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

Chapter 136 Holiday

"Feng Congyun has made his move. He got his hands on Sun Fan's phone. He has Yan Gaotian's screenshots. He'll be going to see Lu Chen. I need time."

The message has been sent.

Chen Mo placed his phone face down on the table, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. The light from the table lamp shone on his face, and finally, an expression that didn't belong to the "principal's assistant" appeared on his clean-cut face.

It wasn't fear, it wasn't anger, it was exhaustion. A kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones, an exhaustion that couldn't be hidden no matter what.

He remembered the day five years ago when Lu Chen brought him out of that place.

It was raining that day too. He stood under Lu Chen's umbrella, soaked to the bone, like a stray cat drenched in the rain. Lu Chen looked at him and said, "Come with me. From now on, your name is Chen Mo."

He followed Lu Chen. They left for five years, so far. He thought he could finally stop hiding, stop concealing himself, stop having to be at the mercy of anyone.

But today, Feng Congyun's words made him realize something.

He's still hiding. Still concealing himself. Still watching how others feel.

It's just a different person.

Chen Mo opened his eyes, picked up the pen on the table, and wrote two more words in his notebook.

The wind follows the clouds.

The stroke was heavier than before, tearing the paper and spreading the ink like a black flower. He stared at the two characters for a while, then turned the page and wrote a new name on the blank page.

The land sank.

This time he didn't use force; the pen tip lightly grazed the paper, as if he were depicting something fragile.

Lu Chen. The principal of the Dark Martial Academy, a peak sixth-realm expert, and the sole ruler of the Dark Martial Academy for the past twenty years. He doesn't trust many people, and Chen Mo is one of them.

If Feng Congyun really hands those materials over to Lu Chen, what will Lu Chen think? Will he investigate? Will the investigation lead back to him? Will he trust him, or will he trust an old swordsman who has followed him for over twenty years?

Chen Mo didn't know. But he did know one thing—Feng Congyun was right. Lu Chen was very suspicious.

He put down his pen, picked up his phone, and glanced again at the message he had already sent. The words on the screen gleamed a cold white in the darkness, like a knife hanging over his head.

He pressed the power button, and the screen went black.

The office went completely dark. Only the dim yellow light from the desk lamp illuminated the empty wine jug on the desk, the cold cup of tea, the notebook covered with names, and the person sitting at the edge of the halo, whose expression was indistinct.

Outside the window, the darkness of the martial arts school was still very deep.

The year-end competition concluded amidst a mix of clamor and silence.

As expected, the final champion was the queen of pop.

Of course, this is because the person outside the circle never participates in such martial arts competitions.

But everyone knows that the real protagonist of this competition is not the champion, but a first-year student with a bandage wrapped around his left shoulder who watched the entire final in the infirmary.

Sun Fan.

This name grew wildly like weeds on the campus of the Dark Martial Arts Academy, reaching everyone's ears, the gossip in the cafeteria, and the whispers on the training ground.

Some say he is the strongest swordsman in the history of the Dark Martial Arts Academy and will make history.

Some say he was just a flash in the pan, while others say that his sword strike was bought with his life force and that he would be crippled in a few years.

There were all sorts of opinions, but no matter what they said, when this name was mentioned, everyone spoke with the same sense of awe.

It's not about respecting skill, but about respecting that fearless spirit. Anyone who dares to lock a gun in place with their body, dares to charge forward into the edge of a blade, and dares to fight to the death in the ring, regardless of their age, deserves respect.

Three days after the competition ended, Dark Martial Arts School began a holiday.

It's called a holiday, but it's actually only seven days long.

Grades 10 and 11 students can leave school, go home, and go wherever they want. Grade 12 students cannot.

They faced the test of advancing to the university level of the Dark Martial Arts Academy. These seven days were the final sprint, and no one dared to slack off.

On the training field, the senior high school students trained even harder than usual. Some meditated for twelve hours a day, some challenged five opponents in a row without rest, and some locked themselves in the training room, practicing all they did except eat and sleep. They all knew that the university entrance exam was no easier than the year-end competition—it was even more brutal. If they lost the year-end competition, they could try again next year. But if they lost the university entrance exam, they would be forever barred from attending the Dark Martial Arts Academy's university level.

Of the five tigers, Blood Tiger, Mad Tiger, Smiling Tiger, and Sick Tiger, none of them left the school during those seven days.

They agreed to spar for four hours every day at the training ground, with whoever couldn't take it anymore treating everyone to dinner. However, none of them gave up first; they all coughed up blood while shouting "Let's do it again!" before being dragged back by their respective instructors to recover.

Luo Lie, the Sword King, and Shi Jingtian, the Boxing King, two of the Four Kings, also stayed at the school. Luo Lie locked himself in the training room and practiced his sword against the Iron Man Pole for three days and three nights, until his tiger's mouth split open and he could no longer hold the sword, before he stopped.

Shi Jingtian was even funnier. He erected a wooden stake in the training field, wrote the three characters "Shen Wuxiu" on it, and then spent two whole days driving the stake into wood chips. After that, he clapped his hands, said "That feels good," and turned to go to the cafeteria for a meal.

Leg King Chen Jiu wasn't training, but he didn't leave either. He lay on the stands of the training field, legs crossed, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth, staring blankly at the clouds. Someone asked him why he wasn't leaving, and he said, "I'm waiting for someone. I'll leave after he leaves." When asked who he was waiting for, he didn't say, just smiled and continued watching the clouds.

Gun King Shen Wuxiu lay in his hospital room, unable to go anywhere. His chest had been slashed open by Sun Fan's sword, requiring over twenty stitches, making even turning over in bed difficult. But his deputy said that Shen Wuxiu had been smiling inexplicably for the past few days, as if he had figured out something extraordinary.

Empress Chao Qingwu didn't leave. She went to the training ground every day, not to practice, but to watch. She watched the senior students work hard, the juniors slack off, and the freshmen clumsily imitate the older students' moves. She wore a baseball cap, the brim pulled low, covering most of her face, but it couldn't hide the aura that emanated from her very being, an aura that made people afraid to look directly at her.

Luo Qingshan sat beside her, holding a folding fan and fanning himself idly. His palm was still wrapped in bandages, a wound left by Sun Fan's sword; it wasn't serious, but it hadn't fully healed.

"Queen," Luo Qingshan suddenly spoke up, "where do you think Sun Fan will go on his vacation?"

Chao Qingwu didn't answer immediately. She looked at a first-year student practicing swordsmanship on the training ground. The child's swordsmanship was as clumsy as a toddler learning to walk, each step was crooked and awkward, but his eyes were very serious, so serious that it was hard to bear to laugh at him.

"Go home," she said.

Luo Qingshan was taken aback: "Go home?"