Dawn had just broken, and the prow sliced through a thin veil of mist. Chen Wuya leaned against the railing, fingers pressed to his lower abdomen, where a scorching sensation still lingered. He closed his eyes for a moment. The Misaligned Force within him was like ashes scattered by the wind, flickering between brightness and darkness.
Mo Feng crouched at the stern, adjusting the mechanism compass as its needle trembled faintly. Bai Zhi stood beneath the mast, one hand resting on her sword hilt as her gaze swept across the sea. She said nothing, but her shoulders were drawn taut.
By the third day at sea, the wind and waves began to rise.
At first, it was merely ripples churning in the distance. Then a black line swelled along the sea's surface and rapidly bore down on them. It stretched higher and higher, becoming a towering wall of water in the blink of an eye, crashing toward the prow.
"Hold steady!" Chen Wuya sprang upright, driving force through his feet.
The instant the massive wave struck the hull, the planks let out a piercing crack. The entire ship was lifted from the water, tilting as it slid toward the crest. Mo Feng stumbled, and the compass flew from his hand. He reached for it, only to be hurled against the cabin wall.
Bai Zhi drew her sword, Sword Qi winding around the mainmast and forcibly wrenching the leaning mast back into place. She looked up toward the wave's crest, her pupils contracting—dozens of cold glints flashed amid the spray, shooting toward them thick as a swarm of locusts.
"Something's there!" she shouted.
Chen Wuya had no time to look closely. On instinct, he mobilized the Misaligned Force within him. The Canglang Art's circulation route ran backward through his meridians, true