Twisted Logic Transmits Skills, Old Wu Tou Learns the Wrong Step

As dawn broke, the wind outside the tent ceased. Chen Wuya opened his eyes, his fingertips still resting on the edge of his pack. The coarse cloth embroidered with the character "Zhao" had been clutched so tightly it had softened. Last night's cat's meow was the signal, the spy had repaired the signal line, and Old Wu Tou had responded with three taps of his cane—he had heard the movements from all three parties.

He sat up, an old injury on his shoulder pressing down on his breath, and didn't rush to move. He mentally reviewed the enemy's attack route: attackers from the west slope, the east entrance blocked, the granary set ablaze, and the entire camp poisoned. One man couldn't handle four directions, but if someone could lead people to safety amidst the chaos, it might not be impossible to turn the tide.

He stared at the crudely drawn camp map on the ground, his gaze falling between the well and the woodpile. There was a gap there, unmarked by the spy, but Old Wu Tou always circled back from there during his nightly patrols. His steps were steady, his route familiar, as if he'd walked it for over a decade.

This man could be useful.

Not because of his strength, but because of his mind. And a mind was harder to guard against than martial arts.

He lifted the tent flap and stepped out. The morning mist floated close to the ground, and cooking smoke was already rising from the camp. A few children were squatting by the stove, blowing on the fire, and a woman carrying a wooden basin walked by, slipping and nearly falling. At the entrance to a nearby shed, Old Wu Tou leaned on his jujube wood cane, letting out a slow cough.

Chen Wuya took a turn, deliberately dragging his right leg, hobbling towards him. The sound of his wooden staff hitting the ground was heavier than usual, as if his injury had worsened.

"Old man," he said, leaning against a shed post and catching his breath, "I'm afraid this leg is ruined."

Old Wu Tou looked up at him, his brow furrowed. "The wind was strong last night; you should have covered yourself more."

"It's not the wind," Chen Wuya shook his head. "I practiced the steps incorrectly."

Old Wu Tou didn't reply, just took a puff from his pipe, tapping the bowl lightly on the stone edge.

"Do you believe in dreams?" Chen Wuya suddenly asked.

"Dreams?" Old Wu Tou snorted. "Things that happen to the living, dreams can't fix."

"But I dreamed of an old man with a white beard," Chen Wuya grinned. "He said I practiced the 'Universe Reversal Step' backward, and it actually opened up my meridians. If I had practiced it the right way, I would have been paralyzed."

Old Wu Tou narrowed his eyes. "You've actually practiced it?"

"I've practiced it, but no one taught me," Chen Wuya sat down against the post, patting his knee. "I just stumbled through it, my left foot stepping on my right shadow, my right foot treading on my left soul. The more chaotic my mind, the steadier my feet. Isn't that strange?"

Old Wu Tou was silent for a moment, his gaze falling on Chen Wuya's footprints. Two rows of tracks on the muddy ground, crooked and intertwined, seemingly chaotic, but with almost no change in depth, as if he had just brushed past.

"So, are you recovering from an injury now, or are you practicing?"

"Both," Chen Wuya smiled, dimples appearing. "The injury is fake, but the power is real. When you were escorting caravans, did you ever see this kind of footwork?"

"Never," Old Wu Tou shook his head. "But I know that those who walk slowly can often see the path clearly."

"Then would you be willing to give it a try?" Chen Wuya suddenly looked up. "Just to stretch your muscles. I'll say a line, and you take a step. It doesn't matter if it's wrong, I've come this far by making mistakes anyway."

Old Wu Tou stared at him for a long time, then finally straightened up a bit, leaning on his cane. "You say it."

"Retreat first, then advance," Chen Wuya slowly stood up, his back to Old Wu Tou. "Step your left foot back half a foot, but don't put your weight down, slide your right foot sideways, close to the ground. Your mind should be chaotic, don't think about where the next step will go."

Old Wu Tou hesitated, then followed the instructions. His movements were stiff, like joints that hadn't been used in a long time being forced to turn.

"Wrong," Chen Wuya turned back. "You're too serious. This isn't practicing martial arts, it's wrestling. Imagine you're drunk, the world is spinning, but you don't fall."

Old Wu Tou frowned and tried again. This time his steps were a little looser, but still rigid.

"Looser," Chen Wuya started walking himself, deliberately swaying left and right, muttering, "Left foot steps on right shadow, right foot treads on left soul, the more chaotic the mind, the steadier the step... Ah, that's it! Just sway like that!"

He suddenly stumbled, almost hitting the shed. Old Wu Tou instinctively reached out to steady him, but Chen Wuya grabbed his wrist.

"Don't worry about balance!" Chen Wuya flung his hand away. "Let it scatter! Only when it scatters can it be gathered!"

He started again. This time, it didn't look like walking at all, but more like being pushed into drunken steps, swaying left and right, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Yet, every step landed silently.

Old Wu Tou stood frozen, his expression changing.

"Try it," Chen Wuya stopped, panting. "Don't think about the moves, just think about when you were escorting that caravan, the horse spooked, the cart overturned, how did you escape from the fire?"

Old Wu Tou's breathing deepened.

