Chen Wuya stood atop the divination stall's table, sunlight falling across his shoulders as the blue cloth strap fluttered in the wind. Lin Xiao and Xie Yun stood on either side, sword tips lowered to the ground, their breathing much heavier than before. In the exchange just now, they had gained not the slightest advantage; instead, they had been forced back again and again.
But they had not left.
Lin Xiao stared at Chen Wuya, fire burning in his eyes. He refused to believe that a man expelled from the academy and scraping by through running a stall could actually see through the flaws they had spent three years training to hide.
"Again." His voice was low, pressed down until it was barely audible, yet every word was clear.
Xie Yun did not answer, but his grip on his sword tightened slightly. The two stepped forward at the same time. This time, they did not rush to seize the initiative. Instead, they advanced slowly, their sword edges weaving into a net as the faint sound of wind rose with their momentum—this was precisely the opening stance of the Qingfeng Sect's joint attack technique, Twin Stars Piercing the Moon.
Chen Wuya gently rolled his wrist.
Misaligned Force circulated through his body—not fast, but steady. He did not hurry to attack. Instead, he smiled. "How many times have you practiced this formation?"
Lin Xiao snorted coldly. "Cut the crap!"
Before his voice had even faded, the twin swords had arrived.
One high and one low, sealing off every route above and below; one from the left and one from the right, locking down every avenue of escape. The common folk had long since retreated, daring only to peek out from behind doors and windows. This strike was several times fiercer than before. An ordinary martial artist would probably not even have time to react.
But Chen Wuya moved.
He did not retreat or leap into the air. Instead, he took one step forward, his whole body rising and falling as though he were riding waves. When his left foot landed, it angled outward, while his right shoulder drew inward. His body tilted so badly that he seemed on the verge of falling. Yet in that instant of apparent imbalance, he suddenly twisted at the waist and slipped past the two sword edges like a whirlwind.
Lin Xiao's pupils contracted.
Their swords had clearly sealed off every angle, yet this man... had actually slipped through the gap?
When Chen Wuya landed, his back was to them. His footing was not yet steady, but he abruptly turned around. His right hand spread wide, palm facing the sky. Misaligned Force surged straight from his dantian to his fingertips, giving off a faint crackling sound.
"Do you know why you always miss me?" he asked softly. "Because before you draw your swords, your bodies move first."
Xie Yun's expression shifted slightly.
This was the most basic of basic skills—when the intent moved, the form followed. Yet the man before them claimed that their bodies moved first, before their swords did.
"What nonsense are you spouting!" Lin Xiao roared and charged again.
Chen Wuya did not answer. He tapped the ground with his toe and met him once more. This time, he did not dodge. Instead, he raised his hand to block. Crossing his arms, he poured Misaligned Force into the outer sides of his forearms and took Lin Xiao's sword head-on.
With a clang, sparks flickered.
Lin Xiao felt his tiger's mouth tremble violently and was actually jolted half a step backward. He widened his eyes. "What technique are you using?"
"I told you—it's your problem." Chen Wuya shook his wrist. "When you practice swordsmanship, you emphasize 'a straight heart and a straight body,' but every move you make is just drawing a gourd by following your master's model. How high to raise your shoulder, how to place your feet—everything has been set by rules. But when has real combat ever had fixed forms?"
Xie Yun gritted his teeth and swept his sword across.
Chen Wuya turned aside to evade it. His left hand followed the motion and caught the spine of Xie Yun's sword. Borrowing its force, he tugged, actually dragging Xie Yun into a stumbling lunge. Taking advantage of the opening, he closed in, his right hand forming a blade with two fingers as he feinted toward Xie Yun's ribs.
Xie Yun instinctively moved to defend, raising his arm to block.
At that very instant, Chen Wuya suddenly withdrew his attack and instead leaped two steps backward.
"There, it happened again." He shook his head. "I hadn't even struck you, but you defended first. Your mental cultivation taught you to 'anticipate the enemy's momentum,' but what you anticipate has never been my movements—it's the 'proper way to fight' that you've imagined in your own heads."
