Chapter Seventy: Exposure

When Xu Yangfeng squeezed out from the crowd of onlookers, Liu Pan had already noticed him.

For ordinary martial artists, it was nearly impossible to see through Xu Yangfeng’s human-skin mask disguise or his deliberate concealment of cultivation by simply scanning with their spiritual sense. But for cultivators with true mental power, such tricks were child’s play.

Wanting to remain low-key and attract no attention, Liu Kuang was reluctant to use his own mental power. After all, his own mental power was only at the seventh layer of the Dripping Water Realm; if he used it and encountered another cultivator doing the same, he’d be easily discovered—so much for staying inconspicuous if that happened.

In the novel, Liu Pan had set it out quite clearly: though Cloudflow Sect was only a four-star sect, there were still some cultivators among its ranks with mental power.

After all, as a four-star sect, Cloudflow’s sphere of influence spanned several thousand miles at least. With such a vast territory, naturally, there would be no shortage of residents, and it was hardly surprising for a cultivator with mental power to appear every few years.

Though most of these rare talents inevitably sought out more powerful sects, there were always a few with unconventional ideas, or whose mental power wasn’t particularly strong, who chose to remain.

Mental power could certainly make a cultivator stronger, but only up to a point; before absolute strength, such advantages weren’t worth mentioning. Those with mental power who remained in mid- or lower-tier sects could perhaps be summed up by the saying: better to be a big fish in a small pond.

Liu Pan’s mental power locked onto Xu Yangfeng, and he frowned. Within Cloudflow City, martial artists were hardly rare; there were even Martial Kings. If his probing mental power had detected an ordinary Martial Artist or Martial King, Liu Pan wouldn’t have paid any particular attention. But now his scan had picked up on Xu Yangfeng, who was deliberately hiding his cultivation, wearing a mask, and, most importantly, approaching both him and Liu Kuang. How could he not be on alert?

What was going on here? Liu Pan was baffled.

He knew full well that “those who come with ill intent rarely mean well.” Yet, thinking back over his recent days in Cloudflow City, Liu Pan couldn't recall having offended anyone or drawn anyone's attention.

So upon realizing that the masked man’s target might be himself and Liu Kuang, Liu Pan felt a wave of confusion.

In the end, though, confusion wasn’t the main issue—the real issue was their current predicament. If the masked man truly was after both him and Liu Kuang, it would undoubtedly be troublesome.

Ordinarily, a sixth-rank Martial Artist like the masked man could probably be slain if Liu Pan and Liu Kuang teamed up. But what could they do under these circumstances? As he felt the masked man drawing closer, Liu Pan’s eyes flickered, but he made no move whatsoever. This wasn’t for lack of desire, but rather the impossibility of meaningful action in this situation.

Besides, even though his mental power showed the masked man approaching, what if he was merely passing by? To show any untoward reaction would only expose themselves unnecessarily.

Thus, all Liu Pan could do was wait silently, hoping the masked man would simply pass on by.

But clearly, this was not to be. Perhaps the masked man was just passing by in relation to everyone else, but for Liu Pan and Liu Kuang, it was certainly no coincidence.

Soon enough, Xu Yangfeng arrived at the end of the line where Liu Pan and Liu Kuang stood. Since he was behind them, he casually placed a hand on Liu Kuang’s shoulder, who stood at the rear, then gave him a slight push, extending his other hand towards Liu Pan’s shoulder.

His movements were all casual and natural, a warm smile fixed on his face; to an outsider, it might have seemed like three old friends greeting each other affectionately. Even Xu Yangfeng himself felt it was a success—once he placed his left hand on Liu Pan’s shoulder, he could lead both Liu Pan and Liu Kuang off the square as if nothing were amiss.

Yet reality would not unfold so smoothly for Xu Yangfeng.

In truth, his luck had simply run out. After all, cultivators with mental power were few and far between—who would have guessed that two of them would turn up at this Cloudflow Sect disciple recruitment, and, worse, appear together?

The moment Xu Yangfeng reached out, Liu Pan noticed—but it was clear he could do nothing to stop it. In fact, from the moment Xu Yangfeng appeared to the moment his hand touched Liu Kuang’s shoulder, Liu Pan could only watch in silence.

When Xu Yangfeng’s hand finally landed on Liu Kuang, Liu Pan merely sighed inwardly, making no special move.

But just as Xu Yangfeng’s hand was less than half a foot from Liu Pan’s shoulder, a sudden surge of primal force erupted.

Xu Yangfeng’s expression changed dramatically. To his horror, Liu Kuang, whom he’d just subdued, suddenly broke free from his control. Before he could react, a powerful, wild elbow crashed into his unguarded chest.

Thud!

A dull impact rang out. Xu Yangfeng staggered back seven or eight steps before collapsing to the ground. His chest caved in, and blood trickled from his lips—clearly, he was seriously injured.

Silence. The once-bustling square was suddenly hushed. Every face was stunned, all eyes fixed on the source of the primal force. Perhaps it was the aura of the victor, but nearly every gaze lingered at the end of the line, on Liu Kuang.

A dozen spiritual senses swept over, and perhaps only Liu Pan noticed that among them were two currents of mental power—one belonging to Liu Kuang, the other…

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Several sharp sounds sliced through the air as seven or eight figures descended, flying on their artifacts, landing at the end of the queue with Liu Kuang.

The first to land was a black-clad man of about thirty. The moment he appeared, a joyful voice rang out, “Haha! Who would have thought we’d find a second disciple with mental power at this recruitment?”

Perhaps due to his status, none of the other cultivators who had arrived by artifact bothered to say much—they were even preparing to depart, unwilling to get involved in any trouble.

But at the mention of “mental power,” all of them stiffened, halting in their tracks, staring at Liu Kuang in astonishment.

Liu Kuang himself was startled by the words, realizing only then that he had unconsciously used his mental power and that others had noticed.

The instant Xu Yangfeng’s hand landed on his shoulder, Liu Kuang’s heart sank. He felt an unfamiliar primal force and a strange spiritual sense flood his body, and then lost all control—even speech was impossible.

Being thus controlled was obviously dangerous. To break free, he would have to either expel the foreign primal force or the invading spiritual sense. The former was impossible—Martial Artist-level primal force was far beyond what his own Martial Disciple force could overcome—so his only option was to expel the spiritual sense, which he did reflexively using his mental power.

The moment he regained control of his body, Liu Kuang didn’t hesitate; he summoned every ounce of primal force he could and dealt Xu Yangfeng a merciless blow.