Chivalry And Justice/C5 Hero Saving the Beauty
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Chivalry And Justice/C5 Hero Saving the Beauty
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C5 Hero Saving the Beauty

"Nevertheless, we should have a contingency plan in place, just to be safe," Zhou Sihai continued. "Maniac, where exactly did you encounter those thieves in front of the milk tea shop? And where did you toss the iron rods and knives?"

"It was at the Left Bank Milk Tea Shop. I threw the iron rods and knives into the bushes beneath the dorm. Why do you ask?" Feng Manlou replied, taken aback.

"Retrieve the iron rods and knives, bag them up as evidence. Tomorrow, we'll head back to the milk tea shop to get the surveillance footage," instructed Zhou Sihai. "You're not familiar with that crowd. If they end up just lying in bed for a few days, spending a few hundred bucks on medical bills, then we can consider the matter closed.

"But if you truly shattered that guy's balls, they'll definitely go to the police and try to turn the tables on us. We need to secure evidence now to cover our bases for what might come."

After finishing his explanation, Zhou Sihai noticed that Feng Manlou and the others were staring at him as if he were some kind of oddity.

"Is something wrong? Did I say something incorrect?" Zhou Sihai scratched his head, puzzled.

"No, you're spot on. I'm just surprised at how well you understand these people," Feng Manlou admitted. Despite having lived two lifetimes, he had never dealt with thieves. Seeing that Zhou Sihai, at merely 18, had such insight, he couldn't help but regard him with newfound respect.

Zhou Sihai was taken aback for a moment before offering an embarrassed smile. "Back in vocational school, I took a wrong turn. Consider it a lesson learned the hard way."

The mood in the dorm shifted subtly, with Ren Haoqiu and Lee Fann displaying a mix of fear and discomfort in their expressions.

Zhou Sihai caught their looks and his smile turned bittersweet.

"I had no idea you'd been mixed up in that world," Du Xinbo said, as nonchalant as ever, draping an arm around Zhou Sihai's neck. "Come on, share some of your wild stories with us."

"There's nothing glorious to tell," Zhou Sihai demurred, shaking his head. "In others' eyes, I was nothing more than a troublemaking, annoying punk. It's not worth mentioning..."

Sensing that Zhou Sihai had a past he preferred to leave unspoken, Feng Manlou tactfully sent Du Xinbo and the rest off to shower. He then invited Zhou Sihai to join him in retrieving the iron rods and daggers from the bushes.

Carrying a bag of instant noodles, the pair descended the stairs and quickly located the iron rods and daggers hidden in the low shrubbery. Zhou Sihai delicately grasped the items with a tissue and placed them into the bag before concealing it within his clothing as they headed back upstairs.

Approaching the dormitory, Zhou Sihai gave Feng Manlou a reassuring pat on the shoulder. They exchanged knowing smiles, an entire conversation passing between them without a word.

That evening, while his roommates gathered for another round of gaming, Feng Manlou, who hadn't been a gamer in his past life and had no interest in it now, lay on his bed scrolling through Weibo. His casual browsing turned to concern, and he exited Weibo to search, "If you kick someone in self-defense, could you go to jail?"

Reading through dozens of responses, he discovered that even the most lenient sentence was three years, which weighed heavily on his spirits.

"Don't freak yourself out with stuff you find online; it's not reliable," Zhou Sihai said, casting a sidelong glance at him. "People online tend to blow things out of proportion. Look up symptoms for a common cold, and they'll have you thinking it's terminal cancer. Trust me, you're going to be fine."

Embarrassed to be reassured by someone so young, Feng Manlou's cheeks flushed with a mix of gratitude and chagrin. "Heh, I know. I was just browsing out of curiosity," he replied, then gave himself a mental face-palm. Great, he thought, I've just incriminated myself!

Zhou Sihai chuckled. "There's no shame in it. I was so terrified once, I couldn't sleep for days. You're handling this much better than I did." With that, he turned his attention back to his game.

Bolstered by the words of someone who'd been through it, Feng Manlou felt a surprising lift in his mood. He smirked at himself and began searching for ways to parlay his martial arts skills into a profitable venture.

[Security guard, monthly salary of $500, with meals and accommodation provided, plus benefits...]

