His concealment was not always hanging by a thread like Yang Yan's. It was more composed, and more solemn. He even had the leisure to come up for a drink in a cloak.
This meant he ordinarily lived in a safe, stable environment, without having to worry constantly about pursuit by the authorities as Yang Yan did. At the same time, however, he valued this concealed identity no less than Yang Yan valued his own.
When the conflict erupted and exposed him to everyone's gaze, Yang Yan had clearly seen his deeply furrowed brow.
Then what if, at this moment, he pretended he had already seen through him?
When he broke with his earlier behavior, no longer trying to hold the old man there but turning to flee instead, would the old man dare let him leave? Even with only three parts suspicion, the old bastard would never dare take that gamble!
Now the youth's conjecture had been confirmed. He grinned and fled back as fast as he could.
The old man rushed onto the corridor. A sweep of his eagle eyes locked onto the figure fleeing desperately to the left. At the same time, his foot pushed off the railing. Without slowing, he cut sideways, and in the blink of an eye, he had all but reached the youth's back.
But just then, they reached a corner, and the youth turned into it. The old man changed direction again, his feet never touching the ground throughout, truly seeming to fly above the corridor.
Ahead, the youth plunged into a small room. He charged in without the slightest pause.
The instant he entered, an explosive sword strike came from the left.
The power of this strike posed no threat to him, but he had already seen the youth's other hand