Rainwater streamed through gaps in the ruined temple walls, pelting Chen Wuya's face before mixing with blood and sliding into the corner of his mouth. He remained motionless, eyelids lowered, his breathing so faint his chest barely seemed to rise. The scorched patterns across his chest still radiated a dull heat, but the force of the thunderfire had already been forced deep into his dantian, lying dormant like a snake.
Three Qingfeng disciples stood before him. Rain dripped from their scabbards, tapping out a fine, scattered rhythm against the muddy ground.
"He's still breathing." The man who had crouched down withdrew his hand and said quietly, "But in that condition... I doubt he'll last much longer."
"The Sect Master wants the item, not the man." The third man sneered and reached into his robes.
The instant his fingertips touched the coarse cloth, Chen Wuya's right knuckles gave the faintest twitch—like wind skimming over withered leaves, unnoticed by anyone. The Misaligned Force within him began circulating soundlessly, suppressing his heartbeat until it was nearly still. Only that wisp of lightning-serpent in his dantian sustained his life. Mo Feng remained crouched atop the beam, a silver spike held between his fingers, his gaze calm and unmoving.
That hand finally found the corner of the torn page and tugged hard.
Rumble!
The ground shook violently. A crack split open beneath the shrine, and rusted chains clattered loudly. Several bronze spears shot from the earth, stabbing straight toward the roof! One struck a disciple squarely in the shoulder blade, pinning him to the ground as his scream abruptly cut off.
Chen Wuya had known from the beginning that this place contained a mechanism. When the stone slabs had risen during the tribulation and the formation diagram appeared, he had already sensed that something was wrong with the structure beneath his feet. Now, borrowing the momentum, he relaxed his strength and rolled with it, avoiding the second wave of spearpoints. At the same time, he shouted in a low voice, "Brother Mo, lend me some light!"
Mo Feng flicked open his folding fan. A mechanical formation diagram flashed across its surface, and a streak of blue light skimmed over the torn page. The silk scroll trembled in response and actually resonated with the formation diagram underground. The entire ruined temple began to hum deeply, as if a sleeping skeleton had been awakened.
"What's going on!" The remaining two staggered back several paces and drew their swords.
"You made this mess. Clean it up yourselves." Chen Wuya pushed himself upright, bracing his body with his left arm while pressing his right hand against the ground. The Misaligned Force reversed its course and guided the remaining thunderforce along the still-flickering leyline fluctuations, blasting it into the formation's core.
Azure light erupted from the cracks in the ground, mixed with sparks and the scent of scorched earth. Thunderfire surged upward, forcing the two disciples to retreat in panic, their robes scorching and curling at the hems in an instant.
"Since you want to see the Canglang Art..." He slowly rose, his voice hoarse yet utterly free of weakness. "Then I'll give you a display of 'Heavenly Thunder and Earthly Fire.'"
Before his voice had faded, he slammed his right palm against the ground.
The entire temple foundation shuddered violently. The formation diagram lit up in full, and bolts of thunderfire shot out in streams, sweeping across the hall. The incense burner exploded, wooden pillars snapped, and roof tiles pattered down in a shower. One man failed to dodge in time; flames swept over his arm, and his sword flew from his hand.
Chen Wuya seized the opportunity to spring up. With his left hand, he tore off the blue cloth strip and swiftly wound it around the torn page at his waist. His right arm throbbed as if sliced by a knife, but he could already sense the Canglang Misaligned Thunder coursing through his meridians. With a single thought, he could detonate it.
He looked toward the disciple pinned to the ground. Terror covered the man's face, and he could not struggle free.
"Next time..." Chen Wuya said coldly, "don't touch what doesn't belong to you."
His figure flashed toward the broken wall. Bricks and stones collapsed with a crash, and he shot into the torrential rain like an arrow loosed from its bow.
Behind him, the two disciples roared and drew their swords to give chase, but a fresh burst of thunderfire forced them back. Mo Feng stood atop the beam, watching the figure vanish into the curtain of rain, and let out a quiet laugh. "That boy... isn't undergoing tribulation. He's usurping fate." He snapped his fan shut and leaped down, his figure melting into the night.
Across the wilderness, the rain poured in torrents.
Chen Wuya hurried through the mire, each step sinking half a foot deep. Rain struck his face painfully, while blood continued to seep from the wound in his right arm, thinning to a pale red as the water washed over it. He dared not stop. He could only rely on the Misaligned Force to circulate slowly through his body, barely keeping himself conscious.
