I started by watching videos, and I chose 10,000 combat power.

When Luo Fei and Luo Yumei arrived at the school, the door to the Political Education Office was half-closed.

Across the entire corridor, a woman's shrill, high-pitched voice could be heard, each word dripping with a ruthless intent to tear someone apart: "How did this little bitch's parents raise her child? They broke my son's arm! He's only fourteen! If he's crippled, can they afford to compensate him?"

Luo Yumei quickened her pace, with Luo Fei following closely behind, and the two entered the office one after the other.

The office of the Political Education Department was not large, about thirty square meters.

Inside, there was a dark-colored desk and a row of metal filing cabinets. In the corner stood a potted green ivy, its leaves drooping listlessly, half of them withered and yellow, looking like it was about to die.

A middle-aged man with a side-parted hairstyle and silver-rimmed glasses sat behind the desk.

He did not get up, but remained seated with his hands crossed on the table, his expression serious and the corners of his mouth slightly downturned.

A young female teacher, about thirty years old, with a ponytail, stood next to the desk. She was Zhao Lin's homeroom teacher, Ms. Zhao.

A middle-aged couple was sitting on the sofa nearby.

The man was bald, wore a gold chain about the thickness of a little finger around his neck, and had two buttons undone at the collar of his shirt.

The woman had curly hair, thick foundation on her face, bright red lipstick, and wore a bright purple dress.

The skirt clung tightly to her body, and when she sat down, the hem rode up, revealing part of her thigh above her knees.

She didn't seem to notice, or didn't care about, this detail.

She was still yelling and cursing loudly, so loud that the whole corridor could hear her.

A boy was sitting next to the bald man.

The boy's right arm was in a cast and draped around his neck with a bandage.

His face showed no sign of pain; in fact, there was even a hint of smugness on his lips.

His eyes were small, narrowed into slits, and the gaze that pierced through them showed no sign of grievance, but rather an air of arrogance that said, "You all have to give in to me when I'm hurt."

Zhao Lin stood in the corner, her back against the filing cabinet, her hands hidden behind her back, her fingers digging into the gaps in the metal cabinet.

Her school uniform sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, her hair was slightly messy, and there was a faint red mark on her cheek, as if she had been scratched by something. Fortunately, the skin was not broken, and it was almost invisible unless you looked closely.

Her expression wasn't like that of a little girl who had just been in a fight; there was no fear or grievance whatsoever. Instead, she had a stubborn look that said, "I did nothing wrong." Her chin was slightly raised, her lips were tightly pursed, and her gaze remained fixed on the doorway.

The moment she saw Luo Yumei and Luo Fei walk in, her eyes instantly reddened, but she managed to hold back her tears and didn't cry.

Luo Yumei quickly walked to Zhao Lin's side and carefully checked her for injuries.

Zhao Lin whispered, "Mom, I'm fine."

Luo Yumei noticed the red marks on her face, frowned slightly, then stood up and turned to the couple.

The curly-haired woman continued her tirade, her voice rising another notch: "Your child has a mother but no one to raise him, huh? If my son is left disabled, I'll make your whole family pay dearly!"

Luo Yumei took a deep breath, her voice soft but each word steady: "Parent, the matter hasn't been clarified yet, so please don't rush to anger. My child wouldn't have acted without reason; there must be a cause."

The curly-haired woman's voice rose even higher as she half-stood up from the sofa, pointing her finger at Luo Yumei's nose: "A reason? What reason? My son's arm is broken, and you're telling me there's a reason? Your little bitch—"

That's enough.

Luo Fei shouted angrily, and all sound in the office fell silent.

The curly-haired woman's mouth was still open, but the last syllable of the word "cheap" was stuck in her throat, as if someone was choking her.

The bald man withdrew his gaze from Zhao Lin's face and turned to Luo Fei, looking him up and down. His lips twitched slightly, probably as he was assessing the other man's identity.

Class teacher Ms. Zhao quickly tried to smooth things over, her tone slightly hurried: "Parents, please calm down. The matter is still under investigation, and the school will handle it fairly. We are currently reviewing the surveillance footage, and once we've seen it, the truth will become clear."

The director of the Political Education Department sat down behind his desk before slowly speaking. His voice was not loud, but he deliberately kept it exceptionally steady.

However, his next words seemed a bit off: "I just checked the surveillance footage. The camera at that location was under repair and didn't capture what happened. So, the current situation is that we only have the two children's statements, no video evidence."

Luo Fei shifted his gaze from Zhao Lin to the director of the Political Education Department.

The director's expression was calm. His hands were crossed on the table, his fingers did not move, but his thumb nail lightly scratched the back of his other hand again and again.

The injured boy spoke up, his voice filled with grievance: "She hit me for no reason. I was walking past her when she suddenly pushed me, I fell down, and then she stepped on my arm."

