Martial Arts Secret Realm: Only I Can Know the Plot?

"On campus?"

"It's not a teacher," Zhang Guangcheng shook his head. "Teachers wouldn't do such a thing, and there's no need for them. Manipulating the system requires technical expertise and permissions; teachers with those permissions can be counted on one hand. I've asked them, and they all denied it. I believe them."

"Is that a student?"

"Students don't have that kind of permission. But—" Zhang Guangcheng paused, "If someone gets your account and password in advance, and then logs in to register using a regular terminal, the system won't detect anything unusual. The only thing that can be checked is the login time and IP address. But the IP address is fake, and the time doesn't reveal anything either—on the last day before the registration deadline, there are a large number of login records in the system, making it impossible to distinguish which ones are normal and which ones are abnormal."

"So, the trail went cold."

"It's broken." Zhang Guangcheng nodded.

There was a moment of silence in the office.

Sun Fan picked up the teacup on the table and slowly took a sip. The tea had gone cold and was a little bitter, but he didn't put it down.

"Mr. Zhang, I'll participate in the year-end competition."

Zhang Guangcheng looked at him with a complicated expression.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I'm afraid." Sun Fan put down his teacup. "But being afraid is useless. If someone wants me on stage, I'll go on stage. If someone wants to see me die on stage, I'll let them see it."

He looked into Zhang Guangcheng's eyes: "But in the end, I might not be the one who dies."

Zhang Guangcheng stared at him for a long time, then suddenly smiled.

"Okay," he said, "then let's fight."

He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Sun Fan.

"If you're going to fight, then fight well. Not for those who want to see you fail, but for yourself."

He turned around and looked at Sun Fan.

"Two months to properly train your internal strength."

Zhang Guangcheng walked back, took an envelope from the drawer, placed it on the table, and pushed it in front of Sun Fan.

"These are some of my personal elixirs, better than the ones at school. Take them and use them, don't be stingy."

Sun Fan picked up the envelope but didn't open it; he just looked at Zhang Guangcheng.

"Old Zhang, why are you helping me?"

Zhang Guangcheng was silent for a moment, then said, "People outside say I'm very arrogant."

"But I know you're way more arrogant than I am."

"It's just that your pride makes you hide this arrogance deep down."

"From beginning to end, in this vast Dark Martial Arts Academy, there wasn't a single person you considered a rival, right?"

"Live well, I want to see how far you can go."

He waved his hand: "Go ahead. Don't let me down."

Sun Fan stood up, bowed, and turned to leave.

As he reached the door, Zhang Guangcheng suddenly called out to him.

"Sun Fan."

Sun Fan turned around.

"Be careful of Shen Wuxiu."

Sun Fan frowned slightly.

Why?

"Because he's checking your information," Zhang Guangcheng said. "Very detailed information. Not your record in the competition, but your information before you entered the Dark Martial Arts School—your parents, your hometown, your junior high school, the martial arts you practiced, the friends you made."

He paused for a moment: "When someone investigates another person's past, there's usually only one reason—he's looking for weaknesses."

Sun Fan's fingers clenched slightly.

"I understand. Thank you, Mr. Zhang."

He pushed open the door and went out.

The corridor was quiet, with only the echo of his footsteps.

Shen Wuxiu.

Gun King Shen Wuxiu.

One of the strongest in the fourth grade, it is said that even the Queen of Heaven would be wary of his gun.

He has no grudge against Sun Fan, so why is he investigating him?

Unless—someone tells him to investigate.

Sun Fan recalled Feng Congyun's words: "The Dark Martial Arts School is not a charity. Most of the people here are unreasonable. If you kill Yan Gaotian, someone will come looking for trouble with you. It's not because of their deep friendship, but because—you, a first-year student, killed the Five Tiger Generals of the third year. This in itself is a slap in the face to many people."

Not everyone cares.

Someone cares.

They care so much that they want to investigate his background thoroughly, and then deliver a fatal blow when he is at his most vulnerable.

Sun Fan walked down the stairs and into the sunlight.

The sunlight was dazzling, and he squinted.

He recalled a saying: "In the world of martial arts, there are no eternal enemies, nor eternal friends. There are only eternal interests."

Whether Shen Wuxiu helps him or not has nothing to do with grudges, but only with interests.

Perhaps someone offered him a benefit he couldn't refuse.

Sun Fan was curious about what that benefit was.

If you want to know, just ask.

Shen Wuxiu lived in a separate dormitory building on the east side of the school.

That's a privilege for fourth-grade students—a single room with its own practice room, instead of having to squeeze into a large dormitory with the younger students. The building isn't big, only three floors, with six rooms on each floor, all occupied by top-tier fourth-grade students.

Shen Wuxiu lived in the innermost room on the third floor. There was no sign or name on the door, just an ordinary wooden door, painted dark brown, with a doorknob polished to a shine.

Sun Fan's hand was very steady when he knocked on the door.

Footsteps came from inside, unhurried, and then the door opened.

Shen Wuxiu stood at the door, wearing a black training uniform, with short hair and an ordinary face, the kind of person you wouldn't notice in a crowd.

His eyes, however, were exceptionally deep, possessing a maturity beyond his years.

He was younger than Sun Fan had imagined, and didn't even look like a "king"—he lacked that domineering aura and sharp edge. He was like a folded gun, quiet and reserved, but you knew that once he made a move, it would be deadly.

"Sun Fan." Shen Wuxiu's voice was flat, without surprise or hostility. Very calm.

"Senior Shen," Sun Fan nodded, "Can we go inside and talk?"

Shen Wuxiu glanced at him and stepped aside.

The room wasn't large, but it was very tidy. There was a bed, a table, a chair, a wardrobe, and a gun hanging on the wall. The gun was very long, half a foot longer than a normal gun. The shaft was jet black and shiny, made of some kind of wood, and the spearhead was silver-white, gleaming coldly under the light.

Shen Wuxiu did not invite him to sit down—there was only one chair in the room, so Shen Wuxiu sat down by himself.

Sun Fan didn't pay any attention and just stood in the center of the room, looking at the gun on the wall.

"Good gun," he said.

Shen Wuxiu didn't reply, but just looked at him, waiting for him to explain his purpose.

"Someone is investigating my past." Sun Fan turned around and looked at Shen Wuxiu. "They're investigating very thoroughly. My parents, my hometown, my junior high school, the martial arts I practiced, the friends I've made."

Shen Wuxiu tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest of the chair.

"You think I'm investigating you?"

"It's not 'feeling,' it's 'knowing,'" Sun Fan said. "Old Zhang told me."

Shen Wuxiu was silent for a moment, then said, "Old Zhang's information network is very good."

"Whether his information network is effective or not isn't the point." Sun Fan took two steps forward, moving closer to Shen Wuxiu. "The point is, why are you investigating me?"

Shen Wuxiu did not answer immediately.

He looked at Sun Fan with eyes as calm as a stagnant pool, but something was surging beneath that calm.

"Someone asked me to investigate," he finally spoke, his voice still calm. "As for why, I don't need to tell you."

Sun Fan nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

He changed his perspective.

Did Yan Gaotian contact you before he died?