Wei Yang sensed something was off in an instant.
The voice in Qiao Jiajin’s mind was deafeningly loud, and the imagined punch already included the image of hitting him.
A wave of danger suddenly surged in Wei Yang’s heart. He felt as if he had encountered a real killer. Before fear could take hold, his pitchfork was already thrusting forward.
He had a strong premonition that if he didn’t act first this time, he’d truly be sent flying.
The pitchfork shot out like a spear, aiming straight for Qiao Jiajin’s abdomen. Wei Yang deliberately gripped the very end of the shaft—if his opponent showed even a hint of dodging, he’d instantly adjust the angle of the strike. Countless people had died to this very move.
“Mind-reading” was still “mind-reading,” the ultimate “Echo” capable of suppressing all combat techniques.
Just as the pitchfork was about to pierce Qiao Jiajin’s stomach, Wei Yang realized—no thoughts were echoing in his ears.
“Kid… you’re not dodging…?”
The pitchfork lunged forward, but at the last moment, when it was barely an inch away, Qiao Jiajin expressionlessly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the fatal strike.
Wei Yang stared in disbelief at Qiao Jiajin’s eyes. At such a critical moment, this young man had thought of nothing.
His body seemed to move on its own—his brain had issued no commands at all.
In the next instant, Qiao Jiajin took two rapid steps forward, closing the distance between them. He lowered his right fist to his waist, reached out with his left hand to grip Wei Yang’s collar, steadying him, then launched his right fist upward like a rocket.
“You—!”
Before Wei Yang could finish, his chin took the full force of the blow. His teeth clashed violently with a loud crack.
Darkness swallowed his vision. Before the pain even registered, his feet left the ground. The murky red sky filled his sight, and after what felt like two or three seconds, something slammed into his back, kicking up a cloud of dust.
A mix of searing pain and dizziness slowly overwhelmed Wei Yang. In a panic, he reached out and realized he was sprawled on the filthy ground.
How many years had it been since someone last hit him?
Since mastering “mind-reading,” this was the first time he’d been genuinely knocked flying.
It took nearly twenty seconds before Wei Yang could barely make out his surroundings again. The dull yellow sun in the sky seemed to flicker faintly.
“The sky here is really beautiful…” Blood slowly trickled from the corner of his mouth. “This song, paired with the sky… it’s mesmerizing.”
“Farmer boy.” Qiao Jiajin kicked the pitchfork aside, then crouched next to him. “Hear my thoughts?”
“I heard… but couldn’t dodge…” Wei Yang let out a bitter laugh from the ground, feeling his teeth loosened. “What a punch…”
“That punch was nothing.” Qiao Jiajin said. “Compared to the holes you left in those ‘natives,’ it’s light.”
“Seems like I’ve taken your punch before… heh… Now that I’m stronger, I managed to dodge a few times…” Wei Yang grinned. “Guess losing memories makes you weaker after all…”
“You’ve got it wrong.” Qiao Jiajin smirked. “If I were in my own body, you’d have been down with the first punch.”
“You—”
“This body doesn’t suit me.” Qiao Jiajin said. “The first two punches were just me adjusting—not your skill. Got it, *dipshit*?”
Seeing Qiao Jiajin take Wei Yang down, Chen Junnan glanced back at Qi Xia and gave him a look. The two then stepped into the farm.
This madman was undeniably dangerous. Not only had he set up lethal traps, but he also wielded a deadly pitchfork. Combined with his “mind-reading,” ordinary participants stood little chance of surviving.
As Qi Xia and Chen Junnan approached, Qiao Jiajin nodded at them. “What’s next?”
“First, put your clothes back on,” Qi Xia said.
“Yeah, Lao Qiao,” Chen Junnan sighed. “When are you gonna kick this habit of stripping mid-fight? You think you’re Xu Chu or something?”
“Uh…” Qiao Jiajin awkwardly walked over to pick up his shirt, dusted it off, and put it back on. “You might not get it, but back then, clothes were expensive. If they got slashed, I couldn’t afford new ones. So I’d take them off before fights. Just became a habit…”
“What kind of hellish logic is that?” Chen Junnan blinked. “Clothes get slashed and can’t be worn, but if your flesh gets slashed, it just heals on its own?”
“Funny, but yeah. Flesh can heal—clothes can’t.” Qiao Jiajin shrugged. “Anyway, this body’s fine, but it’s not built for street fights.”
While they talked, Qi Xia had already approached Wei Yang. Their eyes locked.
At that moment, not only did Wei Yang frown, but Qi Xia also sensed something off.
“Wei Yang…?” Qi Xia murmured.
“Ha… haha…” Wei Yang’s lips twisted into an ugly grin as he stared into Qi Xia’s eyes. “Wouldn’t dare. How could I be a ‘sheep’ in front of you? *You’re* the sheep… haha… sheep…”
“I am a sheep,” Qi Xia nodded. “So you’re one too?”
“Of course I am…” Wei Yang’s eyes widened with laughter. “You’re terrifying… remembering nothing, yet figuring everything out…”
“You really are a sheep.” Qi Xia pressed. “Which sheep are you? From when?”
“Qi Xia… hahahaha…” The longer Wei Yang stared, the more his laughter spiraled. “What’s this? Fraudster? Hahahaha…”
“What did you say?”
“You’ve really outdone yourself… To escape this hellhole, you didn’t even spare *yourself*?” Wei Yang spat blood on the ground as he slowly got up. “Back then, you kicked me out first because you feared I’d hear your plans… And now you come to me willingly? How ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Qi Xia grabbed Wei Yang’s collar. “I’ve dared to lock eyes with ‘Tian She’—why would I fear your mind-reading?”
“Hahaha!” Wei Yang laughed wildly. “What kind of trash is ‘Tian She’? Could *he* ever see through you?”
“So you think *you* can?” Qi Xia’s lips curled slightly—he’d found the flaw in Wei Yang’s logic again.
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