Chen Wuya's fingertips were still pressed against the ice, golden light flickering deep within his pupils. His consciousness followed the Misaligned Force downward, sinking into the palace beneath the seafloor cliff. The distorted phantom of a page at the center of the pillar of light slowly revolved, its edges constantly shifting like a scrap of paper in the wind, yet also like a living thing breathing.
Bai Zhi stood half a step behind him, her right hand already resting on her sword hilt. She sensed Chen Wuya's breathing abruptly halt for an instant, followed by a violent rise and fall of his chest. His face turned pale in a flash, fine beads of sweat seeping from his temples.
"What is it?" she asked softly.
Chen Wuya did not answer. A voice rang through his sea of consciousness, hoarse and frigid, like rusted iron scraping across slate.
"Your son won't survive."
The voice drilled straight into his mind. It carried no echo, yet every word was crystal clear. Chen Wuya squeezed his eyes shut, and an infant swaddled in cloth appeared before him, rosy-cheeked and grinning. The next moment, a withered hand reached out of the darkness and clamped around its neck.
"Hand over the Heavenly Machine Scroll, and I'll let him breathe." Blood Without Trace's voice sounded again. "Don't believe me? The child in your woman's womb has been in my hands for three months already. Did you think the Demonic Cult had nothing left but remnant souls? I planted a divided thought in the South Sea's earth veins long ago. This is the moment I've been waiting for."
Chen Wuya's fingers twitched. He tried to raise his hand, only to find his limbs stiff, as though bound by invisible ropes. The child's crying grew louder, mixed with a woman's