During the Republic of China era, I achieved unparalleled success by returning to the past.

Song Beiyou rushed out of the door and saw that the corridor was empty, but the mop that had been standing by the door was lying on its side on the ground.

His gaze swept past each wooden door, finally settling on one that was tightly shut. He sneered, "President, weren't you looking for me? Why are you hiding again?"

No one answered.

Song Beiyou hooked the mop that had fallen to the ground with his foot, and said as he walked away, "If you don't come out, I'm leaving. Shen Wanqing said she really likes the poem I wrote for her, hehe."

There was still no movement behind the door of the rest room. If it were anyone else, they would only think they had guessed wrong, but Song Beiyou thought to himself: This guy is quite cautious.

He straightened his back, stretched out his hands, and with a slow shake, it was like a crane spreading its wings, and his breath became long and deep.

A deathly silence reigned all around. It was as if a silent battle was taking place.

Suddenly, with a creak, the wooden door slowly opened. Behind it stood a tall, handsome young man in a black Zhongshan suit and a school cap. He glanced around and said, "Call your helper out."

"Help? I'm all alone." Song Beiyou's hands hung naturally at his sides, his posture upright and unyielding, a slow smile spreading across his lips. Those eyes were the same murderous eyes from upstairs; he had found his target.

The young man opposite him flung the door open and sneered, "No help? You think you can take on five people with your cowardly, weakling-like self? I never expected you could find someone to help you. Humph! If he doesn't come out, you won't be able to save yourself."

Song Beiyou, his black cloth shoes seemingly nailed to the ground, remained motionless, yet he calmly remarked, "He possesses genuine skill, likely having already broken through to the Ming Jin level. His cautious nature suggests an distinguished family background. He's a promising talent; why bully the weak?"

"Haha, Wen Yiwen, are you out of your mind? In this world, it's always been the case that the strong bully the weak, throughout history, don't you understand?"

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly sprang up, like a startled snake, his fists aimed straight for his chest. The two were only a few steps apart, but he arrived in an instant.

In the blink of an eye, Song Beiyou's momentum changed instantly, from stillness to movement. He slapped his palms forward, and surprisingly, he arrived first, intercepting the fists halfway through their attack.

Bang! A sudden gust of wind arose.

Song Beiyou remained unmoved, while the tall young man was sent flying into the doorway, his feet staggering backward. He crashed into the wall with the force of the impact, and "whoosh!" a mouthful of blood spurted out, his face turning pale with horror.

"How is that possible? You're definitely not Wen Yiwen, who are you?"

Song Beiyou pursed his thin lips and uttered a few words: "Debtors." After speaking, he stepped into the doorway, his slender figure blocking the other party's path like a mountain.

Jiang Qinghai clutched his chest, his back drenched in cold sweat. In just one move, he knew he was no match for this man. This person was likely a master of internal energy cultivation.

His pupils constricted as he tried to spot Song Beiyou's flaws. He absolutely refused to believe that the person in front of him was Wen Yiwen; he must have used an extremely skillful disguise.

Seeing Song Beiyou walk in, he hurriedly called out:

"Wait! Let's talk this out. I had no idea Wen Yiwen had someone as capable as you behind him. It's all a misunderstanding." His Adam's apple bobbed as he continued, "How about I make Wen Yiwen the vice president?"

Song Beiyou lowered his eyelids slightly and said calmly, "Not good."

"Friend," Jiang Qinghai quickly composed himself, "as the saying goes, having more friends means having more paths. With your skills, you must be a martial artist from Jiangzuo. Have you ever heard of Master Minglou?"

Song Beiyou frowned: "Which Mr. Minglou?"

"Jiang Minglou, he is my father."

Song Beiyou was startled and looked up to ask, "Is Jiang Minglou the one from the Zhabei boxing ring?"

Jiang Qinghai's face lit up with joy, and he hurriedly said, "That's right, that's my father. Underground boxing is just a small business. Since you know my father, you should know that he's a big shot. If you're willing to turn hostility into friendship, my father will definitely reward you handsomely." These words were spoken with a firm edge beneath the gentle tone, something that an ordinary child would never say.

Song Beiyou smiled, then abruptly changed the subject: "And who is this John you're talking about?"

Jiang Qinghai breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and clasped his hands in a fist and palm salute, saying, "To be honest, he's actually the president, and I'm just a vice president. His father is the school principal. Once Awen becomes the vice president under John, he can do whatever he wants at school."

