Chapter Thirty-Four: Concealing One’s True Strength

Thunder rumbled as the heavy metal doors swung open.

A cacophony of clanking and rattling greeted Yang Ye as he entered. Before his eyes stretched a vast prison hall. The inmates within wore specially crafted metal armor on their upper bodies and heavy shackles on their feet. The metallic clamor came from the movement of these prisoners.

“Inspector Ye, this is Cell Block One. Everyone here is at the late planetary stage,” introduced the prison guard who had escorted Yang Ye and Long Xiaoqing. The guard’s name was Sun Hao.

“Thank you for your trouble,” Yang Ye replied calmly, striding through the doorway with Long Xiaoqing at his side.

Sun Hao followed them in without hesitation.

Hundreds of inmates turned their heads to stare at the unfamiliar arrivals. Yang Ye walked slowly, sweeping his gaze over the crowd. Most of them were middle-aged, some with faces etched by age, looking to be in their sixties or older. There were women among them as well—receiving no special treatment, clad in iron armor tailored to their forms.

The prisoners’ iron armor was custom-made, its fine needles piercing beneath the skin to seal their meridians, rendering them unable to use the star energy within them. Yet cultivators’ bodies were far hardier than ordinary folk; even burdened with dozens of kilograms of iron, they moved with ease.

As Yang Ye and Long Xiaoqing entered, Sun Hao raised his voice, “Listen up, everyone! This is Inspector Ye Tianzu of the Star Martial Administration Bureau, Northeast Division. He’s here to pick some of you to serve him outside. Whoever wants out, step forward!”

A wave of excitement swept through the inmates, and nearly all of them surged forward, eyes brimming with hope. For them, locked away with no means to cultivate, this existence was a fate worse than death.

Yang Ye’s expression remained impassive as he surveyed the eager faces. Most here had violated the laws set by the Star Martial Administration, yet their crimes had not warranted death. Corruption within the Bureau meant not a few were wrongly imprisoned. But Zhu Xiong, the warden, paid such details no mind; as long as the paperwork dictated their sentence, none would be released early.

Yang Ye cared even less about their innocence or guilt. He hadn’t even bothered to read their case files. Good or bad, if they were useful, that was enough.

“My requirements. First,” Yang Ye said coolly, “once outside, you will obey my every command. Anyone who tries to run will be killed by my hand.”

“No problem!” came the immediate reply.

“That’s right! As long as we’re free, we’ll do whatever you say!”

“I want out! If I stay here any longer I’ll go mad!”

A chorus of desperate voices erupted.

“Silence!” Sun Hao barked over the commotion, and gradually the noise died down.

When quiet returned, Yang Ye’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Second requirement,” he declared, “you’ll need to withstand three moves from my wife and still be able to get up. Only then will you be eligible.”

Wife?

The prisoners turned in astonishment to Long Xiaoqing. She looked awfully young.

Long Xiaoqing folded her arms and stepped into the middle, smiling sweetly. “Only a hundred spots, you know!”

“This isn’t fair!” protested a burly prisoner. “We’re in iron armor and can’t use our star energy—how are we supposed to beat you?”

Yang Ye turned to Sun Hao. “If you would, please remove his restraints.”

Sun Hao nodded. “Anyone who wants to try, come to me to have your armor unlocked.”

“I’ll go!” The burly man stepped forward at once.

Sun Hao produced a prepared key, inserted it into the chest plate’s lock, and twisted hard. With a loud click, the armor opened. He then removed the shackles.

Finally free, the man clenched his fists, a surge of powerful star energy radiating from within him.

The energy was robust—Yang Ye judged that the man, given enough power, could break through to the stellar realm at any moment, with a fair chance of success.

“My name is Zhou Hun. Please, show me your skill,” he said, flexing his muscles and grinning at Long Xiaoqing.

In a blur, Long Xiaoqing appeared before him, her fist striking toward his chest with lightning speed. Zhou Hun could not dodge; her punch landed squarely on his chest.

With a muffled explosion, he was sent flying. Long Xiaoqing did not pause. She leapt into the air, brought her leg down hard on his back, then twisted midair and landed another blow to his abdomen.

With a heavy crash, Zhou Hun slammed into the aluminum-plated floor.

Long Xiaoqing’s speed was astonishing—like a flash of red lightning. Many onlookers could not even see her movements.

Zhou Hun spat a mouthful of black blood, gritted his teeth, and struggled to his feet.

Yang Ye nodded approvingly. “Zhou Hun, congratulations. You’ve passed. From now on, you’ll lead one of my squads.”

Zhou Hun bowed with cupped fists to both Yang Ye and Long Xiaoqing. “Thank you, Inspector Ye! Thank you... Lady Ye!” His gesture was ancient, exuding a spirit of heroism.

Why thank Long Xiaoqing? Because her three strikes had just broken open the meridians that had long been sealed within him. Though injured, a few days’ rest would heal him.

Seeing Zhou Hun regain his freedom, the rest of the prisoners crowded around Sun Hao, pleading for their restraints to be unlocked.

Sun Hao, ever methodical, made them line up in order.

The hall echoed with the sound of bodies hitting the floor—again and again.

Each time, Long Xiaoqing unleashed three rapid strikes. At her blinding speed, none could resist.

By midday, of the more than four hundred inmates in Cell Block One, all but a dozen or so had lined up to try. Yet only fifty-two managed to withstand three blows and rise again.

Yang Ye had never intended to take a full hundred. Those who did not meet his standards, he left behind.

Once the trial ended, Yang Ye and Long Xiaoqing did not linger, but led the fifty-two chosen out of Xiajing Prison.

No sooner had they stepped beyond the gates than one of the newly freed, an aged man among them, burst out laughing.

A wave of searing star energy radiated from him. Yang Ye remembered him well—among those struck by Long Xiaoqing, he alone had not coughed blood.

His name was Xue Peng.

The surge of his aura startled the others, who hastily stepped aside.

Finishing his laughter, Xue Peng looked back at Yang Ye and Long Xiaoqing with smug delight. “You two youngsters never guessed, did you? Before I was locked up, I used a secret art to conceal my cultivation. Now I’m free! Once I’ve settled my old scores, I’ll be back to thank you both properly!”

With that, Xue Peng turned and strode away.