The stele was still trembling, and the hum from underground was growing more urgent. Chen Wuya's palm remained pressed against its surface, his fingertips sensing the faint heat seeping from the cracks. Rather than pull his hand away, he slowly pressed Misaligned Force into it.
Bai Zhi stood to his left. Her sword had already returned to its sheath, yet her fingers never left the hilt. She stared at the shattered woods ahead without shifting her gaze. Mo Feng crouched on the right, his mechanism case open, a bronze plate held to his ear as he recorded some kind of frequency fluctuation.
"This sound is wrong," Mo Feng said quietly. "It isn't a power supply. It's a summoning array."
The moment he finished speaking, the underbrush shook violently. More than a dozen men in black charged out from all directions. Their footsteps were heavy, their knees bending slightly each time they landed, as though they carried something on their backs. They swiftly formed a circle, trapping the three of them in the middle.
The leader was tall and thin, with his left eye covered by black cloth. His right arm was wrapped in talisman strips, and he gripped a tattered banner in his hand. The banner was dark red, its edges charred black, as if it had been burned and then forcibly stitched back together. He raised it and gave it a fierce wave.
"Avenge the Cult Leader!"
His voice was hoarse, yet carried a piercing force. The others immediately dropped to their knees, bracing themselves with both hands against the ground, their foreheads touching the earth. The Blood Banner swept through the air in an arc, and its surface suddenly glowed red.
Chen Wuya frowned. He sensed an unusual energy fluctuation—not from martial arts, nor from true qi being