Liang Hao disappeared.
Not transferred.
Not suspended.
Not sent abroad.
He vanished.
For ordinary students, that was gossip. For people who understood the hidden world, it was a warning.
When someone lost face completely and still refused to kneel, there was only one path left.
Dirty hands.
I sensed it before it happened.
That night, as I walked back to the dorms, the city felt… wrong. Traffic noise dulled. Footsteps echoed too clearly. Even the air carried a faint metallic tension.
I slowed.
Three shadows detached from the alley ahead.
No shouting.
No threats.
No hesitation.
One step.
A steel rod screamed toward my head.
I twisted sideways, barely avoiding it. The rod shattered a streetlight behind me, sparks raining down.
Manifest Strength.
Two more moved at once.
This wasn't intimidation.
This was execution.
I exhaled slowly and let go.
Inner breath surged.
My body screamed as power flooded muscles still unprepared for it. Pain flared—but clarity followed.
The first attacker came in low. I stepped into his range and struck his throat with the edge of my palm.
Crack.
He collapsed without a sound.
The second swept toward my legs. I jumped back, heel smashing into his knee on landing.
Bone snapped.
The third hesitated.
That hesitation saved me.
I grabbed a broken piece of streetlight and hurled it—not at him, but past him.
Glass shattered.
Alarms triggered.
Sirens howled in the distance.
The man cursed and retreated instantly, disappearing into the darkness.
I leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
Blood dripped from my nose.
I wiped it away calmly.
So this was Liang Hao's final move.
—
By morning, the city was buzzing.
Attempted homicide.
Public infrastructure damage.
Surveillance footage recovered.
The police didn't hide it this time.
Someone wanted me dead.
I walked into the station voluntarily, injuries documented, statement precise.
No exaggeration. No emotion.
Just facts.
By noon, the case had been escalated beyond campus jurisdiction.
By evening—
Someone else arrived.
—
They didn't wear uniforms.
They didn't identify themselves loudly.
But when they entered the interrogation room, even the officers straightened.
The man placed a badge briefly on the table.
"National Special Oversight," he said. "We'll take it from here."
He looked at me carefully.
"You've been involved in three incidents in under a week," he continued. "Each involving people who shouldn't exist officially."
I met his gaze. "Then maybe the problem isn't me."
A corner of his mouth twitched.
"Maybe."
—
Outside the station, Su Qingxue waited.
She didn't ask if I was okay.
She already knew the answer.
"You crossed a line," she said quietly as we walked.
"So did they."
"You could've died."
"Yes," I replied. "That's why they failed."
She stopped walking.
For the first time, real emotion flickered in her eyes—not fear.
Anger.
"You're treating this like a case," she said. "But they're treating it like war."
I turned to her. "Then stay away."
She shook her head once. "No."
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, she spoke again.
"My family has records," she said. "About underground enforcement teams. Liang Hao contacted one."
That explained it.
Not a clan.
Mercenaries.
The ugliest tool of the martial world.
—
Two nights later, it happened again.
This time, no ambush.
An accident.
A truck lost control near campus.
Too perfect. Too precise.
I pushed a nearby student aside just as the vehicle smashed through the sidewalk.
The impact threw me into the air.
Pain exploded.
I hit the ground hard, vision blurring.
Someone screamed.
Then—
The world slowed.
A figure stepped between me and the truck.
Su Qingxue.
Her palm pressed against the metal.
The truck stopped.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Manifest Strength.
Her breath trembled as she looked down at me.
"Get up," she said sharply. "Now."
I didn't argue.
Sirens wailed again.
Witnesses everywhere.
The driver was gone.
Vanished.
—
That night, we stood on the roof of the law faculty building.
The city stretched beneath us, glittering and indifferent.
"They won't stop," Su Qingxue said. "Not now."
"No," I agreed. "But now they're exposed."
I pulled out my phone and sent a message.
One sentence.
"I accept arbitration."
She looked at me sharply. "You're stepping into their court."
"Yes," I replied. "Because it's time they step into mine."
—
The underground arbitration hall was full.
Clans. Observers. Lawyers.
And at the center—
Me.
Liang Hao wasn't there.
But his family was.
And so were the people who had tried to erase me.
I placed my documents on the table.
"This is not a complaint," I said calmly. "This is a reckoning."
The room fell silent.
Outside, authorities waited.
Inside, martial rules trembled.
And for the first time since my rebirth—
Both worlds realized the same thing.
Chen Mo was no longer a student caught between law and fists.
He was becoming the bridge.
And bridges, once crossed,
Could not be ignored.