Chapter 26: Sprouting

At the same time, in the Exxon Magic Energy Laboratory.

Outside the glass wall, Dwight Payton, wearing glasses and with arms crossed over his chest, quietly watched the laboratory inside. Three minutes later, a young man in a white lab coat approached Dwight with a stack of documents.

"Mr. Payton, the test report is out. The result is quite surprising; the inspector's inference was correct."

Dwight Payton's eyes narrowed slightly: "So, at that time, someone did strike Ichabod Wood's throat at a speed exceeding 320 kilometers per hour?"

"Exactly as you said."

The young man smiled: "But according to our calculations, that person's sword speed should have exceeded 350 kilometers per hour."

"350 kilometers per hour?"

Dwight was even more surprised: "But as far as I know, his opponent was only a third-level magic energy swordsman."

"I don't know the specifics, but we've run repeated tests and have sufficient evidence to support this. In fact, if the armor you provided hadn't been sturdy enough, this student Ichabod would have ended up in more than just a coma."

The young man waved the documents in his hand as he spoke: "I can vouch for the report we've produced."

"Even if it's made public?"

Seeing the other's indifferent expression, Dwight already knew the answer. He then frowned and fell into deep thought.

At that moment, behind him, a younger man in a suit said incredulously: "Isn't this too exaggerated? A third-level magic energy swordsman, without any magical enhancement, can achieve a sword speed of 350 kilometers per hour? Is it possible that someone else intervened?"

"That's unlikely, isn't it?"

This was another employee of the Nathan Sports Group: "There were only the two of them on the stage, plus the referee. But Mr. Sampson is only a seventh-level magic energy referee; he couldn't have done it either. I also can't think of any reason why the referee would help the other student, Andrew."

"That may not be the case. I've investigated some very interesting things here. This student Andrew is far from simple. His full name is Andrew Lee Willtenstein—doesn't that ring a bell? In fact, he is the nineteenth heir of the Willtenstein family. However, according to our findings, he doesn't seem to be recognized as a member of the Willtenstein family as a whole. Then there's Linden Academy; Louise Linden transferred from Stellar Vein Noble Academy to Linden precisely to revive the two fighting clubs at Linden Academy. But if this student Andrew is also defeated, Linden Academy will completely lose hope of participating in the team competition."

"So, there's a possibility of an exchange of interests between the two parties?"

"How is that possible? The Linden family wouldn't do such a thing, would they? If that were true, the reputation the Linden Academy has built over centuries would be completely ruined."

"But aside from that, what other reasonable explanation is there? Are we supposed to explain to the public that a third-level magic energy swordsman destroyed Ichabod's armor with a sword speed of 350 kilometers per hour? That's too absurd; we might as well admit that our armor had a defect—"

"It's not entirely absurd. With certain special bloodlines or secret techniques, it is possible. This student Andrew is of extraordinary origin!"

At this point, the young man in the white lab coat raised his hand impatiently: "Hey! Hey! Gentlemen! Could you please stop for a moment? Before you start your discussion, I'd like you to take a look at this."

Dwight raised an eyebrow slightly and looked at the young man, who was taking a picture out of the folder.

"What is this?"

Dwight reached out and took the picture, then his pupils contracted slightly.

"This is a drawing of the weapon we inferred from the marks on the armor. I think you might find it useful?"

The young man smiled: "It looks like a very ordinary magic-pattern steel sword, suitable for beginners."

"Thank you, Exxon! I owe you one."

Dwight lingered no longer and strode out, instructing his subordinates behind him: "From now on, investigate everything about this student Andrew, and monitor all his matches. I need the most professional personnel and the most professional equipment."

"The most professional personnel? How about the Gallup Commercial Investigation Company? I'll have them dispatch a reliable team."

"No!"

Dwight hesitated slightly: "Commercial investigation companies have their limitations. Find the Tianyan Detective Agency; they've been very famous lately. Tell them I just want results, preferably before the fourth round of the Atlanta NHSAA Cold Weapon Fighting Competition. Negotiate the specific price with them."

His assistant immediately understood: 'just want results' meant that any legal or illegal means could be used.

...

When Li Mochen woke up, he found himself lying in a room filled with white tones. If he wasn't mistaken, this should be a hospital ward. Then, with a blank gaze, he stared at the ceiling above, lost in thought.

A great humiliation! A great humiliation! He really had no face to see anyone! He never expected that his decades of pure reputation would be completely ruined in one night. In a moment of carelessness, he had fallen into the hands of two girls who hadn't even grown all their hair yet.

Should he kill them to silence them? If what happened today were to be known by his disciples and grandchildren in the Primordial Dome Realm, how could he, Wenjian Taoran, continue to be a teacher and elder? His enemies and rivals would surely laugh their heads off.

But a few minutes later, a knock came at the door, and then an elderly man in a tailcoat pushed the door open and entered.

"Student Andrew, you're awake, aren't you?"

The man cautiously glanced at Li Mochen before walking to his bedside: "May I ask how you're feeling now? Is there any other discomfort?"

Li Mochen glanced at him expressionlessly, then looked away, continuing to stare at the ceiling with a look of utter despair.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Miss Angela's private butler, named Rosia."

The elderly man in the tailcoat, who called himself Rosia, bowed with utmost elegance: "Entrusted by Miss Angela, I am here to take care of you until you wake up. Additionally, Miss Angela asked me to convey her sincere apologies, as well as Miss Lina's, and to ask for your forgiveness for Miss Lina's recklessness."

But Li Mochen remained as if dead, showing no reaction.

Seeing this, Rosia shook his head slightly: "I have already summoned the best holy healer from the nearby church to restore all your injuries. If you still feel unwell, you can mention it to the hospital. You can also have a full examination; all medical expenses will be covered by us. Also, this is a small gift from my mistress, as a token of apology—"

As he spoke, he placed two wooden boxes on the small table beside the bed: "Inside are some tonics to help you recover your health. Please forgive me for taking the liberty; the holy healer just now believed that your body is very weak."

But Li Mochen remained wooden-faced, completely unresponsive. The private butler named Rosia could only bow slightly again in resignation and leave the ward. His eyes were filled with utter confusion: according to reason, this guy should have gained a great advantage, so why did he look like he had been violated?