Behind him, firelight flickered from the direction of the ruined temple, illuminating the outline of one collapsed corner. The thunderfire had not yet gone out, and residual waves still trembled through the leyline. Faint azure light could be seen winking beneath the ruins.
He lowered his head and glanced at his waist. The torn page was wrapped tightly in the cloth strip, and the place where it pressed against his skin still felt warm. When it had resonated with the formation diagram moments ago, he had clearly seen the writing on the silk scroll twist and rearrange itself. The flow of its strokes had been completely identical to the circulation path of the Misaligned Force. It was not a martial formula, but something more like... a force that guided rules.
"So the Canglang Art was wrong from the beginning?" he murmured. "Only by using the wrong method can I open the right door?"
The thought had barely arisen when the system rang out in his consciousness: [External energy interference detected. Suspected residual formation signal continuing to track.]
His heart tightened, and he quickened his pace.
He could not stay here long. Since the Azure Edge Sect had sent people to seize the torn page, it meant the news had already leaked. From here on, even more people would set their sights on him.
Ahead lay a low-lying woodland, the trees blurring into shadowy masses beneath the rain. Gritting his teeth, he stepped inside. Branches and leaves slapped against his shoulders, their wet chill cutting to the bone. Suddenly, his foot slipped, and he pitched forward.
His palm sank into muddy water, but touched something hard.
Frowning, he brushed away the silt, revealing the edge of a stone slab. Half of a broken formation diagram was carved into it, its patterns fitting perfectly with what he had seen beneath the ruined temple.
"Another one?" His heart jolted.
This was no coincidence. Three hundred years ago, three hundred and sixty altars had been scattered across the Central Plains. The slab before him was clearly one of them. And the mechanism's response in the ruined temple just now might not have been a simple defense, but some kind of awakening mechanism—only someone carrying the torn page and touching a specific node could activate the clues.
He was about to examine it more closely when his fingertips had just brushed the carved marks and the stone slab suddenly began to tremble.
The soil loosened, and the entire slab slowly sank, revealing a deep, gloomy hollow below. A warm current welled up from within, carrying the scents of metal and ancient paper. On the inner wall of the hollow, faintly visible, were fine inscriptions. Their arrangement actually matched the blank area on the back of the torn page.
Chen Wuya held his breath and reached inside.
Just as his fingertips were about to touch the inscriptions, a whistle sounded in the distance.
He abruptly withdrew his hand and looked up. Deep within the curtain of rain, two points of firelight swayed closer. Footsteps splashed through puddles in a steady rhythm, unlike those of ordinary wandering martial artists.
Someone had followed the thunderfire here.
He quickly shoved the stone slab back into place and covered the traces with mud, then rolled into the bushes. The instant he had concealed himself, two figures stepped into the edge of the woodland.
Both wore the Azure Edge Sect's standard short jackets, slim swords at their waists, and silver-threaded cloud patterns embroidered across their chests—that was the mark belonging only to the Sect Master's personal guards.
"That thunderfire just now definitely came from the direction of the ruined temple." One of them surveyed the surroundings. "He's badly injured. He couldn't have gone far."
The other crouched down and examined the footprints in the mud. "The blood hasn't dried. It's still seeping. He went this way."
"No need to chase too quickly." The first man sneered. "He took something he shouldn't have. The leyline will turn against him. As long as he hasn't handed over the torn page, every step he takes will burn his meridians a little more. He won't last through tonight."
"Then we wait for him to collapse?"
"No." The man rose and looked toward the depths of the woods. "I'll report back. You stay here and guard this area. Kill anyone you see. Leave no survivors."
With that, he turned and left. The remaining man stood in the rain with his sword in hand, his gaze sweeping across the bushes.
Chen Wuya lay prone on the ground, holding his breath and gathering his focus. His right hand quietly pressed into the mud as the Misaligned Force slowly gathered in his palm. He knew that if he struck now, he could at most take one of them down with him. But if he exposed his position, it would be a dead end.
He could not move.
The man paced a few steps, then suddenly bent down and picked up a leaf that had been trampled and snapped.
A faint trace of blood still stained the broken vein.
His eyes narrowed as he took two steps toward the bushes.
Chen Wuya slowly tightened all five fingers. A glimmer of lightning appeared in his palm.
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