An Changqing: The Outsider Turned Out to Be Me

Her laughter stopped abruptly.

An indescribable, terrifying pressure flooded the entire tunnel like seawater pouring backward.

The fighting spirit on Long Ao’s face froze. He felt as though an invisible mountain were pressing down on him, crushing his chest until even breathing became a luxury.

The blood surging through his body was forcibly suppressed by that power, unable to stir again.

An Changqing’s face went deathly pale. The fingers gripping his sword trembled slightly. The sword heart he took pride in was so overwhelmed before this person that even mustering the slightest thought of resistance was incredibly difficult.

So this was the strength of the person before them?

She didn’t even need to make a move. Her aura alone was enough to crush these so-called prodigies.

Chen Guan was also caught beneath the pressure, but his solid foundation allowed him to barely maintain his balance.

However, he had to put on an act and appear to be in roughly the same condition as his companions. He controlled his muscles, turning his face pale as well. His breathing became ragged, fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and he looked as though he were struggling desperately to hold on.

His mind raced.

What should he do?

This was Santai’s private business. She wanted to seize the Heart of Resurrection. If he helped An Changqing and Long Ao fight Santai, they would have no chance of winning.

But An Changqing and Long Ao were both stubborn kids. And Long Ao apparently didn’t know that Santai was Santai.

“Any objections now?”

Santai withdrew her aura and looked at the three of them with a smiling expression, as though the terrifying pressure that had nearly made heaven and earth change color just moments ago had been nothing more than a harmless joke.

Long Ao and An Changqing gasped for breath, sweat soaking through their backs.

They couldn’t even touch the hem of her clothes.

“You can take it.”

An Changqing spoke with difficulty. “But can you tell me your name? With strength like yours, I imagine you’re already beyond caring about a name.”

“Trying to fish for information?”

Santai saw straight through his intentions and chuckled. “Sure. As long as you can survive my hands, I’ll tell you.”

She truly didn’t care about one name. After all, she had many names, just as she had many different prices on her head.

But if she told him simply because he asked, wouldn’t that make her look bad?

Besides, Santai was genuinely curious about the strength of these three kids.

When a group of prodigies faced a genius from the previous generation like her, what kind of performance would they put on?

Especially since two of these prodigies were her coworkers. That made her even more curious.

Her figure vanished from where she stood.

Not good!

Chen Guan’s pupils narrowed to pinpoints.

In the next instant, Santai had already appeared in front of An Changqing, less than half a meter separating them.

She extended one finger and lightly tapped the blade of the long sword in An Changqing’s hand with the tip of her black-painted fingernail.

Clang!

A crisp sound rang out.

An Changqing felt an irresistible force surge through the blade. The web between his thumb and forefinger split open on the spot, spraying blood everywhere.

The long sword that had accompanied him for years flew from his grasp, tracing an arc through the air before plunging into the distant tunnel wall with a sharp clang. The blade continued to hum and tremble.

“First.”

Santai spoke softly, not even glancing at An Changqing, who had been knocked back seven or eight steps and wore an expression of utter shock.

Her gaze shifted to Long Ao.

Long Ao’s body was taut as a fully drawn bow.

He could feel that although the woman’s gaze was not focused on him, the invisible pressure squeezing in from every direction was forcing his body—his greatest source of pride—to experience the bitterness of helplessness.

“Second.”

Santai’s voice was light and airy, like a lover’s whisper, yet it made every nerve in Long Ao’s body tense to the limit.

But Santai did not attack him directly as he had expected.

Instead, she merely studied Chen Guan with interest as he tried his best to curl himself into a ball. Then, unhurriedly, she drew a scroll from inside her trench coat.

The scroll unfurled a corner in the air before her.

A drop of ink, so dense it seemed impossible to dissolve, dripped from the blank surface.

The drop spread through the air. Ink-wash patterns rapidly took shape, eventually forming a sleek black dire wolf.

It landed silently on the ground. Its limbs were powerfully built, its fangs sharp, and its black, pupil-less eyes turned toward An Changqing and Long Ao.

[Here’s a joke: your Sister Santai is a knowledge-type esper.]

[She literally turned knowledge is power into a physical manifestation.]

[Isn’t the knowledge type supposed to be support? Why does it feel even more overpowered than Long Ao’s enhancement type?]

[The person above is too naive. Espers don’t have strong or weak abilities—only users who are twisted enough. Your Sister Santai is clearly the most twisted of the twisted.]

“Roar.”

The ink wolf let out a low growl. The next second, it sprang into motion. Its black afterimage stretched across the ground as it pounced at Long Ao.

“Good timing!”

Long Ao shouted. His suppressed fighting spirit had finally found an outlet. Without caring what kind of creature it was, he drove a fist forward, the air erupting with a deep boom.

Bang!

His fist struck the ink wolf squarely in the head.

The scene he expected—its skull exploding—did not occur. The wolf’s head caved inward from the blow, and its entire body was sent flying like a lump of mud, smashing into the tunnel wall.

But only a second later, the lump of mud began to squirm and gather itself together, once again taking the shape of a giant wolf. It was completely unharmed. Its aura had not weakened in the slightest.

“How is that possible...?”

Long Ao’s pupils contracted.

An Changqing had already recalled his sword and rushed to his side, his expression grim. “Physical attacks are barely effective against it. It has no vital point.”

As he spoke, the long sword in his hand traced a flourish. Several solid sword auras crossed through the air, slicing the charging ink wolf into pieces.

Yet the scattered chunks of ink soon began to move as though they were alive, merging back together once more.

“Tsk. What a pain.”

Long Ao spat to the side and charged forward again.

For a time, the tunnel echoed with the clang of metal, the howling of fists, and the ink wolf’s eerie growls. The battle was exceptionally lively.

That liveliness, however, had nothing to do with Chen Guan.

An invisible barrier separated him from Santai. One stood at one end of the battlefield, the other at the opposite end, turning them into the two most leisurely spectators in this desperate fight.

Sweat seeped from the hand gripping Chen Guan’s scythe.

He wasn’t nervous.

He was embarrassed.

His toes were practically about to dig a three-bedroom apartment into the floor of his shoes.

He had just left school and run into a coworker. His classmates were fighting with everything they had, yet still couldn’t defeat her.

What was he supposed to do? Asking online. It’s urgent.

[Hahaha, I can’t take it anymore. This scene is too funny.]

[On one side, they’re fighting to the death. On the other, two coworkers are just staring at each other.]

[Santai: Little Xuanwu, watch your sister put on a show for you. Brother Coffin: Sis, please don’t come over here.]

[An Changqing & Long Ao: There’s a traitor among us. Wait, no—the outsiders are actually us.]

[Incorrect. The only outsider in this family is poor Little Changqing.]