This boy truly had an extraordinary identity.
He was the son of the Qing family master — one of the Nine Great Families — and his name was Qing Xuantian.
"Xuantian, what makes you so certain that the demonic cultivator who appeared within the Yuan Region is connected to the Yuan family?" the middle-aged man asked Qing Xuantian.
It turned out that the warning he had given the Demon Subduing Sect Master had not been the middle-aged man's own deduction, but rather Qing Xuantian's.
"Just a guess," Qing Xuantian said.
He was remarkably calm — even somewhat cold. And though his features were still youthful, there was none of the innocence or naivety one would expect of a child in his bearing or his eyes. What lay within was instead a depth that defied comprehension.
Facing such a Qing Xuantian, the middle-aged man simply offered a faint smile.
After all, he was Qing Xuantian's uncle — he had watched the boy grow up since birth. Qing Xuantian had been different from ordinary people from the moment he was born, so he knew full well that this boy, not yet eleven years old, could not be compared to any child of the same age.
Because this was a genius — a true genius.
"Uncle, you should head back," Qing Xuantian said suddenly.
Hearing this, the middle-aged man was taken aback. "Xuantian, what did you say?"
"Uncle, go on back. I'll handle this matter on my own," Qing Xuantian said.
"Xuantian, what kind of joke is that? Didn't you ask me to bring you here precisely so I could protect you?" the middle-aged man asked.
"No. The reason I told you about this was so you could help me leave the city. On my own, my father would never let me out," Qing Xuantian explained.
Only then did the middle-aged man realize that Qing Xuantian had simply been using his status as a way to slip out of the city. But rather than feel the slightest resentment, he grew all the more concerned.
"Xuantian, but I already know the purpose of your journey. That item is a legendary artifact — if it truly exists, it will be extraordinarily dangerous. How can I rest easy knowing you're going there alone?"
"Forgive me, Uncle," Qing Xuantian said.
"Huh?" The middle-aged man looked at him, confused, unable to understand why Qing Xuantian would say such a thing.
Whoosh—
In the very next instant, Qing Xuantian struck. His small palm shot straight toward the middle-aged man's shoulder.
That little hand looked no different from that of any ordinary child — delicate and tender. But as it pushed forward, even the air around it trembled violently.
In fact, a flash of alarm actually surfaced in the middle-aged man's eyes.
Facing Qing Xuantian's attack, the middle-aged man dared not show the slightest carelessness. A violent gust of wind kicked up beneath his feet as his speed surged. He planted a step backward, and his body twisted to the side.
Qing Xuantian's frontal palm strike had been dodged.
But the moment the middle-aged man evaded, Qing Xuantian's wrist flicked, and that palm swept sideways toward him — even faster this time. The middle-aged man had no time to dodge.
With a muffled thud, the middle-aged man was blasted several meters away.
"Xuantian, you..."