Psychic Master? What a Coincidence, So Am I

Psychic Master!

Those two words exploded in Lin Feng's mind.

No wonder!

No wonder his movement was so bizarre, and he could interfere with Lin Feng's perception!

So he wasn't using some strange footwork at all—it was a far more mysterious ability.

A Psychic Master!

Psychic Masters cultivated mental power exclusively, able to manipulate objects with their will and kill without a trace.

At the same rank, a single Psychic Master could easily crush three to five Martial Artists of equal level.

Because their attacks were mental strikes that Martial Artists had no way to defend against!

At this moment, as Uncle Fu pointed down, Lin Feng felt an invisible, colossal force pressing in from all directions.

His body felt like a mountain was crushing it, his bones groaning under the strain, his legs going weak as he nearly dropped to his knees.

Even more terrifying, a sharp, stabbing pain shot straight into his mind.

It was like countless steel needles madly churning through his brain.

His consciousness began to blur, the scene before him twisting and overlapping.

"Give up resisting."

Uncle Fu's voice echoed in his mind like a curse.

"In my Psychic Field, you're nothing but a lamb to the slaughter. Your will, your body—I will dominate them all."

Lin Feng clenched his teeth, biting his tongue until it bled, a coppery sweetness spreading through his mouth.

The searing pain barely kept him lucid.

He couldn't kneel!

If he did, his will would shatter completely, and he'd become the man's puppet.

"System!"

Lin Feng roared in his mind.

"I want to allocate points!"

His only hope now was the system!

Since the enemy used mental attacks, he'd fight back with mental strength!

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[Host: Lin Feng]
[Mental: 10]
[Realm: Martial Artist, Fourth Stage (0/400)]
[Technique: Basic Body Tempering Art (10/10)]
[Martial Skill: Mountain-Breaking Slash (1/1000), Lost Trace Step (1/2000)]
[Talent: Steel of the Blade (134/500)]
[Martial Path Points: 750]

750 Martial Path Points.

Lin Feng's mind raced.

His Mental stat was currently 10, at an ordinary person's level.

To fight a Psychic Master, 10 was utterly useless.

Add points! Pour them in!

"100 points into Mental!"

Hum—

A warm current surged into his brain, and his consciousness, which had been churned into chaos, steadied in an instant.

The stabbing pain from those needles faded by more than half.

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[Mental: 110]
[Martial Path Points: 650]

Uncle Fu frowned slightly.

He sensed it—the prey's Mental Barrier had suddenly thickened.

"Interesting."

Uncle Fu increased his psychic output, unleashing an even greater mental pressure that crashed down like a tidal wave.

Lin Feng had barely caught his breath when this force drove his knees to buckle again.

Not enough! Far from enough!

"650 points, all in!"

A second surge of warmth flooded in, ten times fiercer than the first.

In Lin Feng's mind, something was being unlocked.

A door that had never opened before.

Behind that door lay an entirely new world of perception.

[Congratulations, host. Your Psychic Power has broken through 500, awakening Psychic Power. You have become a First-Rank Psychokinetic Master!]

[Psychic Power: First-Rank Psychokinetic Master (260/1000)]

[Martial Path Points: 0]

System notifications popped up one after another, but Lin Feng had no time to look.

Because his perception had undergone a earth-shattering change.

He could "see."

In the air, strands of Psychic Power, invisible to the naked eye, extended from Uncle Fu's fingertips, weaving into a massive net that enveloped him entirely.

This was the Psychic Field.

Lin Feng jerked his head up.

The force pressing down on him suddenly lightened.

It wasn't that Uncle Fu had let up—it was that his perception had changed.

That great net woven from Psychic Power, in his mental perception, was like a thin membrane.

Flaws everywhere, gaps everywhere.

Uncle Fu's fingers trembled slightly.

His expression finally shifted.

"You!"

He spat out just one word, then clamped his mouth shut.

He sensed it.

The psychic fluctuation erupting from his prey was stronger than his own.

Not just a little stronger—a lot stronger.

This was impossible.

Uncle Fu had lived most of his life and never seen such a thing.

A person breaking through on the spot to become a Psychokinetic Master, and with Psychic Power stronger than his—a Psychokinetic Master who had trained for over a decade?

But he was an old hand, and his reaction was lightning-fast.

Almost the instant he detected the anomaly, Uncle Fu retreated three steps, flipped his palm, and three flying daggers shot out from his sleeve.

The three daggers hung in the air, wrapped in Psychic Power, their tips all aimed at Lin Feng.

"Psychic Flying Dagger!"

Lin Feng recognized the move.

The classic combat style of a Psychokinetic Master—using Psychic Power to control weapons and attack from a distance.

The speed, angle, and force of these three daggers were all governed by Psychic Power.

Impossible to defend against, impossible to dodge.

"Whoosh!"

The first dagger shot out, heading straight for Lin Feng's throat.

Fast.

Extremely fast.

But in Lin Feng's mental perception, the layer of Psychic Power wrapped around the dagger was crystal clear.

