The sea fell quiet. The wind had only been still for a short while before the sails slowly swelled again. Chen Wuya stood in the middle of the deck, his left hand still pressed against his left arm. The dark-red pattern no longer throbbed violently, instead rising and falling in a steady rhythm like the tide. He could feel the true qi within him flowing slowly along with that rhythm, faintly echoing the circulation route of the Canglang Art.
He lowered his head and glanced at his chest. The First Island Master's handwritten notes were still tucked inside his clothes, their page edges pressing against his skin and giving off a faint heat. The aura released when the Dragon's Ambergris had floated in the air had yet to dissipate. A delicate fragrance still lingered in the air, like a warm current welling up from the depths of the sea.
He closed his eyes and tried to tune his breathing to the rhythm of the waves. Exhale, inhale—slower, then slower still. The true qi within him began to sink through his meridians, passing through his dantian and flowing down his legs into the soles of his feet. He raised his right foot and lightly stepped forward.
This was no ordinary walk.
It was Near Yet Far.
This movement technique had originally emphasized stepping precisely onto spatial nodes. With one step, the body would drift like smoke. But Chen Wuya had never practiced according to the rules. He had always felt that since the system recognized "wrong" rather than "right," he might as well do the exact opposite.
He deliberately placed his foot where it was not supposed to land, shifting it half an inch off. In that instant, the air seemed to tear open, and the scene before his eyes lurched