Chapter Twenty-Three: An Effortless Resolution

Receiving Yang Jiao’s beckoning gesture, the three who had been viciously beating Ye Ming immediately halted, their bodies flashing as they darted toward Liu Pan.

These disciples, all at the ninth level of martial prowess, were mostly eighteen or nineteen years old. They followed Yang Jiao because they knew their chances of breaking through to the Martial Apprentice realm before twenty were slim. Yang Jiao, still young himself, possessed a combat strength none of them could rival, so they chose to trail behind him.

Simply put, some disciples followed out of fear of Yang Jiao, while others hoped that when he advanced to the Martial Apprentice realm, he would remember them and grant them favors, increasing their own chances to break through.

Now, however, the situation left the three somewhat panicked. At Yang Jiao’s signal, they rushed over instantly, but in the scant few dozen meters between them, they witnessed Yang Jiao being flung aside as soon as he confronted Liu Pan.

Defeated? The three were dumbfounded. None had anticipated that Yang Jiao, whom they considered invincible, would be “instantly slain” by Liu Pan.

In a flash, all three froze, not daring to advance.

With a thunderous crash, Yang Jiao burst from the dilapidated room, disheveled and grim, his eyes twitching at the corners. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to be tossed aside by Liu Pan so quickly.

Yet, Yang Jiao wasn’t one to admit defeat so easily. His eyes flicked toward the nearby disciples who hesitated to approach, and his expression darkened further.

“You useless fools, what are you standing there for? Get over here, now!” he roared, charging at Liu Pan once more.

In Yang Jiao’s mind, his earlier defeat was nothing but an accident. After all, in the year before this batch of newcomers arrived, he had been the unrivaled number one below the Martial Apprentice rank in Baiyang Sect. How could he possibly lose to Liu Pan, a mere new disciple?

Power surged in his dantian, and in a moment, Yang Jiao’s lean frame swelled, his body enveloped in a faint earthy yellow glow. A heavy aura spread out instantly, exuding a stifling sense of pressure.

Liu Pan raised his brows. Although he didn’t take Yang Jiao seriously, he had to admit Yang Jiao was indeed talented.

Yang Jiao cultivated a body-refining technique of earth attribute, making his physique remarkably tough—his resilience rivaled, if not surpassed, that of Liu Kuang.

Yet, despite his formidable body, it came with a weakness: decreased speed.

Yang Jiao’s cultivation should have made him bulkier, increasing his explosive power. But he deliberately restricted his diet, keeping his figure lean. Thus, when utilizing his technique, his body didn’t become sluggish from excessive bulk. He sacrificed some explosiveness for agility, which compensated for the loss.

Pairing his robust physique with a high-level movement technique, he achieved a balance between speed and strength, excelling in both offense and defense.

But no matter how perfect, in Liu Pan’s eyes as the author, there was always a flaw. Though Yang Jiao innovatively cultivated earth attributes and maintained his slim build, the inherent heaviness of earth could not be erased.

When activating his earth-type body-refining skill, both his mass and weight increased. Greater mass meant greater inertia; combined with movement speed, the force of his attacks was formidable. Thus, facing him head on was decidedly unwise.

Therefore, the best way to deal with Yang Jiao was to use his own force against him.

My strength won’t harm you; I merely borrow yours to wound you deeply. To do this, one needn’t be stronger or faster than the opponent—what matters is insight and judgment. And in these, Liu Pan, as the author, had described countless battle scenes, and thus knew exactly how to observe and judge.

As Yang Jiao’s fist rushed toward him, Liu Pan’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly stepped back into a bow stance, his palms thrusting forward to meet Yang Jiao’s punch.

Naturally, Liu Pan wouldn’t clash head-on. As fist and palm were about to connect, Liu Pan’s palms swiftly drew back, opening slightly to evade the force on Yang Jiao’s fist, and instead grasping his arm.

His waist dropped, hands gripped tightly, stance shifted, borrowing force, over-the-shoulder throw, reverse bow stance, and a toss—every move executed in an instant. Liu Pan didn’t collide directly with Yang Jiao at all; instead, he used Yang Jiao’s momentum, plus a touch of his own strength, to disrupt Yang Jiao’s balance and send him flying.

