Chapter Twelve: Joining the Martial Arts Academy

The young man narrowed his eyes, his tone tinged with curiosity. "Is someone interfering on purpose, or is it just a coincidence?" Then he shook his head and asked, "What about your two subordinates—how strong were they? And the killer?"

Yusha Tiger quickly replied, "Both had mastered genuine martial arts, but their foundations were weak. One was at the first stage, the other at the peak of the second. The killer favored fist techniques; the knife wounds were merely a cover. According to the coroner’s examination, judging by the angle and marks of their injuries, the killer should be about one meter seventy tall, though it’s possible they deliberately misled us and concealed their true strength..."

The young man frowned and shook his head at this. "If their strength was truly hidden, there wouldn’t be any traces left. Martial artists at the second or third stage would never dare get involved in matters related to Yuan Kuanglin. So it’s more likely just a coincidence... The only question is whether Yuan Kuanglin really left something behind and if it was taken by this person..."

Such a possibility was not out of the question.

"But it doesn’t matter. Yuan Kuanglin failed to break through to the seventh stage of martial arts, so he couldn't have obtained the true legacy of the Demonic Sect."

Judging from his tone, he didn’t think much of Yuan Kuanglin’s strength, nor was he particularly concerned about anything Yuan Kuanglin might have left behind.

Yusha Tiger said helplessly, "My men are all over the west outskirts of the county. For this person to disappear so quickly, either they're exceptionally powerful and fled early, or they're still hiding somewhere in the west outskirts—maybe they're even a local! I’ve already ordered a search and screening of suspects, in case—"

The masked youth nodded slightly, cutting him off. "In that case, take your time. Contact me if you find anything. I’ve stayed in Feiling County long enough. I’ll take Yuan Kuanglin’s corpse with me for now."

Clearly, he cared little for whether Yuan Kuanglin had any treasures on his person, nor did it matter if someone lucky had gotten their hands on something he left behind.

His sole purpose this time was Yuan Kuanglin’s body.

Yusha Tiger watched the masked youth leave, wanting to speak but ultimately saying nothing.

...

Time passed.

Several days went by.

The deaths of Pi Liu and the others were never mentioned; not even a whisper reached the public. In fact, it was even quieter than the death of Wang Gang that day.

Chen Fan understood that the Black Tiger Gang must be deliberately suppressing the news.

Yuan Kuanglin’s dying words seemed to hint at something important, and he was clearly no ordinary person.

Over the past few days, Chen Fan noticed the Black Tiger Gang’s members were moving about more frequently, still searching for someone.

He assumed it was related to Yuan Kuanglin.

What he didn’t realize was that the person the Black Tiger Gang was searching for was none other than himself—Chen Fan.

Yet the gang had underestimated the killer’s capabilities.

They never imagined the killer could be Chen Fan, a boy barely thirteen or fourteen years old.

Chen Fan’s daily routine—leaving early for work and returning late—was perfectly normal. His records and everything else showed no time for martial arts training, so he was immediately ruled out as a suspect.

His idle cultivation talent meant he never needed to train arduously.

No one could have guessed that while he worked by day and slept by night, he was still able to become a skilled martial artist.

Instead, it was the low-level martial artists living in the west outskirts who suffered. Many were forcibly taken by the Black Tiger Gang to assist in their investigation...

Each night, Chen Fan placed the ring he’d acquired under the moonlight, hoping to absorb its radiance, but nothing ever happened.

In the blink of an eye, a month had passed.

Over that month, the Black Tiger Gang had wasted enormous manpower and resources, even drawing complaints from several neighboring families and martial halls.

Their search naturally ceased.

Yusha Tiger had no choice but to give up.

Feiling County, though small, had a population of a million. Searching for one person under the wrong conditions was never going to be easy.

Besides, no one knew if Yuan Kuanglin had truly left behind any treasures.

Of course, Chen Fan was oblivious to all this; he didn’t know that his seemingly clever act—killing those two—had already marked him as unusual in someone’s eyes.

He simply left things alone because his manuals were still cultivating themselves.

By now, Chen Fan had mastered three more martial arts manuals and the sixth form of the Fierce Tiger Fist.

Altogether, he had seven force-building techniques at his command.

His strength had grown once again.

The three manuals he was currently cultivating would be mastered in a few days.

Unfortunately, the pace of his progress was slowing; the later manuals were far less effective than the Fierce Tiger Fist.

"I can’t get any new manuals from the Flying Tiger Sect anymore. If I want to keep getting stronger, joining a martial hall is my only option..."

Martial halls held a special place in this world, closely intertwined with powerful families and even gangs.

Chen Fan promptly resigned from his clerical job at the Great Commerce Firm.

He didn’t tell his sister-in-law or the others.

Taking the silver he’d found on Yuan Kuanglin, he returned to the White Cloud Martial Hall.

From Yuan Kuanglin’s body, Chen Fan had retrieved an ingot of silver and a handful of silver fragments.

The ingot was minted by the Great Qian government, worth fifty taels of silver.

For Chen Fan, this was the equivalent of saving every coin for nearly two years without spending anything.

Even in the county, it was a lifetime’s savings for an ordinary family.

Yet Yuan Kuanglin had carried it with him during his escape as if it meant nothing.

Together with the silver fragments, the total value was seventy or eighty taels, solving his financial woes at once.

It strengthened Chen Fan’s resolve to pursue the martial path.

After all, as his skills improved, money would naturally follow.

If he was going to learn, he wanted to learn from the best.

He was no longer a complete novice; he had come to understand the strengths of Feiling County’s martial halls.

Though White Cloud Martial Hall had only opened a few years ago and lacked the deep roots of its rivals, its tuition was the highest, its students the most numerous—one could easily guess at its prowess.

The impression left by Li Linliu still lingered in Chen Fan’s heart, fueling his aspirations.

Even now, with four force-building manuals fully mastered and able to sense his internal energy with ease, Chen Fan still couldn’t fathom the strength required to topple a galloping horse with a single light palm. He wondered what stage of martial arts could achieve such a feat.

...

The receptionist at White Cloud Martial Hall was not surprised by the dozens of taels Chen Fan offered.

Though poor students were rare at White Cloud, it was not unheard of for someone to bring their entire family’s savings in pursuit of an uncertain future.

Such people had always existed.

After enrolling, Chen Fan received a vest marking him as a new disciple, then was led by a sweet-faced young woman to the training grounds.

Newly enrolled disciples were the most basic, peripheral members, allowed only to wear vests.

The youths in matching uniforms were the true core disciples of White Cloud Martial Hall; their numbers were few, and they were nearly all eighteen or nineteen years old.

The training ground Chen Fan entered was reserved for peripheral disciples to practice foundational exercises.

The vast hall was filled with disciples clad in vests.

"The newly opened fist classes are White Crane, taught by Master Bai Linjiu, and Black Cloud, under Master Feng Cong. Chen Fan, which class would you like to join?"