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

Chapter 122 Recognizing?

He only used 30% of his strength in this sword strike.

Thirty percent was the limit he could control. Any more, and his inner demons would backfire; any less, and the sword wouldn't be "heavy" enough, "sinking" enough, enough to make Ah Le feel what he wanted to feel.

A flash of white light.

When Ah Le saw that sword, a strange feeling suddenly welled up inside him. It wasn't fear, nor despair, but understanding. Like someone who had been walking in the dark suddenly seeing the first ray of light before dawn.

It turned out to be the case.

So it turns out that my elder brother died from this sword.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the white light to pierce his body.

Then the sword stopped.

The sword tip stopped three inches from his chest. It didn't pierce him, nor even touch his clothes. But Ah Le felt a heavy, suffocating force slam into his chest, like a dull thud, making his internal organs tremble. He flew off the ring and crashed onto the soft mat below, his mouth filled with a metallic taste.

He lay on the ground, panting heavily, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. His chest didn't hurt, but it felt suffocating, so suffocating he felt like he was going to explode. He struggled to stand up, but his legs felt like lead, and he fell back down after two attempts.

The referee raised his hand: "Sun Fan wins."

The stands were completely silent.

The training ground, which can hold two thousand people, was so quiet that you could hear the wind whistling through the top of the stands.

Everyone saw it. Sun Fan's sword could have pierced A Le's chest, but he didn't. He held back at the last moment, using only the wind from his sword to knock A Le off the stage.

Ah Le lay on the soft cushion, looking at the light above his head. The light from the luminous pearl was so bright that it hurt his eyes. He raised his hand to shield his eyes; there were water stains on the back of his hand, he couldn't tell if it was sweat or something else.

He remembered what his elder brother had said before he died.

"Ah Le, once we get out of here, I'll take you to a regular martial arts school. The sunshine there is better than here, and you won't have to fight so hard every day, or live in constant fear. I want to live under the sun."

Brother, you're right.

The sunshine there is really better than here.

Ah Le slowly sat up and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. The dull pain in his chest was still there, but it wasn't as bad anymore. He looked up at the figure on the arena who had sheathed his sword.

"Sun Fan." His voice wasn't loud, but the training ground was so quiet that everyone heard it.

Sun Fan turned around and looked at him.

Ah Le stood up from the cushion, straightened his body, clasped his hands together, bent over, and bowed deeply.

"Thanks."

There was only one word, but everyone could hear the weight it carried.

It wasn't gratitude for not being killed, but gratitude that allowed him to witness the sword strike with his own eyes, gratitude that confirmed his brother's death was neither an accident nor a fluke, gratitude that finally allowed him to let go.

He straightened up, turned around, and strode out of the training ground. His steps were steady, each stride the same length, as if measured with a ruler. He was going in the same direction as he had come.

He didn't look back as he walked out of his seat.

Sun Fan stood behind him and silently clasped his hands in a fist salute.

With the death of the fierce tiger, all his once reliable underlings scattered like birds and beasts.

Only Ah Le wanted to get to the bottom of things.

Sun Fan gave him a clear answer.

In the stands, Zhang Guangcheng leaned back in his chair, watching Ah Le's departing figure in silence for a long time. Then he turned to look at Feng Congyun, who was sitting in the corner. Feng Congyun was also leaning back in his chair, holding a wine jug in his hand, but he didn't drink. He was just looking at Sun Fan on the stage with a complicated expression.

Grandma Zhou sighed and shook her head: "This child—what a pity."

Yao Xiaozheng didn't speak, but just looked at Sun Fan, tapping his fingers lightly on his knee.

Outside the training ground, the sun was shining brightly.

Ah Le stood on the steps, looking up at the sky. The winter sun wasn't glaring; it shone warmly on his face, feeling very comfortable. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the air, a mixture of winter's chill and the sun's warmth, smelling wonderfully pleasant.

He remembered what his older brother had said.

An ordinary martial arts school.

He opened his eyes and looked at the school flag fluttering in the wind atop the distant teaching building. The Dark Martial Arts School's flag was black, embroidered with a blood-dripping sword, its tip pointing downwards, as if dripping blood, or perhaps pointing the way.

He watched for a while, then turned around and walked towards the dormitory building.

Time to pack up.

The sun was shining brightly outside the training ground.

Ah Le stood on the steps, squinted at the sky for a while, then looked down, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, put it in his mouth, and lit it. The smoke quickly dissipated in the cold winter air. He took two puffs, his fingers holding the cigarette trembling slightly—not because of the cold, but because the tightness in his chest hadn't passed.

When Sun Fan came out of the training ground, he saw Ah Le standing on the steps smoking, and he paused for a moment.

"Waiting for me?"

Ah Le nodded, stubbed out his cigarette, and flicked it into the nearby trash can. He turned around and looked at Sun Fan, his eyes much calmer than when he was on the stage, like the sea after a storm—though there were still aftershocks, they were no longer so turbulent.

"Sun Fan, I have something to tell you."

Sun Fan walked over and sat down on the steps. There weren't many people outside the martial arts arena; most of the students were still inside watching the competition. Only a few support staff were moving things nearby, occasionally glancing over before going back to their work.

Ah Le sat down next to him, remained silent for a while, and then spoke.

"Before my brother passed away, besides his work at the school, he was doing something else." His voice was very low, so low that only the two of them could hear, "He was working for someone. That person wasn't at the Dark Martial Arts Academy, but he had deep connections with it. My brother called him 'Boss.'"

Sun Fan's heart skipped a beat, but he remained expressionless.

"What boss?"

"I don't know." Ah Le shook his head. "My older brother has never told me who that person is. He only said that he has a lot of influence and can help us brothers clear our names and go to a regular martial arts school. My older brother believes him, and I believe my older brother too."

He paused, then took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Sun Fan.

"Every time my brother contacted that person, it was through a game called 'Path of the Warrior.' That game can be downloaded from any mobile app store; on the surface, it's a regular martial arts mobile game, but in reality—the private messaging function is encrypted. Every time my brother logged in, he would receive a message from that person, read it, and then delete it; he never kept it."

Sun Fan took the slip of paper and unfolded it. It read: "Path of the Martial Artist, Account:"

yan—gt—0917, password: ********. The handwriting was messy; it was written by Ah Le himself.

"This is my brother's account. I've tried the password, and it's correct. Before logging off, he clears all chat history, but sometimes he'll screenshot and save messages that person sent him. The screenshots are stored on his phone, which is under his pillow in his dorm room."

Ah Le stood up and dusted off his pants.

"That's all I know. Whether you can find anything out depends on your abilities."

He turned and walked down the steps. After a few steps, he suddenly stopped and said without turning back, "Sun Fan, my elder brother once said, 'In the Dark Martial Arts Academy, there are no coincidences.'"

"Take care of yourself."

After saying that, he strode forward without looking back.