[Sparring partner at a martial arts club, monthly salary of $650 plus commission, competition experience required...]

[Action performer at East Sea Adventure Park, monthly salary of $650 with meals and accommodation, film and television experience needed...]

Martial arts stunt doubles, with generous pay, must have a national ranking in combat routines, and film and television performance experience is preferred...

Feng Manlou was on the verge of swearing.

Is martial arts expertise really so undervalued in this world that without competition rankings or acting experience, one is relegated to being a security guard?

What happened to the promises of being the personal expert for the campus beauty, the bodyguard for female stars, or the unbeatable chauffeur for tycoons?

Was it all just fanciful fiction?

The next morning, alarm clocks blared throughout the dorm, each one silenced in turn.

"Who's turn is it to run laps today? Don't forget to punch in for us too..." Du Xinbo muttered, still lost in his dream world with the goddess.

"I..." Lee Nan responded, sounding utterly defeated.

"Don't bother getting up; I'll go," Feng Manlou decided, unable to sleep any longer despite his intentions. He rubbed his face and got out of bed.

"Thanks, man. I'll buy you a soda later..." Lee Nan promised, settling back into bed.

Having slept on it, Feng Manlou had come to a realization about his struggle to find a lucrative path with his martial arts skills.

Ultimately, it wasn't that society didn't need martial artists; it was that there was no shortage of half-baked practitioners.

With truly exceptional martial arts abilities, the world would still offer ample opportunities to prosper!

Upon waking, Feng Manlou checked his hands and stomach.

The swelling in his hands had subsided, and the bruises on his belly had faded significantly.

He nodded in approval.

The combined treatment of Yunnan Baiyao and Notoginseng capsules had indeed been effective.

He quickly shook the medicine bottle and applied another dose.

...

To enhance the physical fitness of its students, East Sea Institute initiated a mandatory running event. Students were required to run three laps each morning (exceptions were made for inclement weather or illness), or face the same consequences as skipping class.

The institute had even invested a hefty sum in a punch card system, which was essentially a high-powered time clock.

Every time students passed the entrance to the sports field, their magnetic cards would automatically scan with the inductor buried beneath the track. After completing three laps, the data would be uploaded to the terminal.

Initially, the new system had a significant impact, prompting all students to begin their morning jogs. However, within a couple of weeks, the computer science students discovered that the card reader was riddled with bugs. It recognized cards but not the individuals, allowing anyone to swipe for someone else.

In each dorm room, only one representative needed to run three laps on the field each day to fulfill the requirement for all.

Upon reaching the sports field, five students were waiting at the entrance. When Feng Manlou arrived, a girl with a ponytail asked, "Swap cards?"

Feng Manlou nodded in agreement, "Let's."

Swapping cards meant students from different dorms exchanged their magnetic cards to avoid detection by the system, which could flag the identical activity patterns of roommates.

After the six of them exchanged cards, they casually made their way onto the track. Some jogged slowly, others simply strolled along. A hundred meters in, Feng Manlou suddenly picked up the pace, running lap after lap without slowing down for three full circuits.

This unexpected burst of speed left the other five students astonished, casting perplexed glances in his direction.

Feng Manlou wasn't showing off for any onlookers; instead, he was struck by the realization of his swollen hands. It seemed the system could teach him martial arts but not enhance his physical condition or strengthen his muscles and bones—otherwise, why would his hands swell from just throwing a couple of punches?

[Host, there's no need for excessive speculation. This system isn't that flawed. While teaching you martial arts, it also improves your bone toughness and overall physical fitness.]

Feng Manlou, taken aback by the message on the light curtain, questioned the logic.

'How can that be? If my strength has increased, why did my hands swell after just two punches?'

[The Five-step Fist is merely a basic technique and offers limited enhancement to fist hardness.]

'Really?'

[Yes.]

With some reluctance, Feng Manlou accepted the explanation. Nonetheless, he resolved to make time for physical training every day from then on.

After completing three laps, he waited at the entrance for the other five people. Skipping the cafeteria, he headed to a secluded little garden behind it. His plan was to run through the Five-step Fist a few times, savoring the satisfying sensation of last night's punches. He intended to find a tree to work on the toughness of his punches and kicks. In his past life, he had seen many masters improve the hardness of their hands and feet by striking tree trunks.

