A column of water shot into the sky, black blood twisting into words in midair.
Chen Wuya raised a hand to block it, but the misaligned force he had just gathered in his palm snapped apart. His arm sank, his knees pressed into the sand. His meridians felt as though red-hot wires had been driven through them, twitching with pain.
Bai Zhi leaned against a reef, her fingertips twitching.
She wanted to stand, but her legs had no strength. Watching Chen Wuya's back, her throat tightened.
Those words—"You can't win"—still floated on the water, not yet dispersed.
A tremor came from beneath the sea, heavier than before. Spiderweb cracks spread across the ice, and the Nightmare Beast raised its head from the depths. One eye had already opened, black as ink, without a trace of light.
Chen Wuya gritted his teeth and shoved the Mystic Ice Lotus tighter against his chest. He braced himself on the ground with his left hand and slowly raised his right, preparing to stake everything on one final blow.
But he could not draw up his true qi.
His dantian was empty, and the misaligned force had broken midway. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his fingers trembling.
Just as he was about to collapse, the sea wind changed.
A cold current blew in from the far north, carrying the scent of snow.
A silver line appeared on the distant sea, closing in at terrifying speed. It was not a wave, but frost. A thin layer of ice spread across the water's surface, swift as lightning, and wherever it passed, the purple glow receded.
Chen Wuya looked up.
At the end of the silver line, a woman came riding the waves. She wore white robes, her long hair tied into a high bun, an ice crystal