Liang Hao finally came to class on the third day.
His face was calm, smile relaxed, posture casual,but the moment his eyes met mine, the calm cracked.
Just a little.
Enough.
People like him weren't used to resistance. They were used to obedience disguised as compromise.
I looked away first.
Not out of fear,but because prey that doesn't acknowledge the hunter is far more unsettling.
—
The lecture hadn't even begun when a message appeared on my phone.
Unknown Number:
You think you've won?
I typed slowly.
Chen Mo:
No. I think you've started losing.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Then nothing.
Good.
That meant emotion had overtaken calculation.
—
The ambush came that night.
Not on the street this time.
On paper.
A formal notice awaited me at the dormitory office—stamped, official, polite.
"Chen Mo, report to the municipal mediation center tomorrow at 10 a.m.
Subject: Civil dispute and defamation."
Liang family.
They had shifted battlefields.
I smiled faintly.
So they wanted to fight where I was strongest.
—
The mediation center was bright, sterile, and filled with the illusion of fairness.
Liang Hao sat across from me, flanked by two lawyers. His posture was relaxed now—confidence restored by numbers.
"You've damaged my reputation," he said smoothly. "Online. On campus."
His lawyer slid documents forward. Screenshots. Edited. Carefully framed.
"Withdraw your complaint," the lawyer continued, "issue a public apology, and we'll consider settling."
I didn't touch the papers.
Instead, I leaned back slightly. "Before we begin, I'd like to confirm something."
The mediator nodded. "Proceed."
"Is this mediation voluntary?"
"Yes."
"Good," I said calmly. "Then I decline."
Liang Hao's smile froze.
The mediator blinked. "Mr. Chen—"
"I'm filing a counterclaim," I continued. "False accusation, intimidation, and abuse of civil procedure."
I stood.
"And I'll be requesting a full hearing."
The lawyers exchanged glances.
Liang Hao's voice sharpened. "You think dragging this out helps you?"
"No," I replied. "Dragging this into daylight helps me."
I walked out.
—
That afternoon, my phone rang again.
A different number.
"This is Zhang Wei," a low voice said. "I represent a private client. He needs legal advice. Discreet."
"Location?" I asked.
"Underground arbitration hall."
I paused.
First paid case.
Already.
"I'll listen," I said.
—
The hall was smaller than the one from my past life, but the atmosphere was the same—controlled violence, wrapped in formality.
The client was a middle-aged man with trembling hands.
"My son signed a contract," he said. "A martial contract. They're forcing him to fight."
I read quickly.
Sloppy clauses. Illegal coercion. Threats disguised as consent.
Amateurs.
"This contract is void," I said. "They know it. That's why they're rushing."
Hope flickered in his eyes. "Can you stop it?"
"Yes," I replied. "But you'll make enemies."
He swallowed. "How much?"
I named a number.
He nodded immediately.
That night, I drafted a notice that hit three martial families at once—copying regulatory bodies, attaching evidence, invoking exposure protocols.
By morning, the fight was canceled.
By noon, my name circulated quietly.
A lawyer who understood martial rules.
Someone knocked on my dorm door that evening.
Su Qingxue stood outside.
Up close, her presence was sharper than I remembered—controlled, precise, dangerous.
"You declined mediation," she said without preamble.
"Yes."
"That was reckless."
"No," I replied. "That was final."
She studied me for a long moment. "You're forcing Liang Hao into a corner."
"That's where people show their true hand."
Silence stretched.
"Be careful," she said finally. "Desperation doesn't care about legality."
"I know," I replied. "That's why I prepared evidence."
Her lips curved slightly.
Not a smile.
Approval.
—
That night, cultivation went wrong.
Pain exploded through my chest as inner breath surged uncontrollably. Muscles screamed. Bones vibrated.
I bit down hard, forcing circulation to stabilize.
A misstep here could cripple me.
Minutes stretched like hours.
Then—
Stillness.
When I opened my eyes, the world felt clearer. Sharper.
Inner Breath: stable stage.
I exhaled slowly.
Outside, footsteps stopped.
A presence.
"Not bad," a voice said quietly.
I didn't open my eyes. "You're heavier than the Xu clan scout."
A soft laugh. "Good senses."
When I looked, an older man stood beneath the tree—calm, restrained, terrifying.
Hidden Realm.
My pulse remained steady.
"I'm not joining any clan," I said.
He nodded. "We know."
"Then why watch me?"
"Because," he replied, "Liang Hao contacted people he shouldn't have."
A chill passed through the air.
"You'll face something ugly soon," the man continued. "Not lawful. Not clean."
I met his gaze. "Then I'll survive it."
The old man smiled faintly.
"Good answer."
He vanished.
—
The next morning, campus erupted.
Liang Hao had been suspended.
Not for the assault.
For financial misconduct tied to a shell scholarship fund.
Evidence I had submitted anonymously.
As students whispered, phones buzzed.
Liang Hao's desperation had finally crossed a line.
And lines, once crossed.
Could not be erased.
I walked into class, calm as ever.
Su Qingxue watched me take my seat.
For the first time, she didn't look away.
She nodded.
A silent acknowledgment.
The board was no longer just set.
The first pieces had fallen.