The crescent scar on the elder's left arm suddenly twitched violently, as though something were struggling beneath the flesh.
Bai Zhi's gaze locked onto that scar. Her fingers slowly tightened, her knuckles whitening as the sword hilt grew hot in her grip. Her lips moved, and her voice was so soft it was nearly inaudible. "Exactly... like that night."
Chen Wuya immediately noticed something was wrong with her. He did not turn around, but he could feel the change in her aura—not mere vigilance anymore, but surging hatred.
In that instant, the elder moved.
He lunged like an arrow loosed from its bow, his left hand twisted at a grotesque angle, palm facing inward and fingertips hooked back as he went straight for Bai Zhi's throat. The air tore apart with a piercing shriek.
Chen Wuya had no time to think. Misaligned Force instantly flowed backward through his meridians. The system automatically captured the trajectory of his opponent's move, and a twisted diagram of true qi circulation surfaced in his sea of consciousness. Without judging it, he directly reversed the path and fed it into his own right arm.
His right hand shot upward—not to block, but to twist his wrist in the same manner, as though copying the elder's movement while opposing it at every turn.
The instant the two currents of force collided, the elder's body abruptly stiffened.
His own left arm seemed to be controlled by an invisible force. His bones cracked sharply, forcibly folding from before him to behind his back, the entire arm curving toward his spine in a bizarre arc.
He let out a muffled groan and staggered, his attack coming to an abrupt halt.
Bai Zhi's pupils contracted sharply. "That's the Bone-Dislocation Hand!"
Her voice was tight with shock and disbelief. This technique