Chapter 527: Old Acquaintances and Conflict

The young man was tall and slender, wearing a silver half-mask; the exposed half of his face bore faint tattoos, but what drew even more attention was the long green wooden case strapped to his back.

“Li Fengquan”

A name that sprang from the depths of Wang Yu’s memory the instant he saw the young man’s face.

The young man was none other than the masked youth he had once encountered aboard the “Iron Arrow,” the one possessing the Fire Bird bloodline who had used the Spirit-Soul Commanding Technique to kill Qiankun Zi in a single strike—the last survivor of the Li family of Yuezhou.

Though Li Fengquan’s features had changed slightly, the icy aura of cold detachment he radiated remained exactly as it had been back then—impossible to mistake.

What sent a chill through Wang Yu was that when he swept his spiritual sense over the man, he could not gauge his cultivation level at all—meaning the man either possessed a powerful artifact to conceal his aura, or his cultivation far surpassed Wang Yu’s, at least reaching Foundation Establishment mid-stage, enough to block his perception.

Li Fengquan’s ruthless cruelty in killing his own fiancée, and his astonishing bloodline power, had left an indelible impression on Wang Yu.

Now that the man had appeared in the Eastern Wastes, Wang Yu wondered whether he had been here all along, or had arrived only recently, like himself.

The masked youth standing before the giant Chaotic Stone seemed to sense the brush of spiritual sense across his body; he turned and cast a cold glance toward Wang Yu, then paused slightly.

Wang Yu smiled faintly—he knew the man had recognized him too.

Once both had been merely Qi Condensation cultivators; now they met again in the Eastern Wastes, thousands of miles from the Southern Continent—truly a strange twist of fate.

“Wang Shidi, have you met someone you know?” Yan Lingxiang seemed to sense something, curiously asked.

“Yes, Brother, take a look at the stone yourself—I’ll go greet this friend.” Wang Yu nodded and slowly walked toward the masked youth.

Seeing this, Yan Lingxiang paid no mind, rubbing his hands together as he headed toward a particular Chaotic Stone he favored.

“It’s you.”

As Wang Yu approached the masked youth, the man fixed him with a cold stare and spoke.

“Li Daozhi, it’s been a long time. I never thought I’d run into someone from the Southern Continent here.”

“I never imagined I’d meet someone in the Eastern Wastes who knew my origins—and who’s also a Foundation Establishment cultivator?” Li Fengquan’s expression grew odd, yet his tone remained icy.

“I barely managed to break through to Foundation Establishment. But your bloodline power back then was astonishing—I’ll never forget it. I now study under the Bi Shui Palace. Where do you cultivate now?” Wang Yu asked.

“Bi Shui Palace? You certainly understand the value of sheltering under a big tree. I’m merely a lone cultivator now.” Li Fengquan replied, his eyes flickering slightly—he seemed surprised Wang Yu had joined Bi Shui Palace.

“With your talent and bloodline power, you didn’t join any major sect?” Wang Yu was equally astonished.

“I did want to join a major sect, but… hehe…” Li Fengquan let out a hollow, ambiguous laugh.

Wang Yu frowned, about to ask more, when a sweet, lilting voice came from beside them:

“Brother Li, is this Daoist your friend? Why not introduce me?”

Before the words had fully faded, a young woman in a red skirt and green blouse swayed over, her large, watery eyes sweeping over Wang Yu’s face with unmistakable curiosity.

“Sister Gong, this Daoist Wang is no friend of mine—merely someone I once met briefly.” Li Fengquan glanced at the petite woman and replied coldly.

“Sister?” Wang Yu’s gaze fell on the petite woman.

The woman in red and green had fair skin, rosy lips, a face as delicate as a girl’s, a small frame, yet with a curvaceous figure—clearly a childlike face with voluptuous breasts.

“Yes, Brother Fengquan is my grandfather’s disciple, so naturally he’s my senior brother.”

“I’m Gong Mingzhu. May I ask your name and origin, Daoist Wang?” The petite woman’s large eyes swept over Wang Yu’s face several times before she giggled, her voice slightly hoarse—yet the sound sent a shiver through Wang Yu’s spirit, making him nearly answer instinctively.

But the next instant, he snapped back to himself, his face darkening; a faint crystalline glimmer flashed in his pupils, and his vast spiritual sense surged forth as an invisible force, slamming directly into her spiritual sea.

“Ah!”

The petite woman felt her head explode with a deafening roar; her skull throbbed with unbearable pain, and she staggered back two steps, clutching her head.

“You dare hurt me? Li Fengquan, kill him!” Her once-watering eyes now brimmed with bloodshot veins as she glared furiously at Wang Yu, too terrified to approach again, but screamed at the masked youth.

Li Fengquan’s expression shifted slightly, yet he made no move to act; instead, he studied Wang Yu deeply.

In that brief moment, a gray-robed old man with a short beard appeared silently nearby, asking calmly:

“You three have boldness indeed. Don’t you know fighting is strictly forbidden in the Seven Stars Stone Shop? Who struck first?” As he spoke, his gaze swept over the three, and a terrifying spiritual pressure radiated from him—he was a Foundation Establishment late-stage cultivator.

“I didn’t lift a finger—I was just standing here,” Li Fengquan said without changing expression.

“I am a disciple of Bi Shui Palace. This Lady Gong initiated a spiritual technique against me—I merely defended myself,” Wang Yu replied calmly, glancing at the old man.

He remembered Yan Lingxiang’s words: one of the Three Stone Emporiums’ three patrons was a Jin Dan true cultivator of Bi Shui Palace—naming his sect would help.

“Ah, a disciple of Bi Shui Palace? Then why did this Immortal Lady use a spiritual technique inside the Seven Stars Stone Shop? If you cannot give a valid reason, you’ll have to stay with us for a few days.” Upon hearing Wang Yu’s affiliation, the gray-robed old man’s demeanor softened slightly, then turned sharply toward the petite woman.

“When did I use a spiritual technique? Who saw me use one? Are you going to favor him just because he’s from Bi Shui Palace?” Gong Mingzhu roared, gritting her teeth against the pain.

“Your spiritual fluctuations are chaotic—clearly the backlash of a spiritual technique. How dare you lie to me? I’ll have to take you in first.” The old man’s eyes flashed; in his hand appeared an unremarkable wooden ruler.

“Li Fengquan, why are you still standing there? Don’t you want me to summon my grandfather?” Gong Mingzhu screamed at the masked youth without hesitation.

The conflict had naturally drawn the attention of other cultivators in the hall; many turned to stare.

“Wang Shidi, what’s going on?”

Yan Lingxiang, noticing the commotion, called out from afar and strode over.