Chapter 80: Seaside Martial Arts Institute

That night, at the Martial Arts Institute of Haidu, the statistician in charge of compiling reports furrowed his brow. The results of the afternoon’s challenge had already been submitted, but as he examined the numbers, he found himself at a loss.

“A martial artist at the peak of the Yellow Realm, and one who specializes in spell techniques, defeated in a single move by someone who isn’t even a martial artist? Is there some mistake here?” Doubtful, he picked up the phone. “Hello, is there an error in the data submitted today?”

“How could this person not be a martial artist?” He tapped his fingers nervously against the desk.

“It’s true,” replied the staff member at the scene, speaking quietly and cautiously. “According to the ID registration, there’s no record of this person in the national martial arts system.”

“Can you send me the name and ID number?” The statistician frowned, suspecting a mistake on the staff’s part, or perhaps that a martial artist was using a civilian ID—concealing one’s identity like that was a serious offense, grounds for expulsion from the martial arts community.

“Alright, we’ve checked, and it’s definitely the same person.”

Soon, a new email appeared in the statistician’s inbox. He put down the phone and opened it, revealing a scanned copy of Xiao Kaitian’s identification card.

He accessed the martial arts system’s database and entered the ID number. Sure enough, there was no record. What was going on? Could it be a martial artist from some sect, disguised as another person?

“Let’s leave this headache for the higher-ups.” He considered sealing the report and submitting it for investigation—this matter warranted a thorough check.

But before he could prepare, the phone rang again. He glanced at the caller: it was a senior leader. He hurried to answer, “Deputy Director!”

“Pull up information on a person named Mifune Fuuichi from Takao Mountain in Japan. I want to see it in ten minutes!” The voice was sharp and unquestionable.

“Yes, understood!” he replied respectfully, tossing the problematic file from the afternoon’s challenge into a drawer. Orders from above always took priority.

Besides, the information requested was foreign; the search would take time, and ten minutes was barely enough.

Thus, the report on the match between Xiao Kaitian and Su Lie was completely forgotten, left abandoned in the drawer.

On the top floor of the Martial Arts Institute of Haidu, a middle-aged man sat behind his desk, his expression grim. A cup of Biluochun tea rested on the table, its faint grassy aroma drifting through the room.

Seated across from him was another man, his hair streaked with gray, a scar running from his brow to the corner of his mouth, giving him a fierce appearance. He drained his tea in one gulp. “Director, this matter could be either trivial or serious. The purpose of their visit to Haidu is unclear. Should we report it?”

These two were Cheng Zhe, director of the Martial Arts Institute, and his deputy, Chen Tongren. Both were martial artists of the Earth Realm, their strength evenly matched. Chen Tongren was about a decade older than Cheng Zhe. Together, they had supported the Institute for many years, its true pillars.

“No need to report yet,” Cheng Zhe shook his head. “If we report every minor issue, we’ll look incompetent. The elders at the Qinling Martial Arts Bureau already have their reservations about us—we mustn’t give them more to criticize.”

“But this time, two people from Japan have come. One is from the Takao Mountain Medicine King Institute, named Mifune Fuuichi. He’s an Onmyoji, though his actual strength is unclear—files can be unreliable. The other is a Jonin from Togakushi, according to the Intelligence Department. We only know someone has arrived; no name, nothing else.”

“Jonin identities are usually secret; it’s normal not to know.” Cheng Zhe gently turned his tea cup. “Any word on what they’re here for?”

Mifune Fuuichi’s strength aside, a Jonin was equivalent to an Earth Realm martial artist, nearly on par with the two of them, which explained the Institute’s caution.

“Not very clear. Togakushi is affiliated with the prestigious Takeda family from Kai Province, which has never been friendly with Han-Tang.” Chen Tongren licked his lips, his hands clenched, knuckles cracking. “But rumor has it the young master of the Takeda family was secretly assassinated, and the word is that someone from Han-Tang did it.”

“Who would dare such a thing?” Cheng Zhe was startled. Killing the young master of a renowned Japanese family would certainly invite a manhunt. “Does Han-Tang have anyone that bold?”

“That’s why I’m asking if we should report it,” Chen Tongren replied with a bitter smile. “If things get out of hand, the two of us…”

“What, are you afraid?” Cheng Zhe stood up, pacing the office with his hands behind his back. “That’s not like you. Getting old and timid, are you?”

“If you put it that way, there’s no point in talking,” Chen Tongren’s face darkened, clearly displeased.

Cheng Zhe shook his head. “Once the file arrives, we’ll look it over. Also, send word—tell the martial artists of Haidu to keep a low profile for a while and avoid trouble.”

“Understood. Should we assign someone to monitor the arrivals?”

“No need,” Cheng Zhe waved it off. “With their level, our people can’t keep up. Instead, you should dig deeper into why they’ve come. Two arrivals from Japan at once—I sense there’s more to this.”

Cheng Zhe’s insight was indeed remarkable for a director, but whether the truth could be uncovered was another matter.

He exhaled deeply, moved to the window, and gazed out at the glittering nightlife of Haidu. “No matter when, Haidu always remains beautiful.”

Xiao Kaitian was oblivious to all this. He was busy—extremely busy.

Ever since Fenghua Holdings agreed to the financing, his workload multiplied. He left many details to Guo Lei, who, along with Tang Tian, seemed to argue daily; the two were at loggerheads, never seeing eye to eye, now more contentious than ever.

Xiao Kaitian paid them no mind, simply updating Chen Jingming on progress and promising that two hundred million would soon be in place. Chen Jingming was so delighted that every time he saw Xiao Kaitian lately, he bowed and nodded obsequiously.

There was no helping it—years of poverty had made Chen Jingming accustomed to servility. Even Ling Xuan, the renowned director, rolled her eyes at his behavior.

Yet, to say she was unhappy would be a lie. The night the funding was confirmed, she was so excited she didn’t sleep, and now, dark circles ringed her eyes, barely masked by makeup.

After joining Tang Dynasty Entertainment, she had thought her dreams in the entertainment industry were over, that she would never realize them. Now, hope was rekindled.

This explained her frequent appearances at Qixi Media recently.

That day, as she idly but “willingly” played the role of front desk receptionist, the door swung open, and a graceful silhouette entered, catching her eye.