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

It was no longer the swift swordplay of before; it had slowed down. Slow enough that everyone could clearly see the trajectory of the sword tip, slow enough that Zhao Cheng had ample time to react.

But Zhao Cheng did not move.

He waited.

He wanted to see what other tricks this so-called fast swordsman Sun Fan could pull off.

The sword tip pierced Zhao Cheng's chest.

This time, there was no metallic clanging sound.

The sword tip stopped half an inch away from Zhao Cheng's skin.

Then, Sun Fan's sword trembled slightly.

There was a jolt.

Zhao Cheng's expression changed.

He felt a strange force emanating from the tip of the sword; it wasn't a thrust or a slash, but rather an indescribable fluctuation. That fluctuation seeped into his skin, following the muscle fibers, and reached the tendon that had been most taut when he exerted force.

Then--

Snapped.

It's like a broken string.

Zhao Cheng's chest muscles suddenly relaxed, and the tension that had been there all along dissipated.

The tip of the sword slid in smoothly.

Pierce the skin.

Piercing into the muscle.

It pierced in half an inch.

Blood seeped out and trickled down the sword.

Zhao Cheng was stunned.

He looked down at the sword in his chest, at his own blood, his face filled with disbelief.

"What...what did you do?"

Sun Fan did not sheath his sword, but calmly looked at him: "When you exert force, the power originates from your feet, passes through your waist, rotates over your shoulder, and is delivered to your fist. There are patterns along this path."

He paused, then said, "I found it."

Zhao Cheng's pupils contracted sharply.

He recalled the feeling when he threw the punch—the force rose from the soles of his feet, surged upwards, and when it reached his chest, it was suddenly intercepted by something.

At the time, he thought it was his imagination.

It turned out not to be.

Sun Fan sheathed his sword.

The sword tip left Zhao Cheng's chest, leaving a trail of blood.

Zhao Cheng clutched his wound, staggered back two steps, looked up at Sun Fan, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

He lost.

The loss was completely inexplicable.

The audience was deathly silent.

Everyone watched this scene, watching the sword-wielding youth standing on the platform, watching the blood still dripping from the tip of his sword.

Lian Youyou clenched her fists tightly.

She saw Sun Fan's final sword strike clearly.

It's not fast.

It is accurate.

It's that precise grasp of the texture of force application, that terrifying intuition to find flaws in the blink of an eye.

She suddenly remembered the diva's words—

"If he were in perfect condition, there wouldn't be a trace of it."

It turns out that the Empress was not referring to the speed of his sword.

It's his ability... that makes him impossible to defend against.

Zhao Cheng clutched his chest and remained silent for a long time.

Then he let go, knelt on one knee, and lowered his head.

"I lost."

Three words, difficult to say, but accepted.

The technique of external force training emphasizes releasing energy, but before he could release his energy, he was interrupted.

Sun Fan looked at him and suddenly asked, "Who sent you?"

Zhao Cheng's body stiffened.

"A ferocious tiger?" Sun Fan asked again.

Zhao Cheng did not answer.

But silence is the answer.

Sun Fan nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave the stage.

"Wait a moment."

Zhao Cheng called out to him.

Sun Fan turned around.

Zhao Cheng raised his head, looked at him, and there was something indescribable in his eyes: "You're not going to cripple me?"

If he were in Sun Fan's shoes, he would definitely cripple him.

Such geniuses should always be nipped in the bud.

Sun Fan glanced at him: "What grudge do you have against me?"

Zhao Cheng shook his head

"That settles it then."

After Sun Fan finished speaking, he continued walking off the stage.

Zhao Cheng stood there, stunned, watching his back, his expression changing several times.

Finally, he gave a heavy fist bump.

He wrote it down.

A deafening roar erupted from the audience.

"Holy crap, Sun Fan won?!"

"He really broke through Zhao City's defenses?!"

"What happened with that sword strike? How did it suddenly break?"

Only the few third-year students in the stands had serious expressions.

The tiger's face was so dark it looked like it was about to drip water.

Ah Liang, who was standing next to him, didn't dare to breathe too loudly.

Empress Chao Qingwu opened her eyes, and a hint of amusement appeared in her gaze as she looked at Sun Fan.

"Interesting," she said softly. "Last time in the monthly exam, you weren't even putting in your full effort, and you've already mastered this level of skill so quickly."

"Everyone says Zhao Cheng has the deepest foundation in the Body Tempering Realm, huh? Heh, it seems that's not necessarily true."

Lian Youyou stood still, motionless.

Next, it was her turn to go on stage.

—As the previous champion, she is qualified to launch a revenge challenge.

But at this moment, she suddenly became unsure whether she still needed to stand in front of that person.

The commotion gradually subsided.

All eyes were on Lian Youyou.

The rules are clear to everyone.

The previous champion has the right to launch a revenge challenge after the current champion is crowned. This is a rule set up by the Dark Martial Arts Academy to maintain competitive pressure—once you sit in that position, you must be prepared to be pulled down at any time.

Lian Youyou took a deep breath and stepped towards the arena.

She admitted that she couldn't see through the other person's sword.

That swordsmanship was far beyond her understanding of swordsmanship.

In terms of techniques, that's almost the end.

Even the most powerful moves couldn't exert such pressure.

But she still wanted to give it a try.

A martial artist who loses the courage to take on challenges is basically finished.

She walked toward the ring.

Her steps were steady.

But only she knew that every step she took felt like walking on a knife's edge.

The Empress's words, Zhao Cheng's defeat, Sun Fan's final sword strike... all flashed through her mind.

She recalled her first impression of Sun Fan—a lucky guy, an ordinary person who rose to prominence through a stroke of luck.

She doesn't think that way anymore.

That wasn't luck at all.

It was something...that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Lian Youyou?"

Sun Fan's voice interrupted her thoughts.

She looked up at the person standing on the stage.

His eyes were calm, without pride, mockery, or tension.

Just like that thrilling duel, it was just another ordinary day for him.

"You want to challenge me?" Sun Fan asked.

Lian Youyou opened her mouth, but that one word got stuck in her throat and she couldn't utter it.

In the end, she could only nod.

Whispers began to circulate among the audience.

Why isn't she saying anything?

"You're not going to chicken out, are you?"

"That's impossible. She's Lian Youyou, the champion of the last monthly exam."

Lian Youyou clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh.

She recalled what the Queen had said that day—when the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman benefits.

Now that the snipe and the clam have finished their fight, does she, the fisherman, really deserve to be called a fisherman?

There wasn't a single wound on that snipe.

What does she gain from this?

Lian Youyou closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

When she opened her eyes again, her expression had changed.

She raised her head, looked at Sun Fan, and said, word by word, "Please advise me."

Sun Fan raised an eyebrow.

He admired the other person's courage.

Even after witnessing his sword strike, he still had the courage to challenge himself.

It seems to be to strengthen one's own confidence.

Lian Youyou shouted loudly again, "The Path of Ruthlessness, Lian Youyou, please enlighten me!"