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

Chapter 119 begins

"There's still a little over a month until the year-end competition." Feng Congyun stood up. "For the rest of the time, you don't need to compress your internal energy anymore. The breakthrough from the late stage of the Meridian Opening Realm to the Qi Gathering Realm isn't something you can achieve through compression; it requires a catalyst. I don't know when that catalyst will come, but there's no use in rushing it."

"So what's next in training?"

"Practice coordination." Feng Congyun walked to the center of the training room. "Coordinate your swordsmanship with your internal energy. Before, when you practiced swordsmanship, you used the power of the Expansion Realm, and internal energy was just an aid. Now that your internal energy is stronger, you need to learn to use internal energy to drive your swordsmanship, instead of using your muscles."

Sun Fan stood up and took the ordinary longsword down from the wall. The nick from his fight with the Blood Blade Ancestor was still there. He hadn't replaced it; he was used to it.

"Use internal energy to drive swordsmanship," Feng Congyun said. "It's not just about pouring internal energy into the sword; it's about making internal energy a part of the sword."

"As natural as breathing."

"When drawing the sword, internal energy surges from the dantian, flows through the meridians, reaches the wrist, and is transmitted to the blade. There must be no obstruction or hesitation along this path. The intention, the energy, and the sword must arrive together. They are a trinity, and none can be missing."

Sun Fan gripped the sword hilt, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. The heavy mass of internal energy in his dantian sensed his intention and slowly released a surge of power. This power traveled upwards along his meridians, merging with the warm energy flowing through his heart meridian. The two forces combined, becoming more solid and substantial. As the power flowed through his wrist, Sun Fan felt a slight swelling, as if something was surging outwards. He didn't suppress it, letting it flow naturally.

Then he opened his eyes and drew his sword.

A sword was thrust out. The blade left a white trail in the air. It wasn't sword light, but a visual afterimage caused by the high-speed vibration of the blade. That strike was more than twice as fast as usual, and the internal force attached to the blade transformed it from an ordinary iron sword into a gleaming, seemingly all-seeing sharp blade.

Feng Congyun stared at the white mark for a moment and then said in silence, "So your sword is called the Swift Sword."

Things are different now.

Sun Fan sheathed his sword and looked down at it. The blade was still slightly warm, the residual heat from the flow of internal energy.

"A greatsword," he suddenly said.

Feng Congyun raised an eyebrow: "A heavy sword?"

"It's not that it's actually heavy, it's that it feels heavy," Sun Fan said. "When you thrust it out, it's not light and graceful, it's heavy and powerful. Like a mountain pressing down on you."

"Perhaps this is the feeling after the sword and internal energy are perfectly combined?"

Feng Congyun nodded.

Everyone has their own way of doing things.

Some people are famous for their speed. After their swordsmanship is combined with internal energy, it becomes even faster than lightning, pushing the limits of reaction speed.

Ye Liuxing used to follow this path.

But some people slowed down.

A heavy sword has no edge, and a heavy sword has no skill.

Heavy doesn't mean slow, it means sluggish.

His ability to grasp this point already surpasses that of countless swordsmen.

Sun Fan sheathed his sword, walked to the window, and looked at the night sky. The moon was round and bright, like a silver mirror.

He had seen the moon many times in the secret realm—at the Shen family's villa in Jingzhou, at the snow-capped mountains and icy lakes, and on the night the Blood Saber Ancestor died. Each time he looked at the moon, the feeling was different.

Now, standing on the land of the Dark Martial Arts Academy, breathing the air of the present world and looking at the moon of the present world, a feeling suddenly welled up in his heart.

It's not nostalgia, not liberation, but a sense of groundedness. A sense of groundedness that comes from having your feet firmly on the ground and knowing where you should go.

The year-end competition is fast approaching. The atmosphere on campus has changed; people are talking everywhere—in the cafeteria, training grounds, and corridors. Who has a chance to win this year? Who recently made a breakthrough? Who brought back something amazing from the secret realm? It's as lively as Chinese New Year.

As Sun Fan walked around campus, he was occasionally recognized. Some people pointed and whispered, while others deliberately shouted, "That's the braggart!" He ignored them, continuing on his own path and doing his own thing.

The registration issue remains unresolved, Shen Wuxiu's matter is temporarily on hold, and the person lurking in the shadows is still in the shadows. None of these problems have been solved, but Sun Fan is not in a hurry. Being anxious won't solve anything; it's better to focus on the immediate issues.

Practice martial arts, swordsmanship, and internal energy. Day after day, month after month.

The year-end competition is scheduled for December 20th at the Central Martial Arts Arena of the Dark Martial Arts School. This arena is usually used for drills, gatherings, and events, but it transforms into a fighting ring for the year-end competition. The arena is large, accommodating two thousand spectators simultaneously. The ring, three feet high and ten feet in circumference, is erected in the center and is made of a special alloy material capable of withstanding the full force of attacks from martial artists below the fifth realm.

On the evening of December 19th, Sun Fan, unusually, didn't practice his martial arts. He sat in the courtyard, brewed a pot of tea, and gazed at the moon. Dong Dahai sat opposite him, holding a spear in his hand, its tip gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

"Class monitor, are you scared about tomorrow's lottery?"

Sun Fan picked up his teacup and slowly took a sip: "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of drawing Shen Wuxiu." Dong Dahai's voice was very low. "His hands are fast, and his gun is fast."

If he's determined to kill you—"

"He won't." Sun Fan put down his teacup.

How did you know?

"Because he hasn't obtained the second half of the Cloud Piercing Spear yet." Sun Fan looked into Dong Dahai's eyes. "If he kills me, he'll lose the second half of the Cloud Piercing Spear. He won't do something so unprofitable."

Dong Dahai was silent for a moment: "But he can injure you in the ring. He won't kill you, but he'll make sure you can't fight for a while. If you can't fight in the later matches, you'll still lose."

Sun Fan didn't answer. He knew Dong Dahai was right. Shen Wuxiu could choose not to hit him, but he could injure him.

Injuring him wasn't against the rules; it was an accident in the ring, and no one could fault it. But that was in other matches. This time, he wasn't just asking to survive, he wanted to win.

Feng Congyun pushed open the courtyard gate and walked in, carrying a wine jug, still looking as unkempt as ever. He walked to the stone table, sat down, placed the wine jug on it, and looked at Sun Fan: "Who do you hope to draw tomorrow?"

Sun Fan thought for a moment and said, "Anyone will do."

"Anyone will do?" Feng Congyun laughed. "Your mindset is good. Some people can't sleep the night before the draw, tossing and turning thinking about who they'll draw, getting more and more nervous, and their legs go weak the next day."

"There's no use thinking about it." Sun Fan poured Feng Congyun a cup of tea and pushed it towards him. "Whoever you draw is who you are. Fight if you can, and admit defeat if you can't. Life is more important than pride."

The wind rose from the clouds, lifting the teacup. Without drinking, the man looked at Sun Fan and asked, "Are you really going to admit defeat?"

Sun Fan did not answer.

Feng Congyun stared at him for a long time, then suddenly sighed: "You won't. You always say that life is more important than face, but when you're actually on the ring, you're more stubborn than anyone else."

Sun Fan picked up his teacup and slowly finished it: "Teacher Feng, when you participated in the year-end competition back then, did you ever admit defeat?"