After he finished speaking, he lowered his head, as if deliberately concealing something.

Zhao Lin's voice came from the corner, calmer than a fourteen-year-old who had just experienced a conflict: "He's lying. He was the one who tried to stab me with a knife first."

Silence fell over the office once again.

The homeroom teacher, Ms. Zhao, stared blankly for a moment, her mouth slightly agape. It was unclear whether she was startled by the word "knife" or surprised by Zhao Lin's unusually calm tone.

The bald man narrowed his eyes, while the curly-haired woman on the sofa froze instantly. The word "knife" was like a stone stuck in her throat, preventing her from uttering a single word.

The director of the Political Education Department raised his hand from the table and pushed up his glasses.

Luo Fei shifted his gaze from the director to Zhao Lin.

Zhao Lin was also looking at him, and the moment their eyes met, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

Luo Fei did not ask Zhao Lin for details; he trusted her.

After all, this was a little girl who had practiced the first two sets of body-refining techniques with him.

For her, breaking the arm of an ordinary student who was attacked with a knife was an easy thing to do in retaliation.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, glanced down, and saw it was a message from Xiao Wan.

The screen displayed a message and a screenshot: "Captain, we have hacked into the school's surveillance system. The surveillance footage of that location at the time of the incident has been deleted. The deletion time was 3:03 PM today, and the IP address of the terminal that performed the deletion operation points to the computer in the office of the Director of the Political Education Department."

The screenshot is an operation log of the monitoring system, which clearly shows the time, IP address, and account used to delete the record.

Luo Fei put his phone back in his pocket.

He raised his head and looked at the director of the Political Education Department again.

The director's gaze never met Luo Fei's; he kept looking at the folders on the desk, at his own fingers, at the pen in front of him—he looked at everything except Luo Fei.

Luo Fei took two steps forward, walked to the desk, and stood in front of the director.

The director finally looked up and met Luo Fei's gaze.

The pupils of the eyes hidden behind the silver-rimmed glasses contracted slightly.

Luo Fei spoke up.

The voice wasn't loud, but every word felt like a weight pressing down on the director of the political education department: "The surveillance cameras weren't broken; you deleted them."

The director's face went from slightly flushed to deathly pale.

He stood up from his chair, which slid backward and crashed into the filing cabinet with a dull metallic clang. His mouth was open, and his voice, as if squeezed from his throat, was shrill and thin: "What...what nonsense are you talking about? When did I delete the surveillance footage? Don't make false accusations!"

Luo Fei didn't answer his question. He took out his phone, opened the screenshot that Xiao Wan had sent, turned the screen towards the director, and held it up in front of him.

"The deletion time, IP address, and your employee ID are all listed above. Do you want me to show this to everyone?"

The director's face turned deathly pale, and he could no longer regain his former composure.

His legs went weak, and he braced himself on the table with his hands, his five fingers spread out, his nails scraping against the bare tabletop with a faint sound that made one's teeth ache.

Teacher Zhao stared at the director's expression, her mouth agape. The folder slipped from her hand, scattering its contents all over the floor.

The bald man also stood up from the sofa, his gold chain dangling from his chest. His expression was no longer the self-righteous "I am the victim" it had been before, but rather one of unease.

The director of the political education department, leaning on the table, finally managed to squeeze out a sentence: "I... I did it for the school's reputation... If word got out that two kids were fighting, it wouldn't be good for the school... I didn't mean to cover for anyone..." He stopped mid-sentence because even he knew that his reason was untenable.

Luo Fei looked at him and said, "Deleting surveillance footage for the sake of the school's reputation? Allowing a child with a knife to stay in school for the sake of the school's reputation? You're the director of the political education department, not the director of destroying evidence."

The director's lips trembled, and his face was deathly pale.

The homeroom teacher, Ms. Zhao, picked up the folder from the ground, dusted it off, and straightened up.

She looked at the director, hesitant to speak, then hesitant again, but in the end she said nothing.

But her eyes changed; they weren't filled with anger, but with disappointment.

Luo Yumei stood next to Zhao Lin, with her arm around her daughter's shoulder.

Zhao Lin leaned against her mother, her chin still raised, but her nose felt a little sore.

Luo Fei glanced at the director of the political education department, then at the injured boy, who was nestled in the bald man's arms, his face full of smugness.

Luo Fei turned around and said to everyone, "Call the police. Let the police investigate. Even if the surveillance footage is deleted, it can be recovered. As long as the hard drive sectors where the deleted files were stored haven't been overwritten, professional data recovery methods can retrieve them. Who deleted it, why they deleted it, what they saw before deleting it—all of that will be clear then."

The director's hand slid off the table, and he slumped back into his chair.

The chair made a piercing creak, as if it were about to fall apart.

He had his head down, so you couldn't see his face, only his shoulders were trembling slightly.