He did something incredibly bold.

He didn't dodge.

His Psychic Power charged straight into it.

The dagger flew to within half a foot of his face and stopped.

The metal blade trembled violently in the air, emitting a buzzing sound.

The tip pointed at Lin Feng's throat, but could advance no further.

Two streams of Psychic Power clashed on the dagger.

Uncle Fu's Psychic Power wrapped around the outer layer, pushing forward with all its might.

Lin Feng's Psychic Power seeped in from the inside, holding it firmly in place.

This kind of contest didn't require any flashy techniques—it was purely a test of whose psychic power was more formidable.

And Lin Feng had just stacked his psychic power to the level of a First-Rank Psychokinetic Master.

"Break."

Lin Feng spat out a single word.

His Psychic Power suddenly intensified, crushing the mental imprint Uncle Fu had attached to the flying dagger.

Control of the dagger instantly changed hands.

Uncle Fu's face twisted in shock.

"Second one! Third one!"

He gritted his teeth and drove the remaining two flying daggers in simultaneously.

One aimed at the waist and ribs, the other at the back of the head.

Years of combat experience allowed him to still execute a clever combination even at a disadvantage.

But it was useless.

Lin Feng's psychic power spread out, its coverage far exceeding Uncle Fu's Psychic Field.

The moment the two daggers rushed in, Lin Feng's psychic power wrapped around them.

Uncle Fu fought desperately to regain control.

Lin Feng's Psychic Power crushed straight through.

Pfft!

Uncle Fu let out a muffled groan as two streams of blood trickled from his nostrils.

His psychic power was forcibly shattered, his mental domain suffering backlash, and he staggered back several steps.

All three flying daggers hovered in front of Lin Feng.

Their tips turned, all pointing at Uncle Fu.

The air fell silent for two seconds.

Uncle Fu wiped the blood from his nose, staring at Lin Feng, his chest heaving violently.

"A First-Rank Psychokinetic Master—how can you be a First-Rank Psychokinetic Master?"

Lin Feng didn't answer.

He didn't want to answer, and there was no need to answer a dead man.

Under his Psychic Power's drive, the three flying daggers shot out.

They lined up in a straight row, charging head-on.

Against absolute power, any technique was superfluous.

Uncle Fu strained every fiber to erect a Mental Barrier.

The first flying dagger slammed into it.

The barrier cracked.

The second and third daggers pierced through Uncle Fu's chest.

Blood gushed from the wounds. Uncle Fu looked down at the short blade embedded in his flesh and bone, his lips twitching a few times.

"I've trained my psychic power for over a decade, and I lose to a brat?"

His body slowly collapsed, his eyes filled with unwillingness and confusion.

Even in death, he couldn't figure it out.

Lin Feng let out a long breath of stale air, his legs going weak as he nearly collapsed to the ground.

It wasn't from injury—it was from sheer exhaustion.

The freshly awakened Psychic Power had been used up all at once, and now his head was buzzing, his temples throbbing violently.

But he couldn't rest yet.

"N-no... don't kill me!"

In the corner, Young Master Zhao scrambled backward.

He had watched with his own eyes as Uncle Fu was run through by his own flying daggers.

Uncle Fu, one of the Zhao Family's strongest shadow guards, was dead just like that.

And the man who killed him was walking toward him.

Young Master Zhao's back hit the wall, leaving him nowhere to retreat.

"I'm a direct descendant of the Zhao Family! Do you know the Zhao Family? Their influence in Qing Prefecture..."

"The Zhao Family, huh?" Lin Feng walked up to him and crouched down.

Young Master Zhao nodded frantically: "Yes! The Zhao Family! The Qing Prefecture Zhao Family! Let me go, and the Zhao Family can give you anything—weapons, pills, martial arts, whatever you want!"

"Those weren't the words you said just now when you told him to kill me."

Young Master Zhao's face was as white as paper.

"That—that was Uncle Fu acting on his own! It had nothing to do with me!"

Lin Feng shook his head.

He wasn't a bloodthirsty man, but he wasn't stupid either.

This Young Master Zhao already knew he had killed a Psychic Master, and knew he himself was also a Psychic Master.

If that information ever leaked, the trouble it would bring would be endless.

"I'll kowtow to you! I'll kowtow to you, is that enough?!"

Young Master Zhao really did kneel, his forehead thudding against the ground.

Lin Feng watched him, his mind racing through the possibilities.

If a direct-line scion of the Zhao Family died in the front-line ruins, how would the Zhao Family investigate?

Would it trace back to him?

No.

Not as long as there were no traces left behind.

Lin Feng took a deep breath and reached out his hand.

Young Master Zhao thought Lin Feng was going to help him up and hurriedly reached out to grab it.

A surge of Psychic Power blasted straight into his mind.

Young Master Zhao's body went rigid, his eyes bulging wide, his pupils scattering.

The next second, he crumpled silently to the ground, no longer breathing.

Psychic Strangling.

No external wounds, no bloodstains.

