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

Chapter 124 Third Round

Chen Mo.

Sun Fan silently repeated the name in his mind.

"How did he become the principal's assistant?" he asked.

Zhang Guangcheng returned the phone to Sun Fan, walked back to his desk, sat down, and lit a cigarette. The smoke rose in front of him, blurring his expression.

"Chen Mo—" He took a drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled, "was brought in from outside by Principal Lu Chen. Five years ago, when Lu Chen took over as principal of the Dark Martial Arts School, Chen Mo was by his side. No one knows his background, no one knows his martial arts level, and no one even knows what he looks like. He almost never appears in public, and all administrative orders are issued via email or internal systems. Teachers only interact with him by phone or online, and very few have ever seen his true face."

Sun Fan frowned: "How did someone who never even shows their face become the principal's assistant?"

"Because Lu Chen trusts him." Zhang Guangcheng stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Lu Chen is a man with a sharp eye; he's very good at judging people. He's never wrong about the people he trusts. At least—he never was wrong before."

He looked up at Sun Fan.

"But now, I'm not sure."

Sun Fan put his phone in his pocket and stood up.

"Old Zhang, don't tell anyone about this yet."

Zhang Guangcheng was taken aback: "You plan to investigate yourself?"

"It's not about investigating, it's about waiting." Sun Fan walked to the window, looking at the gray sky outside. "He knows I've got the phone. He knows the fierce tiger took screenshots. He knows I'll see those messages. But he's not panicking, because he knows I won't be stupid enough to go directly to Chen Moyi. I have no evidence, no witnesses, no motive. A first-year student accusing the principal's assistant of orchestrating a murder in the secret realm? Who would believe that?"

He turned around and looked at Zhang Guangcheng.

"So he won't run away. He'll stay in the shadows, waiting for me to slip up. And I—I'll let him wait."

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

"Your brain—" he shook his head, "is sometimes really scary."

"You flatter me, Mr. Zhang."

It was almost dark when Sun Fan walked out of the administration building. He stood on the steps, took a deep breath, and felt the cold winter air fill his lungs, chilly but clear-headed. He touched his phone in his pocket, feeling the coolness of the metal casing through his clothes.

Chen Mo.

He didn't know what this person looked like, his martial arts level, or why he was targeting him. But he knew one thing: Ah Le was right. In the dark martial arts academy, there were no coincidences.

From the disappearance of his parents to being framed and imprisoned, to entering a dark martial arts school, to the Yan brothers, Yan Gaojiang and Yan Gaotian, to Shen Wuxiu, to the year-end competition.

With each step, someone is pushing you from behind.

Every step points in the same direction.

Sun Fan looked up at the window on the top floor of the administration building. There was an office there, the window was always closed, the curtains were always drawn, and the light was always on.

That person is right behind that window.

But he wasn't in a hurry.

The third round of drawing lots took place on the morning of the third day.

After the first two rounds of elimination, only 32 out of 128 contestants remained. Of the two first-year students who registered, Lian Youyou was eliminated in the second round, leaving only Sun Fan as the sole remaining candidate. Of the 28 second-year students, 6 are now left. Of the 98 third-year students, 25 are now left.

There were only thirty-two billiard balls left in the lottery box. The minister reached in, stirred them around, took out a ball, and read out the name on it: "Class 5, Grade 1, Sun Fan."

The stands fell silent again. All eyes were fixed on the minister's hand, waiting for him to reveal Sun Fan's opponent.

The minister took out another ball, glanced at it, and read aloud, "Class 1, Grade 3, Luo Qingshan."

The stands erupted in a much louder uproar than in the previous two rounds.

"Luo Qingshan? The Queen's top executive?"

"It's said that Luo Qingshan has already reached the Qi Gathering Realm, making him no weaker than the Ferocious Tiger!"

"Sun Fan is finished now."

Sun Fan stood calmly in the first-year formation. He had certainly heard of Luo Qingshan, the top cadre of the day after his death. His martial arts were unfathomable; it was said that he had once sparred with the spear king Shen Wuxiu, and the two were evenly matched within thirty moves. He wasn't one of the Five Tigers or one of the Four Kings, but his strength was no less than any of them.

Luo Qingshan stood up from the third-grade formation.

He wore a dark blue training uniform, his long hair was tied back with a silver ribbon, and his features were so delicate that he didn't look like a martial artist, but rather like a young male lead on a theatrical stage. But his eyes—were cold, as cold as ice in winter, and he looked at everyone as if they were dead.

He glanced at Sun Fan, then looked away, stepped down from the stands, and walked towards the arena.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, each step carrying an indescribable composure, like a cheetah strolling on the grassland—unhurried, yet you knew it could pounce at any moment.

On the ring, the two stood face to face.

Luo Qingshan was half a head taller than Sun Fan, with a slender figure. Standing on the arena, he resembled a javelin, straight and sharp. His right hand was unarmed. Luo Qingshan did not use weapons; his martial art was called "Shattered Jade Hand," a bare-handed martial art that used the palm as a knife and the fingers as a sword.

It is said to be of the extraordinary grade, on par with the Tiger Claw Extinction Hand of the Ferocious Tiger, but Luo Qingshan has mastered it even more, and it is said to have reached the third level.

"Sun Fan." Luo Qingshan spoke first, his voice not loud but very clear, each word as if pulled from an ice cellar, "I've heard of you. The tallest first-year student, you killed the Ferocious Tiger and the Blood Blade Ancestor. Very impressive."

Sun Fan remained silent.

"But do you know what?" Luo Qingshan took half a step forward, "The reason why Fierce Tiger was able to build up a force in his third year wasn't entirely due to brute force, but also his ruthlessness."

His tone was flat, as if he were stating a fact.

"Your true strength is probably around the middle of the third grade. You can beat Li Wei, you can beat A Le, but you can't beat me."

Sun Fan's right hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he didn't draw it; he just stood there.

"So," Luo Qingshan looked into his eyes, "I advise you to admit defeat."

A gasp escaped someone in the stands. Surrender? What did surrendering mean on the arena of the Dark Martial Arts Academy? It meant giving up, it meant retreating, it meant admitting defeat.

For a martial artist, admitting defeat is more shameful than losing.

That means he no longer even has the courage to draw his sword.

"It's not that I look down on you," Luo Qingshan continued, "it's just that before my Shattered Jade Hands reached their full potential, I couldn't control my strength. Or rather, you're too strong, so strong that I can't defeat you without using my full power."

"I don't want to cripple you—the Queen thinks highly of you; she says you're the most talented swordsman the Dark Martial Arts School has had in ten years."

He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I like the diva, everyone in third grade knows that. It's because of her that I only became a student leader."

"So I don't want to disappoint her with what she asked me to do."

Sun Fan looked at Luo Qingshan and remained silent for a moment.

"So, in order not to disappoint her, you're making me admit defeat?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever considered," Sun Fan's lips curled slightly, "that what she hopes to see is not a coward who advances by relying on others' charity, but a martial artist who stands tall and fights, and even if he can't win, he loses standing tall?"

Luo Qingshan's expression changed.

It was so subtle, almost invisible, but Sun Fan noticed it.

"She said something similar." Luo Qingshan's voice lowered. "She said—"Sun Fan is someone who won't admit defeat. Making him admit defeat is an insult to him."

She's right.

Sun Fan drew his sword.