Bang!

Another loud crash resounded as a wall in a nearby house gained a new hole—and Yang Jiao was thrown into it.

Dusting off his hands, as if brushing away nonexistent dirt, Liu Pan felt that defeating Yang Jiao was hardly difficult.

Ultimately, Liu Pan’s ease in overcoming Yang Jiao was due to the latter’s cultivation level.

At the martial artist stage, everyone focused on refining their bodies. Even if they practiced boxing or kicking techniques, their attacks were ordinary, merely differing in force. If these attacks failed to land, they were of little use.

And thanks to Liu Pan’s experience in describing grand battles, his insight and judgment placed him in an invincible position below the Martial Apprentice realm. Simply put, Liu Pan had “seen” too much, knew too much, so these typical attacks could never escape his notice.

The three nearby were stunned again. Yang Jiao’s earlier scolding had snapped them from their daze, and despite their irritation, they charged at Liu Pan swiftly.

But to their terror, after only seven or eight meters, they saw Yang Jiao hurled out again, and their panic intensified. They exchanged glances and dared not take another step forward.

Ye Ming was utterly bewildered. Earlier, when the door was shut and the fight began, he had sparred with Yang Jiao and knew well how formidable he was. Had Ye Ming not sensed danger and fled, his outcome would’ve been dreadful.

Because he knew Yang Jiao’s strength, seeing Liu Pan casually toss him aside twice left Ye Ming utterly shocked. Truly, Liu Pan was the one with the deepest understanding of martial arts!

As for Wolf, seeing Yang Jiao thrown so quickly, he felt a certain satisfaction, recalling his own defeat at Liu Pan’s hands. It had been just as swift, just as clear. He imagined Yang Jiao’s current feelings must be much like his own had been.

Liu Kuang, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised that Liu Pan defeated Yang Jiao, nor was he astonished at the ease with which Liu Pan managed it. Based on Yan’s words, Liu Kuang had always felt Liu Pan was mysterious, and even planned, once his injuries healed, to challenge Liu Pan himself.

After Yang Jiao was thrown into the room again, he remained silent, surely aware of the gulf between himself and Liu Pan. Liu Pan’s demeanor was so calm and casual—it was obvious to anyone that he hadn’t used his full strength. Facing such a dangerous person, to keep pressing on would only invite suffering.

Liu Pan glanced at the three nearby, now completely lost, and couldn’t be bothered with them; they wouldn’t dare make another move.

He checked Liu Kuang and Wolf; their injuries were serious, but after a brief rest, they could walk without trouble.

“If you can walk, then let’s go,” he said casually, surveying the area before heading toward a decent-looking house nearby.

Originally, Liu Pan had planned to keep his distance from Liu Kuang and Wolf once they reached Peak Eight, but he hadn’t expected to clash with Yang Jiao so soon, leaving both men heavily wounded.

Thus, Liu Pan couldn’t simply leave them be. At the very least, he needed to wait until they recovered enough to protect themselves before considering putting distance between them.

Liu Kuang and Wolf fell silent at his words, seeming to contemplate something. They exchanged glances and then, almost simultaneously, rose and followed Liu Pan.

Ye Ming was once again bewildered, for Liu Pan had called Liu Kuang and Wolf, completely ignoring him, which wounded his fragile heart.

But for someone who lived by the motto “shamelessness is invincibility,” such hurt was but a fleeting thought, quickly cast aside.

“Big brother, second brother, fourth brother, wait for me!” he shouted, racing after Liu Kuang and Wolf to follow Liu Pan.

Liu Pan was exasperated and headache-ridden. He knew Ye Ming well, and for that very reason, he felt troubled—how did he ever create such a comic, foolish character? Regret gnawed at him; if only he’d known he would be transported into his own book, he should have written Ye Ming’s death in the very first chapter—no, the very first sentence.

Compared to Liu Pan’s helplessness, Liu Kuang and Wolf’s expressions were gloomy as they looked at Ye Ming with unfriendly eyes, still brooding over what had just happened. After all, if not for Ye Ming, they wouldn’t have suffered such serious injuries.