Exchange

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound was unhurried, polite even.

But at this hour, any visit was out of the ordinary. This hardly seemed like a time for a courteous call.

Baal gloated, “Ooh, room inspection? An Changqing or Long Ao? Take a guess.”

Chen Guan tucked the token back into his storage ring, stood up, and walked to the door. He didn’t play guessing games.

The person standing outside caught him off guard.

The sly Baal had offered “An Changqing or Long Ao” with an “or.”

It was Liu Feiyu.

Today he wore a simple black casual outfit, no flashy accessories, looking like a model student.

The usual mischievous glint was gone from his face. His eyes were calm, fixed steadily on Chen Guan.

“Something I can help you with?” Chen Guan spoke first.

Liu Feiyu didn’t get a chance to answer before two figures closed in rapidly from opposite ends of the corridor.

“What are you doing here?”

Long Ao planted himself directly in front of Chen Guan, his tall frame blocking Liu Feiyu from view. He crossed his arms and glared at the newcomer.

An Changqing moved to Chen Guan’s side. He said nothing, just quietly watched Liu Feiyu, but the wariness in his stance was unmistakable.

The atmosphere in the dorm hallway tightened instantly.

Liu Feiyu didn’t even glance at Long Ao or An Changqing. His eyes stayed locked on Chen Guan.

“I’m not here for you two,” Liu Feiyu said, his voice flat.

He looked at Chen Guan and got straight to the point: “My eldest brother, Liu Chengjun, should have already sent someone to contact you.”

“Whatever he promised you, I can double it.”

Baal whistled in Chen Guan’s mind: “Whoa, here comes the big one. Straight into the domineering CEO bidding war.”

Long Ao frowned. “Liu Feiyu, what the hell are you rambling about?”

An Changqing’s expression darkened. He stepped forward. “Liu Feiyu, if you’re here to stir trouble, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Chen Guan stared at Liu Feiyu, his expression unchanged.

“I haven’t received any contact.”

That statement caused a flicker of disturbance in Liu Feiyu’s otherwise composed eyes.

He paused for a moment, then seemed to understand something. A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth—a smirk aimed at his brother.

So his eldest brother didn’t yet know the Azure Dragon Token had fallen into Chen Guan’s hands.

Information gap. That was an opportunity.

“I see.” Liu Feiyu’s tone softened slightly, shifting tactics. “Then maybe I got that wrong.”

He paused, leaned in, and lowered his voice, keeping it just loud enough for the few of them to hear.

“However, Chen Guan, regarding that matter you asked me to look into before—I’ve found the answers.”

Chen Guan’s eyes flickered. He knew exactly what Liu Feiyu was referring to.

The eastern nameless island. And the Endless Sand Sea.

The nameless island was a private territory under the Liu family’s name. Getting inside information on it wouldn’t be hard for him.

Liu Feiyu caught the subtle shift in his expression and knew the bait had taken effect.

He regained his composure, aware that today wasn’t the right time to push further. “If you want the details, meet me on the rooftop tomorrow at noon.”

He glanced at An Changqing and Long Ao beside him, then added,

“I want to talk to you alone.”

With that, he didn’t wait for Chen Guan’s response. He turned sharply and walked toward the stairwell.

Footsteps faded down the quiet corridor until they disappeared entirely.

At the doorway remained only Chen Guan, An Changqing, and Long Ao.

A trace of tension still hung in the air.

Long Ao stared at the direction Liu Feiyu had gone, his face full of wariness and irritation. “That guy’s always talking in riddles. What trick is he trying to pull now?”

An Changqing stayed silent. Instead, he turned to look at Chen Guan, worry etched across his brow.

“What he mentioned just now… what is it?”

Chen Guan looked at An Changqing and Long Ao, his tone calm.

“There’s something I need to ask him about.”

Long Ao’s brow furrowed deeper.

“That guy’s full of lies. What could you possibly get out of him?”

An Changqing’s gaze lingered on Chen Guan’s face. He didn’t pry into what it was, only said softly, “Don’t go. He’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Chen Guan said with a hint of helplessness. “But what he mentioned—I have to confirm it.”

The matter he referred to, of course, was the nameless island and the Endless Sand Sea that Liu Feiyu had investigated.

An Changqing fell silent. He knew Chen Guan well enough—once he made a decision, it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it.

“Then be careful.”

In the end, that was all he said.

After all, the meeting place was still on campus. In this starter zone, Chen Guan was practically untouchable—unless some faculty member wanted to lose their teaching license.

“Contact us anytime if something comes up.”

Long Ao added, his expression still sour, but the concern was obvious.

Chen Guan nodded and turned to leave the dormitory.

He didn’t acknowledge the two pairs of worried eyes behind him, nor did he pay attention to the figure clutching an axe lurking in the corner outside the dorm building.

The next day at noon, Chen Guan arrived at the teaching building’s rooftop on time.

The wind up there was fierce, making clothes whip and snap.

Liu Feiyu was already waiting, his back to the entrance, gazing out at Lake Huasing in the distance.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around.

Today he looked the same as yesterday—no extra accessories, and those eyes that usually carried a playful arrogance were now a sheet of still water.

This was a far cry from the brash, ostentatious Third Young Master of the Liu Family.

“You came,” Liu Feiyu said.

“I came,” Chen Guan replied, walking up beside him and following his gaze into the distance.

“Now, tell me what you found.”

Liu Feiyu didn’t answer directly, instead posing a question.

“Chen Guan, do you know what the nameless island really is?”

“The Liu family’s private island.”

“Right. But that’s not the whole picture.”

“On the surface, it’s a private vacation spot. Underneath, it’s a dumping ground for cleaning up historical loose ends.”

Liu Feiyu shifted the conversation, turning his head to shoot a piercing look at Chen Guan.

“My eldest brother, Liu Chengjun—that man who appears so refined and perfect to outsiders—is actually a cold-blooded madman.”

He said it without a trace of emotion. Clearly, these were words he’d been holding in for a long time.

“To secure the inheritance, to get his hands on that incomplete Azure Dragon Token, he’s long wanted every inconvenient younger brother out of the picture.”

“My second brother, Liu Xiao, is a case in point. A few years back, our eldest brother hired the assassin Huiyun to take him out overseas. If not for sheer luck, my second brother’s grave would be due for a seasonal trim by now.”

Baal clicked his tongue from within the spiritual space: “Family drama among the rich—always so raw and bloody. Humans are terrifying.”

Liu Feiyu let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I play the part of a clueless fool at the academy, just to make him lower his guard, to make him think I’m no threat. That’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

Chen Guan listened quietly through all of this before finally speaking.