Chapter 167: Dogs Without a Home
Outside Heaven Dou City, on the official road.
The afternoon sun beat down fiercely; its rays struck the road, causing a faint layer of heat haze to rise into the air.
In the distance, Heaven Dou City stood towering and majestic; its massive walls gleamed with a grayish-white luster under the sunlight.
At the city gates, people came and went in a ceaseless stream, carriages and horses bustled about—it was a scene of sheer prosperity.
However, the group of travelers walking from the far end of the road seemed utterly out of place amidst this bustling affluence.
There were seven of them in total.
Four young people, and three middle-aged adults.
Each of them was travel-worn and covered in dust, their faces etched with exhaustion.
Although their clothes remained relatively clean, the sense of despondency and gloom that radiated from their very bones was something they could not conceal, no matter how hard they tried.
They were, in fact, the remnants of Shrek Academy.
Flender walked at the very front; his face—once so shrewd and capable—was now written over with utter haggardness.
His eyes were deeply sunken into their sockets, the bags beneath them swollen and puffy, and his lips were cracked and parched. He looked as if he had aged ten years overnight.
Behind him, Tang San, Dai Mubai, Oscar, and Zhu Zhuqing followed in silence.
The four young people wore equally low spirits, their footsteps heavy and leaden—as if the ground beneath their feet were not a solid road, but rather a treacherous quagmire.
Bringing up the rear were the two teachers, Shao Xin and Lu Qibin.
Although they were older and possessed far greater life experience, even they could not hide their weariness at this moment.
This group of travelers did not look like a team from an "academy" at all.
They looked, instead, like a pack of dogs without a home.
Yes—dogs without a home.
Just a month ago, they had been the teachers and students of Shrek Academy.
Although the academy itself was dilapidated and their living conditions were harsh, they at least had a "home."
Now, that home was gone.
...
Rewinding the timeline slightly: Soto City.
On that fateful day—after Gu Rong had left to pursue Jiang Li’er and Ning Rongrong—the Shrek group struggled painfully to rise from the ground.
Leaning on one another for support, they made their way back to their few dilapidated wooden cabins.
Flender lay upon his bed, his body covered in bruises and contusions. He grimaced in pain, yet deep within his heart, he still clung to a faint glimmer of hope: The Bone Douluo has vented his anger; surely, this matter must be settled now?
However... early the very next morning...
A squad of Spirit Hall deacons stepped through the gates of Shrek Academy.
Leading the group was a middle-aged man clad in a silver robe trimmed with red; embroidered upon his chest was the high-ranking emblem of Spirit Hall—he was, unmistakably, a Bishop.
He demanded in a menacing tone, "Who is Flander?"
Flander’s heart skipped a beat. He hurriedly stepped forward to greet the man, plastering a smile onto his face: "My Lord, I am Flander. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?"
The Bishop cast a cold glance at him, then produced an official document and read it aloud for all to hear: "A report has been filed alleging that Shrek Academy is operating in violation of regulations. It lacks proper accreditation, suffers from abysmal teaching conditions, and severely disrupts the established order of Spirit Master education in this region!"
"Upon verification, these allegations have been confirmed as true! Effective immediately, Shrek Academy is hereby sealed! All personnel are ordered to vacate the premises by the end of today!"
Upon hearing this, Flander felt his vision go dark; he nearly coughed up a mouthful of blood in sheer shock!
"Bishop, this... how can this be? Every year, I have..."
"Have what—every year?" The Bishop cut him off, his gaze icy.
"Flander, don’t bother trying to play the ’old friends’ card. That old geezer you used to deal with was transferred out last month. I’m choosing not to pursue the matter of your bribery for now; my only concern at this moment is the sealing of this academy!"
Flander’s face fell completely, though he still attempted to say something more.
However, the Bishop waved his hand impatiently: "Enough with the nonsense! You have until the end of the day to clear out; otherwise, don’t blame us for getting rough!"
"Bishop..."
He wanted to make one last plea; his hand instinctively reached inside his robe, groping for the gold card—one of the very few he had left.
But the Bishop raised a hand to stop him.
"Flander, don’t waste your time. You’d be better off saving that money for your own retirement."
Flander’s hand froze in mid-air.
The Bishop turned his gaze away from Flander and looked toward the trembling crowd standing behind him: "Which of you is Zhao Wuji?"
Zhao Wuji blinked in bewilderment. He stepped forward, looking somewhat bewildered. "It’s me. What’s the matter?"
The Bishop looked him up and down, a glint of sharp insight flashing in his eyes. "So you are the one—Zhao Wuji, the ’Immovable Bright King’?"
Zhao Wuji’s rather simple mind hadn’t quite caught up yet; he merely nodded blankly. "Yeah. So what?"
The Bishop smiled.
That smile sent a shiver of unease down Zhao Wuji’s spine.
"Good! Good! Good!"
