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

No matter how much discussion there is about him, Sun Fan remains as reclusive as ever.

Every day, besides practicing martial arts, there is nothing else but practicing martial arts.

It seems that only in this way can one stop thinking about certain things and avoid having certain dreams.

Most of the class affairs were handled by Dong Dahai.

He did a good job, and he was fair.

It was so fair that even students from other classes were envious.

So much so that even now, kids half a year older than him call him "Brother Dahai" when they meet; they admire him.

Even in a dark martial arts academy, upright people should be admired.

The nickname "Scarface" is no longer used.

Time slipped away slowly day after day, and before we knew it, the semester was coming to an end.

That day, Sun Fan went to his premium course on generating power, just like he always did.

As his understanding of the power of force deepened, he became increasingly aware of the old man's extraordinary nature.

At least in the realm of exerting power, his understanding is extremely high.

He had previously met some masters who specialized in a certain realm on martial arts forums.

Such people may have average overall strength, but at a certain level, they may have a flash of inspiration or have had an epiphany. In short, their level of development is far superior to that of ordinary people. They may seem unremarkable now.

But when they were at the peak of their power, they were the undisputed kings.

The old man is probably that kind of person.

Therefore, Sun Fan never missed a single one of the old man's classes.

But today seems different from usual.

As soon as he entered the classroom, Sun Fan frowned.

He smelled alcohol.

There's a smell of alcohol that shouldn't be here.

The old man's class had very strict rules.

No pills or water are allowed. If you are late, don't come in.

In his words, if you're going to class, you should act like you're in class.

Practicing martial arts requires sincerity.

He could not allow anyone to drink openly in his class.

Even in the dark martial arts academy, few people dare to challenge the teachers' classroom rules.

Clearly, Sun Fan wasn't the only one who smelled the alcohol.

"Which idiot is drinking in the classroom? Don't they know Teacher Mo's rules?"

"Are you going to get up and get out of here yourself, or should I throw you out?"

A muscular man was the first to stand up.

Sun Fan was quite familiar with this big man. He was one of the few people who, like Sun Fan, attended every single premium class.

He seemed to be a student leader in the second year; he always had a lot of questions in class.

However, he wasn't very quick to understand and was rather simple-minded. Every time the old man finished explaining something to him, his square face would often still look blank.

However, he was very hardworking and had a very respectful attitude towards his teachers.

The old man usually took good care of him and tried his best to answer his questions.

Therefore, he was very grateful. Most teachers were impatient with his attitude, and there weren't many teachers who treated him like the old man. He was sure he wouldn't let anyone else break the old man's classroom rules.

The burly man was still surveying the surroundings.

Sun Fan, however, had already followed the smell of alcohol to the source.

It's not that he has a particularly keen sense of smell.

However, if you drink with two alcoholics for twenty years, you will naturally learn this skill as well.

The skill of being able to locate drunkards by their nose.

A middle-aged man, looking somewhat disheveled with long, unkempt hair that obscured half his face, slowly stood up under the burly man's scrutiny.

He walked slowly and leisurely toward the classroom door.

This made the burly man, who was about to get angry, hold back his temper. Seeing that the man had self-awareness, he didn't want to cause trouble for no reason.

When he walked out of the classroom, everyone thought the little incident was over.

He knocked on the door, then turned and came in.

"Old Mo has something to do today, so he asked me to substitute for you."

Everyone was stunned.

Especially that big man.

Coming to his senses, he immediately asked anxiously, "Teacher Mo, what's wrong? Is there something wrong with your health? Or...?"

The middle-aged drunkard glanced at him, his hand instinctively reaching behind his waist, but after groping around for a while, he found nothing.

He smacked his lips with a hint of regret.

Sun Fan, sitting in the audience, smiled.

He had witnessed a similar scene countless times on countless mornings.

He tossed a small bottle he was carrying with him.

This was a habit he developed after leaving the secret realm.

In his daily practice of martial arts, he rarely drinks alcohol in order to restrain himself.

Only when the night is deep and quiet, when those thoughts surge up and keep him awake, will he take a sip to help himself drift off to sleep.

Over the past twenty years, his alcohol tolerance has become extraordinary.

Therefore, the liquor in the pot is very strong!

It was a secret recipe he had specially collected.

The middle-aged drunkard sniffed the bottle.

My eyes lit up!

He tilted his head back and drank it.

Sun Fan was taken aback. Normally, he would only have a couple of sips of alcohol before he was slightly drunk and could fall asleep peacefully.

The bottle was newly replaced today, and it's almost full. If you just keep pouring, you'll probably finish more than half of it.

After finishing his drink, the middle-aged alcoholic seemed to have gotten a little interested.

He said to the burly man, "Old Mo is fine, he just has some things to take care of."

"You can ask me the same question!"

The big man breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that Old Man Mo was alright.

Then he looked at the middle-aged drunkard with some suspicion.

Anyone would be suspicious of this behavior.

The middle-aged drunkard tilted his head back, finished the last gulp, smacked his lips with a hint of lingering satisfaction, shook the empty bottle, and looked at Sun Fan.

"That's it?"

Sun Fan nodded.

"This bottle is too small," the drunkard said, tossing the empty bottle back. "Get a bigger one next time."

Sun Fan caught the bottle without saying a word.

The burly man below the stage remained standing, unsure whether to advance or retreat, his square face flushed red. After a long pause, he finally managed to stammer, "Then... what is your surname, teacher?"

The drunkard glanced at him and said, "His surname is Feng."

"Teacher Feng." The big man bowed respectfully. "I was blind and offended you just now. Please don't take it to heart."

Is your surname Feng?

Sun Fan's brows twitched slightly.

He had never heard of this name before, nor had anyone around him.

The drunkard—Feng Congyun—seemed to hear nothing, slowly walked to the podium, and plopped down on the table. His legs dangled in the air, the soles of his worn-out cloth shoes worn white.

"Old Mo taught the course on generating power for three months," he began, his voice languid. "What did he teach?"

No one in the audience said a word.

"I'll explain how to generate power, how to direct the force, and how to find the patterns," Feng Congyun continued, speaking to himself. "You've all listened, you've all practiced, but how many of you truly understand?"

"Some things can't be understood just by listening. You have to practice until you can completely understand and comprehend what he says. Then you'll have mastered the power generation stage."

His gaze swept across the audience, finally settling on the square-faced, burly man.

"you."

The burly man jumped: "Here!"

"What's your name?"

"Teacher, my name is Tietou."