Level 30. Spirit: Shadow Cat. Thirteen. Agile and silent, she moved like a whisper in the dark.
Zhang Kai — Level 29. Spirit: Golem. Thirteen. A quiet strategist, forever scribbling diagrams and analyzing weak points.
Even the teachers of Shrek had ascended. Each had advanced at least one rank over the past year. Most notably:
Zhao Wuji, now peak Spirit Sage at rank 79. His strength was nearly unmatched.
Flender, now a Spirit Douluo at rank 82, had made a long-awaited breakthrough after absorbing a seventy-thousand-year soul ring from the Heavenly Falcon, a creature of breathtaking speed and aerial grace.
As for Fu Huan's fourth ring—its origin was unlike any seen before.
She had obtained it from the Spatial Devourer (虚空吞噬者 — Xū Kōng Tūn Shì Zhě), a being born from the chaos of the void.
Its form defied comprehension—its body ever-shifting, flowing between violet and black hues, pulsing like a dying star. No limbs, no face—just a storm of spatial energy given life. At times, glowing runes flickered across its ever-morphing mass, warping space itself, fracturing reality like shattered glass.
A nightmare from the seams of the world, this beast existed in unstable dimensional rifts—if it existed at all. Few records survived of such a creature, most dismissing it as a myth meant to frighten wandering souls.
But Fu Huan, attuned to the faintest distortions in space, had tracked it.
And slain it.
It had been a monster of boundless hunger—consuming matter and spirit alike with the ravenous pull of a black hole. It warped reality wherever it moved, slipping between realms, tearing through dimensions.
Its powers made it near invincible:
Devouring Aura: It fed on energy, growing stronger while weakening its foes.
Unstable Field: Around it, spatial laws unraveled. Spirit techniques faltered, energies bent and broke.
Chaotic Displacement: Attacks aimed at it might vanish or reappear elsewhere, space folding with unpredictable violence.
Even touching it risked madness—a brush with entropy itself.
And yet, Fu Huan had conquered it.
Her power… had grown beyond imagination.
Six months earlier
A flickering rift tore through space like a gaping wound in the very fabric of reality, pulsing with a sinister energy that throbbed like the beating heart of darkness itself. Around it, the air shuddered and light twisted unnaturally, casting warped reflections that hinted at nightmare realms just beyond perception. The ground trembled underfoot, while compasses and navigation tools spiraled into madness, pointing in all directions at once.
Flender stood beside Fu Huan—his usual nonchalance and easy confidence stripped away, leaving behind an unfamiliar gravity etched across his features. His spiritual energy struggled to circulate within the distortion, as though wading through invisible mire.
"Are you certain he's in there, Fu Huan?" Flender's voice was low and cautious, as though speaking too loudly might rupture the delicate equilibrium and awaken some slumbering terror.
Fu Huan nodded, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the rift. In place of her typical calm and perceptiveness, a fierce glint of resolve shimmered—laced with a trace of dread.
"Yes, Teacher. It's the Spatial Devourer. I can feel it… its hunger. It's like a black hole gnawing at reality, devouring energy and matter alike, leaving behind nothing but void and chaos."
The rift suddenly expanded, and something emerged—a presence beyond description. It was not merely a mass of energy, but a living maelstrom, its shape in constant flux. Shades of violet and black danced with dying starlight within its core, spiraling like galaxies being consumed by a cosmic abyss. Glowing symbols—like ancient runes lost to time—drifted across its form, warping the space around them, unraveling reality with each pulse.
The Spatial Devourer.
The battle that followed was chaos incarnate—a tempest of devastation that surpassed even Flender's most harrowing nightmares. The Devourer moved erratically, vanishing and reappearing at will, toying with the laws of the world as if they were threads in its web. It attacked not only with torrents of energy capable of reducing mountains to ash but also with spatial distortions—gravitational anomalies that tore the earth apart, fractures in space, even temporal loops that flung the unwary into glimpses of past or future.
Despite his vast experience and strength as a Spirit Douluo, Flender could barely keep up. His usual overwhelming attacks passed harmlessly through the beast, only to emerge elsewhere, disfiguring the landscape and creating fresh rifts. He was forced to draw on every scrap of wisdom and battlecraft he'd earned through years of combat—dodging distortions and shielding Fu Huan from annihilation.
But Fu Huan remained a calm eye in the storm. Amidst the chaos, her poise never wavered. Her battle spirit did more than predict the creature's movements—it read the language of space itself. Minute vibrations in the fabric of reality guided her instincts, allowing her to perceive its next step a heartbeat before it occurred.
She began crafting spatial tears, aiming not only to disrupt the Devourer's manipulation of space but to turn its own techniques against it—redirecting attacks, forcing them to collapse into themselves, or vanish harmlessly into the void. It was a delicate art, demanding unerring precision. One miscalculation could lead to catastrophe and instant death.
