The Eve of the Lightning Tribulation, Preparing Countermeasures

Chen Wuya's palm remained suspended in mid-air, fingers spread, palm facing upward. The moment the lightning snake struck, his entire right arm felt as if it were gripped by fiery tongs, burning from the depths of his flesh. He didn't cry out or move, only clenched his jaw tightly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Mo Feng stood at the edge of the side beam, his folding fan held across his chest, fingertips white. He stared at the blue light embedded in flesh and blood, cursed under his breath, then snapped his fan shut and rapped it hard against a pillar, "You're still alive?"

"Almost there," Chen Wuya finally withdrew his hand. As his arm hung down, it twitched slightly, the surface of his skin covered in a layer of scorched patterns, like a dried riverbed. He propped himself up with his left hand, bent his knees, and forced himself to sit upright again, cross-legged at the center of the formation's eye.

Mo Feng leaped down and crouched before him, reaching out to feel the temperature of his right shoulder. He frowned, "This energy feels wrong. It's not dispersing outwards, it's retracting inwards."

"It's looking for a path," Chen Wuya closed his eyes. "Misaligned energy never follows the proper meridians. When lightning enters, it will only choose the most crooked path."

"Then you're essentially lighting gunpowder inside your meridians right now. It's just a matter of which side explodes first." Mo Feng stood up and walked to the corner, pulling a small ceramic jar from his cloak's inner pocket. He poured out a few dark green pills. "This is the 'Vein Condensing Powder' I made with Deep Pool Cold Grass. It can temporarily suppress the surging Blood Essence. It won't last long, but it's enough to help you stabilize through the first two lightning strikes."

Chen Wuya opened his eyes, but didn't take the pills. He only asked, "Are there any side effects?"

"Yes. For half an hour after taking it, you can't channel energy, or it will backlash against your heart meridian." Mo Feng put the pills back in the jar. "Do you want your life, or a chance?"

Chen Wuya was silent for a moment, then reached out and took the ceramic jar, pouring one pill into his mouth. The pill dissolved instantly, a wave of coldness sliding down his throat. As soon as it reached his abdomen, the restless misaligned energy within him felt as if its head had been forcefully held down, coming to an abrupt halt.

He immediately seized this opening, pressing his left hand to his dantian and guiding the residual strength to flow back. The misaligned energy, which had been like a wild horse galloping, now seemed slightly more subdued under the pill's suppression, slowly converging along a twisted path. A line of text flashed in his mind from the System: [True energy reverse circulation path calibrated, Ren and Du meridians connected 73%].

"Still three percent short," he murmured.

"That's enough." Mo Feng had already returned to the ground, squatting at the edge of the water formation. He dipped his fingertip in the rainwater and added a few strokes to the silver powder lines. "This formation can only deflect the lightning's force, it can't bear it for you. You have to pave the path yourself."

Chen Wuya nodded, tore off the hem of his outer garment, soaked it, and wound it around his right arm, layer by layer. The moment the cloth touched his skin, a sharp pain shot from the scorched area, but he didn't stop. One layer, two layers, three layers, until his entire forearm was tightly wrapped. Finally, he untied the faded blue sash from his waist, looped it around his elbow joint, and tied it off firmly.

"Are you preparing to sever your arm?" Mo Feng watched his movements.

"It's to prevent dislocation," Chen Wuya flexed his wrist, his voice steady. "When the lightning strikes, my muscles will twitch uncontrollably. If the joint loosens, the energy will break."

Mo Feng said nothing more. He turned and walked behind the shrine, pulling a slender copper tube from a crack in the bricks. Spiral patterns were carved at both ends. He inserted the copper tube into the intersection of the water formation and twisted it gently. The silver lines on the ground immediately lit up with a faint glow, as if they had come alive.

"This is a diversion plug. It can help you delay the lightning's force for another half-breath," he stepped back a few paces, surveying the entire layout. "The formation's eye is beneath you. The water lines circle three times, the copper tube guides it. When the lightning strikes, I'll block it with my fan, deflecting it to strike your right hand. Nod when you're ready."