When the cause of death was investigated, at worst it would be ruled as psychic backlash or heart rupture from extreme terror.

Lin Feng stood up and looked around.

This abandoned outpost was itself a ruined building left over from the war.

Cracks ran across every wall, and large sections of the ceiling had collapsed.

He needed to create an "accident."

Uncle Fu's body had wounds from the flying knives—that was the biggest flaw.

Lin Feng pulled the flying knives out, wiped them clean on Uncle Fu's clothes, and tucked them back into Uncle Fu's sleeve.

Then he dragged Uncle Fu's corpse to a corner and positioned it as if it had been crushed by debris.

Next came the critical step.

He channeled his blood energy into his fist, aimed at the weakest crack in the load-bearing wall, and punched with all his might.

"Boom—"

The crack spread rapidly, rubble raining down.

Not enough.

A second punch.

"Boom!"

The load-bearing wall snapped completely, bringing half the ceiling down with it, burying most of Uncle Fu's body.

As for Young Master Zhao's corpse, he dragged it to another corner and covered its upper half with broken stones.

Lin Feng stepped back to the doorway and gave the scene one final inspection.

Two bodies, buried under the collapsed building.

The wounds were hidden by rubble, and with the dust and dirt of the ruins, no one would notice anything unusual for a while.

Even if they did, their first thought would be that the crack had collapsed and crushed them.

In a place like the front lines, this kind of accident happened almost every day.

No one would suspect a thing.

Lin Feng nodded, turned, and left.

He didn't go out the front door.

He slipped out through a blasted gap at the back of the outpost, using the cover of night to move quickly through the cluster of ruins.

After awakening his Psychic Power, his perception range had expanded dramatically.

Every movement within a hundred meters was under his control.

Two patrols passed nearby. He sensed them in advance, hid behind a pile of scrap metal, and waited until they were far gone.

A quarter-hour later, Lin Feng returned to the Sixth Defense Line's garrison zone.

The camp was quiet; most soldiers had already turned in.

Only a few night-watch sentries paced back and forth.

Lin Feng slipped into his tent through a side passage and lay down on the cot.

Fatigue washed over him like a tide.

Tonight's exertion had been immense.

First tailing that Young Master Zhao, then going head-to-head with Uncle Fu, a Psychokinetic Master.

His psychic energy had been nearly wrung dry, his head throbbing as if it might split.

But Lin Feng didn't sleep right away.

He closed his eyes and called up the System Panel.

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[Host: Lin Feng]
[Psyche: First-Rank Psychokinetic Master (260/1000)]
[Realm: Martial Artist, Fourth Stage (0/400)]
[Art: Basic Body Tempering Art (10/10)]
[Martial Skill: Mountain-Breaking Slash (1/1000), Lost Trace Step (1/2000)]
[Talent: Steel of the Blade (134/500)]
[Martial Path Points: 0]

His Martial Path Points were zeroed out.

Seven hundred and fifty points all poured into psychic power, traded for a life and the identity of a Psychokinetic Master.

Was it a loss?

No.

He'd nearly lost his life—what was there to talk about losing?

Lin Feng turned over, his thoughts still churning.

He was a Psychokinetic Master now.

This identity absolutely could not be exposed.

At least until he had enough strength to protect himself, no one could know.

Psychokinetic Masters were far too rare in the Martial Artist world. Once exposed, he'd either be courted by major powers or marked as a threat and eliminated outright.

Neither outcome did he want to face.

Keep this as a trump card, reveal it only at the critical moment.

With that thought, Lin Feng finally closed his eyes.

The next morning, the assembly horn jolted Lin Feng from his sleep.

He rubbed his temples as he got up; his psychic energy had recovered some, but his head still felt heavy.

Stepping out of the tent, the sunlight made him squint.

While forming up, the veteran beside him elbowed him in the ribs.

"Heard the news? A Private Rift collapsed last night, crushed two people to death."

Lin Feng's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained stone-still.

"Who?"

"Not sure. Doesn't seem like they were from our line. Word is, outsiders—one brought a servant. Went wandering around that godforsaken place in the dead of night, got caught in the cave-in, buried alive."

The veteran clicked his tongue. "Rich folks asking for it, coming to the front for thrills. Guess they got their fill, huh?"

Lin Feng grunted and didn't ask further.

Seems nothing unusual was found at the scene.

But he had a faint feeling this wouldn't end so easily.

A direct descendant of the Zhao Family had died on the front lines.

No matter the cause of death, the Zhao Family would send people to investigate.

When that happened...

"Everyone, attention!"

A sharp shout from ahead cut off Lin Feng's thoughts.

It was a burly, broad-shouldered man with a voice loud enough to flip a tent.

"Orders from above! The Sixth Defense Line is now on second-level combat readiness! All leaves canceled—stand by at all times!"

A stir ran through the ranks.

"Second-level readiness? What's going on?"

The burly man wore a grim expression. "Frontline scouts report that the Northern Wasteland beast tide will reach the Sixth Defense Line within three days."