At last, the Spatial Devourer turned its full attention to Fu Huan, sensing the danger she posed. Tendrils of radiant, void-born energy lashed toward her—extensions of a hunger that sought to drain her spirit power and claim her essence.
She felt her power begin to ebb… but instead of resisting, she guided a stream of her spirit energy directly into the creature—not as an attack, but as bait. Then, through Spatial Perception, she altered the structure of her energy mid-flow—twisting it into chaotic instability, mirroring the Devourer's own volatile essence.
The result was confusion. The Devourer recoiled as if poisoned, its form flickering wildly with internal destabilization.
"Now!" Fu Huan shouted, her voice ringing out like the command of a war general, unwavering despite the strain.
Flender seized the moment. In that instant of vulnerability, he unleashed the full force of his power.
Eighth Spirit Skill: Swift Onslaught!
Like a comet loosed from heaven's bow, Flender surged forward cloaked in gleaming energy. He split the air with divine speed, crossing the battlefield in a blink, his strikes relentless. Blow after blow crashed into the Devourer's form, denying it the chance to retreat into its rift or recover.
Meanwhile, Fu Huan used her Spatial Perception to predict the creature's panicked movements and wove a trap before it—a wall of warped space invisible to the eye, designed to seal off its escape route.
Driven by instinct and desperation, the Devourer flailed against the unseen prison. But the snare held firm, its walls tightening with each breath, sapping the creature's strength and rendering it defenseless.
Together—Flender's devastating strikes and Fu Huan's flawless spatial manipulation—brought the battle to its crescendo. The Devourer shrieked, a sound like collapsing stars, as its body unraveled into motes of shattered energy.
With a final, deafening snap, the spatial prison collapsed inward, dragging the remnants of the beast into the abyss.
Silence fell. Only the ragged breaths of Fu Huan and Flender broke the stillness.
Fu Huan swayed, her face pale, her body trembling from the sheer magnitude of what she had endured. But within her eyes burned a steady fire—not of exhaustion, but of victory. Her final Spatial Tear had struck true, severing the core of the Devourer's being and scattering it to nothingness.
The process of absorbing the Soul Ring turned out to be incredibly difficult and exhausting. Flender watched his disciple with concern, sensing how her spiritual energy fluctuated, like a flame in the wind. He knew that the Devourer was no ordinary ten-thousand-year-old beast. Its consciousness, though primitive, was deeply intertwined with the very fabric of space, and attempting to oppose its residual will was a task that any ordinary soul sect would find insurmountable.
The first six hours saw Fu Huan in a fierce internal struggle, suppressing the remnants of the Devourer's consciousness that tried to destroy her own. Her spirit awakened within her mind, and after some difficulty, it managed to suppress the residual thoughts.
After six hours of intense battle, the phase of assimilation began. The Soul Ring finally started to merge with Fu, and her spiritual energy began to fuse with her power. Fu's physical attributes were of the highest caliber, surpassing those of ordinary Spirit Kings, but the process was slow and painful, demanding not only immense willpower from Fu Huan but also incredible concentration to guide the flow of energy and prevent destructive consequences.
The absorption lasted for a long eighteen hours, pushing Fu Huan to her limits. When the last flicker of the Devourer's energy finally merged with her own, Flender, who had been by her side the whole time, let out a relieved sigh and approached her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. His gaze was filled with pride and deep respect.
Still smiling warmly at his exhausted but radiant disciple, he quietly asked, "What skill did you acquire, Fu Huan?"
Fu Huan lifted her tired but contented eyes to him and answered in a faint but firm voice, "Spatial Perception."
Flender raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.
Fu Huan took a deep breath and began to explain, "When my fourth Soul Ring was activated, my spatial perception increased exponentially, allowing me to feel even the slightest distortions, movements, and flows of energy within a much larger radius. This heightened sense of space not only gives me a tremendous advantage in predicting attacks and detecting hidden threats, but it also allows me to control the fabric of space with much greater precision. Now, I can not only create spatial rifts and mines but also direct my spiritual energy to break the space at the point of contact with an opponent or their defense. This ability allows my attacks to bypass physical resistance as if it didn't exist, striking the target from within. Moreover, the enhanced perception lets me create more stable and manageable spatial turbulences, significantly improving the speed and accuracy of my movements between two points in space."
"You've exceeded all my expectations, Fu," Flender finally exhaled, his voice filled with admiration. "You're not just a monster among monsters. You're a true miracle. A genius born once every thousand years."
Fu Huan blushed slightly from the compliment, but her eyes shone with pride.
"Your skill will be incredibly useful against opponents with defensive types," Flender thoughtfully remarked. "And it's unlikely anyone at your level will be able to drag you into a long battle. They'll probably fall from your very first attacks."
He added with a light smile.
"Maybe, maybe not," Fu Huan responded modestly. "In any case, I'm not going to get cocky. There are still many strong people in this world, and there's always something to strive for."
After this, they decided to return to the academy.
End of Chapter 12.
End of Volume 1: Introduction.