The Bishop repeated the word "good" three times, the smile on his face growing ever wider.
"I searched high and low for you to no avail, yet here you are—falling right into my lap without me lifting a finger!"
"You’ve truly handed me another major merit on a silver platter! Hahahaha!"
He waved his hand. "Guards! Seize him!"
Several deacons immediately stepped forward, encircling Zhao Wuji.
At first, Zhao Wuji considered fighting back; however, glancing down at his sole remaining right hand, he sighed and abandoned the thought of resistance.
He stood his ground, allowing the deacons to shackle him without a struggle.
The Bishop walked up to him and fixed his gaze upon him.
"Zhao Wuji, we haven’t forgotten the crimes you committed all those years ago. Bullying the innocent, robbery and murder, injuring Spirit Hall deacons and breaking through our encirclement to escape—every single one of those offenses is recorded in Spirit Hall’s ledger."
"Now that you’ve finally been caught in the net of justice, do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Zhao Wuji hung his head and remained silent.
There was absolutely no expression on his face.
No anger. No indignation. No fear.
Only a profound... numbness.
It was as if all his vitality and spirit had been drained away, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.
Watching him in this state, Flender felt a surge of complex, indescribable emotions welling up inside him.
Was this truly the same Zhao Wuji he had known?
The "Immovable Bright King"—the man who feared nothing under the heavens?
The desperado who had antagonized countless factions yet always managed to walk away unscathed?
How... how could it have come to this...?
"Old Zhao..."
He reached out his hand, wanting to say something, but found that the words simply wouldn’t come.
Zhao Wuji raised his head and cast a brief glance at him.
Those eyes—once so fierce and menacing—now held nothing but a look of utter desolation.
"Boss Flender..."
His voice was hoarse, as if squeezed from the very depths of his chest: "I’m tired."
"I don’t want to keep running anymore."
Flender’s hand froze in mid-air.
The Bishop cast a glance at him and said coolly, "Flender, there is no need for you to panic. Zhao Wuji is, after all, a wanted criminal of our Hall; arresting him is strictly official business. You have merely violated regulations by operating an unauthorized school; the situation has not yet reached the point where we would arrest you."
He paused for a moment.
"However, you may no longer operate this school. Disband it as soon as possible, and leave this place."
Having said this, he waved his hand: "Escort Zhao Wuji—we return to the Hall!"
The deacons led Zhao Wuji away.
After taking a few steps, the Bishop suddenly halted, turning back to look at Flender.
"Oh—I almost forgot..."
The corners of his mouth curled upward slightly.
"Flender, there is a fine: ten thousand Gold Soul Coins."
Flender’s body went rigid instantly.
He parted his lips, intending to speak, but could only manage to stammer out a few broken words: "I... I..."
The Bishop watched him, his gaze holding a hint of amusement.
Flender lowered his head and fumbled inside his robes, pulling out a small gold card.
It was the last of his remaining assets.
With trembling hands, he handed the gold card to the Bishop.
"I only have... three thousand Gold Soul Coins."
"I cannot pay a single coin more."
The Bishop accepted the gold card, scanned it briefly with his Soul Power, and gave a slight nod.
He cast a deep, penetrating look at Flender, then tucked the gold card into his storage Soul Tool, turned, and walked away.
After taking a few more steps, he muttered under his breath: "No money? If you have no money, why on earth did you open an academy in the first place...?"
The voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly into the ears of everyone present.
Flender stood rooted to the spot, clenching his fists until his knuckles cracked.
His chest heaved violently, and the veins on his face bulged with rage.
For a fleeting moment, he truly wanted to charge forward and throw himself into a desperate, all-out brawl with that Bishop.
But in the end... he slowly unclenched his fists.
He took a deep breath—then another.
He turned around to face the group of people standing behind him. The three teachers—Li Yusong, Shao Xin, and Lu Qibin—and the four students: Dai Mubai, Tang San, Oscar, and Zhu Zhuqing.
Seven people, seven pairs of eyes—all fixed upon him.
Flander parted his lips, his voice hoarse: "You guys... go on..."
"Everyone... disperse..."
Leaning on his staff, Li Yusong slowly walked up to stand before him.
He cast a glance at Flander—a look filled with the weight of a friendship spanning over a decade, yet also tinged with helplessness and weariness.
"Boss Flander..."
He let out a sigh: "I suppose... we’ll meet again someday."
Having said his piece, he turned around; leaning on his staff, he walked away, one slow step after another.
He was an old man now; moreover, having taken a beating from Gu Rong just a few days prior, this dissolution of the academy seemed like the perfect opportunity for him to find a quiet place to retire and live out his remaining years in peace.
With his cultivation level as a Soul Emperor, finding a small village where he could live like a petty tyrant would be no trouble at all.
Flander watched his retreating figure, offering no words.
Li Yusong was gone.
Shao Xin and Lu Qibin exchanged glances, neither of them making a move.