Yang Pan went from furious rage to rigid stillness in no more than a single breath.
He sensed the killing intent emanating from Wang Xuan.
Unfortunately, his martial talent was truly lacking. Over the years, he had relied entirely on pills to pile his way into the Martial Master realm, and he could not sense what level Wang Xuan's cultivation had reached.
All he felt was that killing intent bearing the shadow of death, crushing him until he could barely breathe, as though his heart had been clenched in a fist.
He wanted to retreat. He wanted to call for help. Yet his legs felt filled with lead, and his throat seemed gripped by an invisible hand.
The spring breeze outside Heaven-Bearing Gate blew over, and it should have been warm.
Yet as it blew across Yang Pan's face, it felt as piercing as a cold wind.
Yang Pan put on a fierce front while trembling inside, exhausting all his strength as he roared, "Eighteenth Brother! Are you trying to murder your elder brother? Father Emperor will not spare you! Neither will the people of the realm! The Confucian Circle will nail you to the pillar of shame!"
Wang Xuan slapped Yang Pan across the face.
The sound was crisp and loud.
The slap did not look like much, but its force was absurdly heavy. Yang Pan spun through the air like a top, rotating three or four times before crashing into the vermilion-lacquered gates of Heaven-Bearing Gate with a bang.
Yang Pan slid down the gate and collapsed on the ground. Two of his front teeth had been knocked out, and blood ran from the corner of his mouth, mixing with dust and leaving him in a miserable state.
He clutched his face in a daze for quite a