Song Beiyou's smile froze, and he suddenly leaped forward, his hands forming sword fingers, his inner strength layered and rapidly circulating, one hand drawing out the fiery energy of the sun, and the other gathering the freezing energy of extreme cold.

It moved with lightning speed, striking Jiang Qinghai's forehead in an instant.

Jiang Qinghai was caught off guard, and his smile suddenly froze.

Song Beiyou slowly withdrew his fingers, looking at the unfocused, lifeless eyes, and said calmly, "I'll spare your life for your father's sake. But your heart is too wicked, so I'd rather not have it." His two fingers, which attacked with both water and fire, used the "Candlelight Seeking Scriptures" technique to pierce the skull with extremely subtle movements, severely injuring his frontal lobe.

Jiang Qinghai slowly slid down and collapsed to the ground, his expression blank, as if he were in a daze.

Song Beiyou gently closed the door, returned to the dark toilet room, and used the same method to deal with Wang Jiahao before walking out of the corridor.

Suddenly, a figure peeked out from the gymnasium entrance. Upon seeing him emerge, a smile spread across his chubby face, and he called out, "Wen, are you alright?"

Song Beiyou frowned, quickened his pace, and asked, "Why are you here?"

Chen Yuansong handed over the lunchbox, saying, "I was worried about you; your food's gotten cold." He looked around behind Song Beiyou, a puzzled expression on his face, "Where are they?"

Song Beiyou took the black ceramic box and smiled nonchalantly: "I'm also wondering. They called me over, saying that the president was coming to see me, but the president didn't come, and they were gone too."

Chen Yuansong blinked his small eyes: "Is that so? No wonder you weren't hurt. Then hurry up and leave, lest they come back."

The two then left the stadium. Song Beiyou's use of hidden force to injure his enemy was merely creating smoke. After he left, Wen Yiwen was just an ordinary person, and no matter how much investigation was conducted, no one would suspect him.

A thin layer of withered leaves had fallen on the playground, and when the cold wind blew, they swirled and rustled around the two of them.

Song Beiyou ate as he walked, finishing the cold rice in a few bites. He then grabbed the fat man and said, "Take this back for me and ask for leave for me."

Chen Yuansong exclaimed in surprise, "You dare to ask for leave from your theology class this afternoon?"

Song Beiyou placed the lunchbox in his hand, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Good brother, I won't forget your kindness when I become successful. Go on your way."

Chen Yuansong chuckled: "Alright, then you have to be back before school ends."

……

As the sun slowly sets in the west, a cold wind sweeps across the pointed clock tower, and the second hand on the huge dial ticks tirelessly.

The stained glass windows of the church's pointed arches were bathed in twilight, and the statues on them reflected a golden light.

Inside the church, at the altar beneath the cross, Father Moran, dressed in a long black robe, with graying hair and wide-open, droopy eyelids behind round tortoiseshell glasses, looked astonished.

"Child, what did you say?"

"Father Moran, I may have received a gift from God."

"Oh God, is it true?"

"It's true, Father, look." Song Beiyou dipped a drop of holy water into the silver-plated holy water jug, and with his will, the drop of water instantly turned into an ice needle radiating cold air.

Father Moran crossed his arms over his chest, his face beaming with joy: "Lord, thank you for your mercy. Child, quickly thank the Lord for his blessings with me."

Song Beiyou mimicked his manner, patting his chest and bowing slightly towards the statue on the cross: "Lord, your mercy is immeasurable. We thank you for your blessings."

Father Moran smiled and patted Song Beiyou's head: "I'll take you to the main academy of the Catholic Church in a few days, and then I'll recommend you for admission to the seminary."

Song Beiyou bowed to express his gratitude.

The holy water in the silver basin is stained with blood, indicating an impending event.

[After successfully helping Wen Yiwen survive the ordeal, you can choose to return immediately or stay for a moment.]

[Assessment for this tribulation: Zhuo.]

Song Beiyou felt a surge of joy. It was the first time he had been rated "Outstanding." It seemed that Wen Yiwen's troubles had been resolved quite thoroughly, and that revealing his superpowers was probably the right move.

He talked with the priest for a while longer, then said goodbye and left. After leaving the church, he walked along the sycamore-lined path towards the teaching building, back to his first-year class.