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

Chapter 130 Flashback

He joined the Empress's ranks, learning her martial arts philosophy, her training methods, and her understanding of combat. Once he had learned enough, he left, seeing it as growth, not betrayal.

He investigated Dong Dahai's background and the whereabouts of the Cloud Piercing Spear for decades, and finally found out. He thought he could finally complete the Dragon Roar Spear, turning the precious level back into the true level, and making the half-finished spear technique complete.

And then what? And then he was satisfied? And then he could surpass the Queen, surpass all the ancestors of the Shen family, and become the strongest gunslinger in the Dark Martial Arts School?

do not know.

He never thought about "then". He only knew to move forward, rush forward, and climb forward. As for where he climbed to, or what to do after he got there, he never thought about it. Now he knows.

The finish line he reached was the tip of a first-year student's sword.

If he could do it all over again, would he make different choices? Would he still investigate Dong Dahai to improve his marksmanship?

Would he still agree to that person's conditions in order to obtain the Cloud Piercing Spear? Would he still use this ruthless fighting style on the arena to force Sun Fan to use that sword strike?

I don't know. I really don't know.

But there was one thing he knew: if he could have a brother like Sun Fan, perhaps everything would be different. It wasn't that he hadn't met people he could confide in before; Luo Qingshan might have been one, but he thought Luo Qingshan was too foolish, wasting too much time on a woman, and they eventually parted ways.

Perhaps she counts as half a diva?

He felt that the diva was a woman, that there was a difference between men and women, and that she was too beautiful, so beautiful that people dared not approach her.

Now he realized that the fool wasn't Luo Qingshan, but himself. At least Luo Qingshan knew what he wanted: he wanted the Empress. And what about him? What did he want? Marksmanship? Power? Fame?

The sword flashed across his chest.

It wasn't deep, but it was precise. Precise enough to cut exactly an inch outside his heart, avoiding all fatal spots. Sun Fan held back at the last moment—not because he was holding back, but because he had lost control of the sword's trajectory. The backlash from his inner demons was too swift; his vision was beginning to blur, his wrist was trembling, and the sword tip was no longer under his control.

He could only promise not to kill. As for the extent of the injury, he didn't know. The sword light dissipated. Shen Wuxiu looked down at the wound on his chest, blood gushing from it, staining his black outfit red. It wasn't fatal, but it was deep, deep enough that he could see his ribs.

He looked up at Sun Fan.

Sun Fan stood there, the spear still embedded in his left shoulder, blood gushing out. His face was as white as paper, and the bloodshot in his eyes seemed about to drip out. His right hand gripped the sword, blood still dripping from its tip. His fingers trembled, not from fear, but from muscle spasms caused by the depletion of his inner strength.

The two men stared at each other. The arena was so quiet you could hear the sound of blood dripping onto the alloy floor. Drip, drip, drip.

Shen Wuxiu spoke first, his voice terribly hoarse.

"What's the name of this sword strike?"

"A deadly sword strike."

Shen Wuxiu nodded. "A good name. A good sword."

He looked down at the wound on his chest and suddenly smiled. It was a very soft smile, like a pebble rolling down his throat.

Finally, he raised his head, looked at Sun Fan, and said something that no one expected.

"Perhaps, if I had met you back then, I wouldn't be like this now."

Sun Fan remained silent.

Shen Wuxiu released the gun barrel, took two steps back, and knelt on one knee. It wasn't because he was admitting defeat, but because he had lost too much blood and his legs were weak.

He knelt on the ring, head bowed, watching his blood drip onto the alloy floor, gleaming a dark red under the lights.

"I give up," he said.

The stands were completely silent.

The training ground, which held two thousand people, was so quiet that you could hear the sound of Shen Wuxiu's blood dripping. Drip, drip, drip.

The referee hesitated for a long time before raising his hand: "Sun Fan wins!"

Sun Fan didn't move. He stood there, the gun still embedded in his left shoulder, blood gushing out, but he didn't pull it out. Not that he didn't want to, but that he couldn't. His internal energy was exhausted; the heavy mass of internal energy in his dantian was completely empty, and the warm current in his chest had also disappeared, leaving only a cold, hollow void.

Only the bloodshot in his eyes was so thick it looked like it was about to drip out.

He lowered his head, looking at his right hand. His hand, gripping the sword, was still trembling, his knuckles white, and the scar on his thumb had split open, blood trickling down the hilt and dripping onto the arena.

He tried to sheath the sword, but his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't manage it on his second attempt. On the third try, he finally succeeded. The moment the sword was sheathed, his knees buckled, and he fell forward.

"Squad leader—" Dong Dahai's voice came from the stands, growing clearer and clearer as it approached.

A rough, calloused hand supported him.

Dong Dahai's face appeared before him; his scarred face looked particularly ferocious under the light, but his eyes were red.

"Squad leader, your shoulders..."

"It's nothing," Sun Fan said softly, as light as the wind. "I'm just a little tired."

He tried to smile, but the moment his lips curved into a slight smile, everything went black.

Feng Congyun was the first to rush onto the stage.

He was faster than Dong Dahai, faster than everyone else. The moment Sun Fan fell, he had disappeared from the stands and appeared beside Sun Fan the next second, one hand supporting his back and the other on the wound on his left shoulder.

"Don't pull it out." Feng Congyun's voice was deep, unlike his usual self. "The gun is blocking the wound; pulling it out will cause massive bleeding."

Dong Dahai stood to the side, at a loss, looking at the long, black, shiny spear on Sun Fan's left shoulder, the tip still stuck in the bone, blood gushing from the wound, staining the white training clothes dark red.

"Teacher Feng, he—"

'

"He won't die," Feng Congyun interrupted him, "but his competition ends here."

He looked up at the referee standing by the ring.

"Sun Fan has forfeited. He will not play in the remaining matches."

The referee paused for a moment, then nodded, picked up the microphone, and announced: "Sun Fan has forfeited due to injury and withdrawn from this year's year-end competition."

A huge uproar erupted in the stands. Some lamented, some rejoiced, and some cursed Shen Wuxiu for being too ruthless. But most people simply watched silently as Feng Congyun supported the young man on the stage.

A gun was lodged in his left shoulder, blood was pooling on the ground, and his face was as white as paper, but his eyes were still open. He looked at the lamp above him; the light from the luminous pearl was so bright it hurt his eyes. He tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes, but he couldn't.

"Teacher Feng." His voice was very soft.

"Um.

"6

"Did I act impulsively again?"

Feng Congyun was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes."

Sun Fan smiled. It was a very soft smile, like a breath squeezed out of his throat.

"But I didn't lose."

"You didn't lose." Feng Congyun helped him up from the ground and let him lean on his shoulder. "You won. You won fair and square."

Sun Fan closed his eyes and said nothing more.

His consciousness was slowly fading, as if he were sinking into a warm, dark deep sea. A cacophony of sounds filled his ears—

Some people were shouting, some were running, and some were calling for an ambulance. But those sounds grew farther and farther away, fainter and fainter, until they disappeared completely.