"Sorry, you're a great person, but I just don't have feelings for you... I'm sure you'll find someone better," a soft female voice drifted from the pavilion to his right.

Was that a confession?

No way, a confession this early in the morning? With the mood most people are in when they wake up, wasn't that just setting himself up for rejection?

Feng Manlou glanced over the central flowerbed and saw a young man in the opposite pavilion, holding flowers and professing his love to a girl. She was stunning, even more so than Xia Lan, whom he had met the day before. She could easily pass for a film star, though she seemed a bit on the thin side.

Not one to miss out on some drama, Feng Manlou paused to watch the unfolding scene.

"Don't you dislike Zhao Huaiyuan? Why won't you give me a chance? I really like you a lot!"

"Sorry..."

"Why? I like you so much, how can you not like me back?!" The boy's voice escalated into a hysterical shout.

What kind of logic was that? Just because he liked her, she was supposed to reciprocate?

Feng Manlou, an onlooker, thought the boy was being unreasonably obstinate.

The girl, terrified by the boy's outburst, backed away, stammering, "You like me, but I don't feel the same. Love can't be forced, especially since we barely talk to each other."

"I don't care. I like you, so you have to like me back. If you don't, then I... I..."

In a fit of desperation, the boy discarded the roses and pulled out a red art knife from his pocket. "Then we'll die together!"

As the blade of the art knife slid out with a chilling click, it sounded like a demon sharpening its teeth, sending shivers down the spines of those who heard it.

"What are you doing?!" The girl was petrified, her face draining of color in an instant.

"Do you agree to be my girlfriend or not?!" The boy's voice thundered.

[Heroic opportunity: Save the damsel and earn +30 Heroic Points. Will you seize the moment?]

Heroic Points, huh? Not bad at all!

Without overthinking, Feng Manlou leaped into the flowerbed and dashed towards the pavilion.

"Dude, chill out. It's just a girl. The world is full of beautiful people; why obsess over just one? Plus, she's not even your type. You're a catch, and she's... well, let's just say it's like pairing a prince with a beast. You can do better," Feng Manlou said, trying to defuse the situation.

Ye Qingling, who had been too frightened to move, felt a surge of anger at being called ugly and rolled her eyes in response.

Feng Manlou didn't have time for her antics. 'Seriously, now's not the time for eye-rolling,' he thought, frantically signaling to Ye Qingling with his eyes, 'Run already, so I can make my escape too!'

But Ye Qingling, consumed by her irritation, failed to grasp his silent plea.

Lu Feng, already on edge, was startled by Feng Manlou's sudden appearance but quickly grew even angrier. "Qingling, is it because of this guy that you don't like me?"

"Whoa, man, you're jumping to conclusions. I don't even know her!" Feng Manlou protested, desperate not to be accused of stealing someone's love interest.

"You say you don't know her, yet you're exchanging glances with Qingling. I've had enough!" Lu Feng, blinded by rage, began to wildly brandish the art knife.

'Damn, caught by the last person I wanted to notice,' Feng Manlou thought.

"Bro, you've got it all wrong. This isn't flirting; I have a condition that causes my facial muscles to spasm involuntarily. Trust me, I'd react the same even if I saw a pig."

Feng Manlou's primary concern was to calm the boy down, regardless of whether it enraged the beauty further.

He stepped back, hindered by the knee-high gazebo bench. His opponent did not pounce immediately.

But he had gravely underestimated Lu Feng's frenzy.

Lu Feng's swings with the art knife grew wilder. Although Feng Manlou was unscathed, the blade grazed Ye Qingling's arm, sending droplets of blood flying from its edge.

"Ah!"

With a gash in her arm, Ye Qingling screamed, retreating until she slipped and fell.

"Qingling, are you okay? What happened?!" Lu Feng, realizing he had wounded his idol, rushed towards her, knife still in hand.

His features twisted in madness, it was unclear whether he intended to help or to harm. Ye Qingling's terror intensified, her screams piercing as she frantically kicked and scrambled backwards.

"Idiotic woman, dumber than anyone else, yet with a voice louder than anyone's!" Feng Manlou spat out an insult, leaped over the bench, and delivered a forceful kick to the wrist of the knife-wielding boy.

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