Chen Wuya didn't nod. Instead, he slowly closed his eyes.

He remembered the final exam at the Academy. The teacher stood at the lectern, holding his test paper, and read it aloud to the entire class: "Chen Wuya, you managed to copy 'benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness' as 'human ants leaving moles and stench.' Are you truly stupid, or just pretending?"

He had lowered his head then, offering no defense. But the day he walked out of the gate, he found a rain-soaked copy of the Calculation Classic in a corner. Flipping to the last page, he discovered a problem – everyone had deduced it in the correct order, and all of them were wrong. He casually calculated it backward, and it was correct.

"So some paths only open when you take them backward," he murmured.

Mo Feng heard him and looked back, "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Chen Wuya opened his eyes, his gaze falling on his right hand, wrapped in cloth strips. "I was just wondering if I get this wrong, will it be right too?"

Mo Feng grinned, "You know, the closer you are to death, the more you talk."

Outside, the wind grew fiercer. The dripping from the eaves had formed a continuous stream, pattering onto the water formation, creating ripples. The clouds pressed down extremely low. Occasionally, a flash of lightning would illuminate the walls of the dilapidated temple, casting flickering shadows on the mottled walls, like countless outstretched hands.

Chen Wuya took a deep breath, placing his palms flat on his knees. The misaligned energy sank into his dantian, his breathing gradually lengthening. He knew that every breath from now on could be his last. But he couldn't panic, nor could he stop. The reason misaligned energy could survive was precisely because it never played by the rules—others feared the lightning tribulation, but he intended to treat the lightning as a tonic.

Mo Feng retreated to the side beam, opening his folding fan. The water patterns on the fan surface flowed. He looked up at the sky. The dark clouds had begun to swirl, and the point of light in the center was growing brighter.

"It's coming," he said.

Chen Wuya didn't respond, only raised his left hand slightly, resting it on the bandages of his right arm. That was his final safeguard—if the energy lost control, he would immediately cut off blood circulation, even if it meant crippling his arm, he wouldn't let the lightning fire surge into his heart meridian.

Mo Feng held his breath, holding his fan horizontally, aimed towards the temple entrance.

Before the first lightning strike fell, the wind arrived. It swept up leaves and dust, stinging Chen Wuya's face. His bangs were blown upward, revealing an old scar on his forehead—a mark from his childhood, when his father had whipped him with a bamboo strip for copying a character incorrectly.

He suddenly smiled.

"What, you want to laugh before you die?" Mo Feng asked in a low voice.

"I was thinking, if the Academy teacher knew I was now relying on 'copying wrong answers' to survive, I wonder if he'd be so angry he'd crawl out of his grave."

Mo Feng was stunned, almost losing his composure. "You really are a madman."

Before he finished speaking, the sky split open.

A bolt of purple lightning struck straight down from the center of the vortex. It moved so fast its trajectory was invisible. With a deafening "boom," the entire dilapidated temple trembled violently, tiles raining down.

Mo Feng swung his fan, and the water formation lit up, a semi-circular light screen rising. The lightning snake hit the barrier, and was forcefully deflected three inches, grazing Chen Wuya's right shoulder before striking his outstretched palm.

His body stiffened. The misaligned energy surged instantly, following the lightning's flow and rushing up his shoulder. The blue patterns beneath his skin spread rapidly, as if something were crawling within his veins.

The second lightning strike was already condensing in the clouds.

Mo Feng took a breath, tilting his fan slightly, preparing to intercept it again.

Chen Wuya, however, suddenly spoke, "For the next strike, don't deflect it too much."

"Are you crazy?!" Mo Feng turned his head. "If I don't block it, you'll be cooked on the spot!"

"I want it to enter my meridians," Chen Wuya raised his face, his eyes clear. "The misaligned energy is taking a dead end, and the lightning is also a dead end. If two dead ends collide, perhaps they can forge a path to life."

Mo Feng stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly retracted his fan and sneered, "Fine. I'll be foolish with you to the end."

He no longer reinforced the water screen. Instead, he pulled his fan back by half a foot, leaving a gap.

Lightning flashed again in the clouds, brighter than before.