Lin Xiao panted, sweat beading across his forehead.
He wanted to argue, but found himself unable to say anything for a moment. Those few moves just now had indeed been exactly as Chen Wuya said—they were always waiting for the opponent to play according to reason, but this man had not followed any reason from beginning to end.
"Martial arts aren't copied books." Chen Wuya patted his sleeve, his tone as casual as if he were explaining something utterly ordinary. "They're a path walked by living people. You cling to a crippled cultivation manual and repeat the same things day after day, thinking you're improving. But in truth... you stopped long ago."
"Shut up!" Lin Xiao roared and thrust his sword straight at him.
The strike held no flourishes. It went directly for the chest, carrying a vicious force born of total desperation.
Chen Wuya finally got serious.
His footwork changed. No longer rising and falling in the uneven rhythm from before, it suddenly became inverted and bizarre—his left foot stepped on his right shadow, his right hand drew in the wind from the left, and every step seemed to move against the body's natural inertia. It was the Universe Reversal Step he had repeatedly deduced in his mind the previous night.
Lin Xiao's sword thrust into empty air. Unable to check his momentum, his entire body surged forward.
At the instant he lost his balance, Chen Wuya had already circled to his side and rear. Misaligned Force gathered along the edge of his palm, which lightly sliced the inner side of Lin Xiao's sword-wielding wrist.
Lin Xiao's entire arm went numb. His sword slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.
Seeing this, Xie Yun lunged forward in alarm, his sword sweeping horizontally.
Chen Wuya remained unhurried. He bent his knees and sank down, actually slipping beneath Xie Yun's armpit at the very instant between life and death. As he rose, he casually flicked his hand, Misaligned Force striking Xie Yun's inner elbow. Xie Yun's sword momentum abruptly stalled, and the tip touched the ground.
The two froze where they stood—one unable to hold his sword, the other unable to summon any strength.
Chen Wuya stood firmly and brushed the dust from his shoulder, looking as relaxed as if he had just finished taking a stroll.
"You've trained for three years. Have you ever come up with a single move yourselves?" He looked at the two of them. "Or have you spent every day imitating your master's shadow?"
Lin Xiao's lips trembled. He wanted to speak, but no sound came out.
Xie Yun lowered his head and stared at the sword in his hand, his fingers trembling faintly. He suddenly remembered what his master had said on his first day of joining the sect: "The Qingfeng Thirteen Forms have been passed down from generation to generation. They must never be changed on a whim." Yet today, the person they had regarded as trash had used a footwork technique no one had ever seen before to shatter their sword formation.
"Even the pebble formation at my fortune-telling stall understands 'creating change through misalignment' better than you do." Chen Wuya turned around, the blue cloth strap lifting in the wind. "If you come again, remember to take a number first."
With that, he left. His steps were not fast, yet no one dared to stop him.
Lin Xiao stood where he was, staring at Chen Wuya's back, his fists clenched until they crackled. Xie Yun slowly bent down and picked up his sword, his knuckles pale, but he did not chase after him.
The crowd at the street corner automatically parted, opening a path.
Chen Wuya passed through the alley entrance, his figure gradually fading into the distance. Quiet murmurs rose behind him. Someone whispered, "Is he really just a fortune-teller?"
No one answered.
The sunlight slanted across the street, and the dust had yet to settle.
Chen Wuya entered a tea shop and sat down in a corner. The owner brought him a bowl of rough tea. When he took it, his fingertips trembled slightly—that was the aftershock of repeatedly circulating Misaligned Force.
He calmly set down the tea bowl, his gaze sweeping across the street outside.
After a moment, two figures in white left in the direction of the divination stall. Their steps were heavy. One carried a sword, while the other went empty-handed.
Chen Wuya lowered his head and blew gently over the tea. Ripples spread across its surface.
What he did not see was the shadow beneath the eaves across from the tea shop. It quietly turned around and disappeared into a dark alley.
At that moment, the edge of the scorched yellow paper tucked inside his sleeve was growing faintly hot.
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