Let's Talk

He had another trump card. The attack range and destructive power of this trump card far exceeded any methods he currently possessed.

Moreover, at the final moment... was it Baal helping?

At this time, there was a knock on the dorm room door. Chen Guan paused his thoughts, went to open the door, and a figure walked in.

It was Long Ao.

The fighting spirit around him had vanished without a trace. He was soaked through, making it hard to tell if it was sweat or water from a shower.

He kept his head down, water dripping from his hair onto the floor with a pitter-patter sound. His whole being exuded an aura of defeat, as if his spine had been extracted.

He didn't look at Chen Guan. He walked straight to a chair and sat down heavily, letting out a muffled thud.

The air in the room grew heavy.

Chen Guan glanced at him.

The Long Ao who had been covered in wounds yet refused to retreat even at the cost of his life during the Jiangcheng incident was like a completely different person from this despondent figure before him.

An Changqing's Tier 5 advancement had become the last straw that crushed him.

Chen Guan didn't speak. Words of comfort were useless, and to someone like Long Ao, sympathy was an insult.

He pretended to rummage through his storage cabinet, and finally took out an inconspicuous small white medicine bottle from the system shop. It was a healing ointment he had exchanged for points, specifically for treating external injuries.

The wool comes from the sheep; he wouldn't be stingy about a few points. After all, he now had a six-figure popularity value. Chen Guan casually tossed the medicine bottle over.

Smack.

The bottle landed accurately on Long Ao's leg, bounced once, and was subconsciously caught firmly by Long Ao.

"Apply it to your hands."

Chen Guan's voice was very flat, without any emotional fluctuation.

Long Ao's body twitched. He slowly raised his head and looked at his hands.

Those fists were a bloody mess. The skin was extensively abraded, and the joints were swollen like steamed buns. Because they hadn't been treated for a long time, the wounds had been exposed to the air and had taken on a dark red color.

He looked at his hands, then at the medicine bottle beside his hand, and finally his gaze landed on Chen Guan.

Long Ao didn't pick up the bottle.

He stared at Chen Guan and spoke, asking the question that had been occupying his mind.

"You said his sword would break."

"What did you mean?"

He desperately needed an answer. This seemingly baseless statement was the last straw he clung to while drowning.

Chen Guan met his gaze and answered calmly.

"A foundation made of piled sand cannot support a tall building."

This was a metaphor, but also a fact. Baal's words verified this point; An Changqing had overdrawn his potential and damaged his foundation.

Of course, that was An Changqing. He would naturally stand back up again, but there was no need to say these things out loud.

Long Ao was stunned, chewing over this sentence repeatedly.

A foundation made of piled sand...

Was his foundation of the sword made of piled sand?

So, his dazzling Tier 5 was just a castle in the air?

A faint vibration interrupted his thoughts.

It was Chen Guan's phone.

The screen lit up, displaying a new message.

"Let's talk."

The sender clearly read: Liu Feiyu.

The cold light of the phone screen illuminated Chen Guan's face.

Liu Feiyu's name jumped on it, like a needle piercing his field of vision.

Chen Guan remained expressionless, his fingers moving on the screen.

Delete.

Block.

He completed all this in just a few seconds, his fingertips not even pausing for a moment.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, his mind unrippled.

A person like Liu Feiyu, no matter how harmless he pretended to be on the surface, had the word trouble carved into his bones. It was truly a case of a weasel paying respects to a hen—harboring ill intentions.

Chen Guan knew Liu Feiyu wasn't as innocent as he looked, but so what? What did that have to do with him?

He had his own things to do and no time to play some enemies-to-friends charade with him. The guy's affairs had nothing to do with him either; Chen Guan wasn't that kind-hearted.

If he had that kind of free time, he might as well farm some more popularity points.

Chen Guan ignored the revelry in the barrage and cast his gaze toward Long Ao opposite him.

Long Ao had taken the medicine bottle but hadn't used it immediately.

He just kept his head down, preventing Chen Guan from seeing his expression clearly.

The air in the room was heavy; only the water droplets dripping from his body made tiny smashing sounds on the floor.

"A foundation made of piled sand cannot support a tall building."

Chen Guan's words were like a wedge driven into Long Ao's chaotic mind.

He chewed over this sentence repeatedly, and the lump of depression blocking his chest actually showed signs of dissipating.

Yes, a foundation of piled sand...

Was An Changqing's dazzling Tier 5 really his own strength?

Or was it just an illusion exchanged for his future?

He gripped the bottle of ointment tightly, stood up, and walked toward the door without a word.

"Thanks."

The single word was squeezed out of his throat. He didn't look back as he pushed the door open and walked out.

...

Long Ao returned to his own dorm room.

An Changqing wasn't there; the room was empty.

Only moonlight spilled in through the window, a patch of clear radiance devoid of warmth.

He collapsed into a chair as if drained of all strength, staying awake the entire night.

In his mind were the life-and-death struggles in Jiangcheng, and An Changqing's piercing Tier 5 halo.

Finally, it froze on Chen Guan's plain words.

He slowly raised his bloody fists.

The wounds had already formed a thin layer of blood scabs, sticking together with the flesh.

Even the slightest movement brought piercing pain.

He looked at these hands, then at the white bottle of ointment on the table.

Eventually, he unscrewed the cap.

A cool, medicinal scent spread out.

He clumsily scooped out a dollop of ointment with his finger and smeared it haphazardly over the wounds on his knuckles.

Sizzle!

An intense stinging sensation instantly shot through his nerves.

Not only did this pain fail to make him flinch, but it also acted like a raging torrent, washing his muddled mind into complete clarity.

He gritted his teeth and pressed the ointment inch by inch into the wounds, as if using this agony to forcibly peel away the unwillingness and jealousy from his very flesh and blood.

Sweat slid down his forehead, but he didn't utter a single sound.

What he needed to shatter wasn't his cultivation.

It was that heart eager for quick success and blinded by vanity.

He wasn't inferior to anyone.

...

Early the next morning.

The sunlight gilded Huaqing Academy with a golden edge.

Inside the training hall, most students were still enjoying a rare morning sleep-in.

On the empty grounds, only a single figure was tirelessly repeating the most basic movements.

Bang!

Long Ao threw a straight punch.

He didn't use any superhuman abilities, relying solely on physical strength.

The wind from his fist tore through the air, producing a dull, explosive crack.