He slowly lifted his left foot, stepping back. His right foot slid sideways, and his body tilted—as if he were about to fall, but he twisted with the motion and managed to steady himself.

"Yes!" Chen Wuya clapped his leg. "That's the feeling! Don't be afraid of tilting, tilting is what keeps you alive longer!"

Old Wu Tou walked through it again, his steps lighter this time. On the third pass, he suddenly stopped, his body freezing for a moment, as if pulled by something. He then slid half a step, precisely avoiding a loose beam that was about to fall from above.

He was stunned.

Chen Wuya, however, smiled. "That move you just did, that was the 'Universe Reversal'."

"I... I never learned it."

"Who said you needed to learn it?" Chen Wuya spread his hands. "You stumbled into it, crashed into it, ran into it. That's the real skill."

Old Wu Tou looked down at his footprints. Two rows of tracks on the muddy ground, just like Chen Wuya's, crooked and messy, but so shallow they were almost invisible.

"This footwork... can save a life?"

"More than that," Chen Wuya lowered his voice. "Tomorrow, at the third watch of the morning, attackers will come from the west slope, and the east entrance will be blocked. If you can lead people out through the well, you can save at least half of them."

Old Wu Tou looked up sharply. "You know they're going to attack?"

"I know," Chen Wuya nodded. "But I can't stop them alone. You are the steadiest person here. As long as you can do this step, others will follow you, and they can survive in the chaos."

Old Wu Tou was silent for a long time, tapping his cane on the ground. "You taught me a crooked way of walking, and now you want me to go to my death?"

"It's not going to your death," Chen Wuya stared at him. "It's for you to lead them to survival."

Old Wu Tou said nothing more and turned back into the shed. Chen Wuya didn't follow, just stood there, tapping his fingers on his knee three times, pausing, then tapping three more times.

A moment later, the sound of a cane echoed.

Old Wu Tou emerged, holding a pair of old cloth shoes, their soles worn white.

"Put these on." He handed them over.

Chen Wuya was stunned. "These..."

"Your soles have no calluses; you won't get far," Old Wu Tou interrupted. "When I was younger, escorting goods, I'd travel for three days and three nights without rest, and these shoes were my secret. I'm giving them to you now; don't mind if they're dirty."

Chen Wuya took them without protest and changed into them on the spot. The shoes fit perfectly, as if custom-made.

"Where exactly... did you used to escort goods?"

Old Wu Tou didn't answer, only saying, "Do that footwork again."

Chen Wuya nodded and demonstrated again. This time, he slowed down, breaking down each step. "First, step back, then forward. The left foot steps on the right's shadow, the right foot treads on the left's soul. The more chaotic your heart, the steadier your steps..."

Old Wu Tou followed along. His movements were still stiff, but he was no longer bound by the rules. On the fifth attempt, he suddenly sped up, his entire body seeming to be carried by the wind, yet he made no sound at all.

Chen Wuya's eyes lit up.

The System muttered in his mind: Error detected: 'Universe Reversal Step' interpreted as a drunken, fleeting shadow. Rationalization complete. Derivative effect: User can evade sudden dangers while in an unconscious state.

He remained silent, watching Old Wu Tou once again avoid a falling piece of thatch from the roof, his movements more natural than before.

It was done.

This footwork wasn't taught; it was "mistakenly" created. And Old Wu Tou happened to be someone who understood "mistakes."

"Again," Chen Wuya called out.

Old Wu Tou didn't stop, continuing to walk. One circle, two circles. His steps grew smoother, as if he had rediscovered something long lost.

Chen Wuya sat under the shed, watching the morning light spill onto the dirt ground, illuminating two crooked sets of footprints. He knew that in tomorrow's battle, he couldn't bear the brunt of it alone.

He needed a way out.

And he needed someone who could lead others out of a dead end.

Old Wu Tou stopped, taking a breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"You've got it," Chen Wuya said softly. "Wait for me by the well this time tomorrow."

Old Wu Tou nodded, leaned on his cane, and turned. He reached the entrance of the shed and suddenly stopped.

"Your twisted logic..." he said, his back to Chen Wuya. "Can it really save lives?"

"I don't deal in logic," Chen Wuya smiled. "I only deal in survival."

Old Wu Tou didn't turn around. His cane tapped the ground three times, a light sound.

The same as last night.

Chen Wuya looked down, his fingers tapping the ground lightly on his knee.

Three short, three short.

A silent reply.

Smoke curled from cooking fires in the camp. Children played in the distance. A woman hung wet clothes, water dripping from the corner of the fabric, forming small pits on the muddy ground.

Chen Wuya suddenly remembered something. He reached into his pack and pulled out the rag from the escort agency, unfolding it in his palm. Sunlight fell on the character "Zhao." The hemp thread was a little faded, but the stitches were still clear.

He stared at it for a moment, then slowly folded it into a triangle and tucked it into the inner layer of his sleeve.

Then he raised his head and looked towards the east wall of the camp.

There was a crack there, with freshly turned earth.

He remembered last night, the spy had added a short horizontal stroke there.

Now, that horizontal stroke was gone.