At daybreak, the cooking smoke still lingered over the camp, but Chen Wuya was already standing in the open ground. He no longer held the shard of pottery. Instead, he tucked it into a crack in the stove, as though temporarily sealing away last night's vigilance.
Old Wu Tou came over, leaning on his cane, his steps a few shades quicker than usual. He glanced at Chen Wuya, then swept his eyes over the villagers gathering one after another. In a low voice, he said, "Everyone's here."
Chen Wuya nodded and raised his voice. "Starting today, we'll train at the Hour of the Dragon, keep accounts at noon, and rotate shifts at the Hour of the Sheep. Every one of you has a use."
The crowd fell silent. Several of the former messengers stood at the edge with their heads lowered, unsure where to put their hands. The young man straightened his back, but his shoulders were still stiff with tension. The woman folded her arms, her gaze fixed on a stone by her feet. An older man stood silently to one side, like a section of deadwood.
"I know what you're thinking." Chen Wuya walked to the center. "Yesterday, they were still delivering messages for the foreign race. How can they train alongside us now?"
No one answered, but quite a few nodded faintly.
"I don't believe it either," he said. "But I believe even less that a person can live only one kind of life."
He suddenly raised his right leg and stepped backward, while his left foot shot forward in a sudden slide. His whole body seemed about to fall, yet at the final instant he steadied his center of gravity and sent out a palm strike. Sand and dust billowed, and a stack of firewood three zhang away shuddered.
"Universe Reversal Step." He dusted off his hands. "Walking doesn't always mean moving forward. Sometimes, taking two steps back lets you step on the enemy's toes instead."
Someone laughed. It was not loud, but the tense atmosphere loosened a little.
"Who wants to try?" he asked.
Old Wu Tou stepped forward with his cane. "I will."
Chen Wuya raised an eyebrow. "With those old bones of yours, aren't you afraid of throwing out your back?"
"My back's been thrown out before." Old Wu Tou grinned, tossed aside his cane, and planted his feet.
"Do as I say," Chen Wuya instructed. "Move your right foot first and cross to the left. Don't worry about whether it feels natural. The force has to be crooked."
Old Wu Tou followed his instructions. His steps were crooked, like a drunk stumbling around. Yet when he slapped out a palm, a sandbag beside him was flung several zhang away and hit the ground with a dull thud.
The crowd erupted.
"See that?" Chen Wuya pointed at the sandbag. "It's not that you can't do it. It's that no one ever taught you to 'come at it crooked.'"
The young man stared at the sandbag for a long while before finally stepping forward. "I'll try too."
He followed the commands and began moving, his actions neat and orderly, every step taken with utmost precision. But when his palm wind swept across the sandbag, it did not budge an inch.
"Too straight." Chen Wuya shook his head. "Misaligned Force follows the principle of 'when reason is overturned, order emerges.' The more you try to strike accurately, the less far you'll hit. The harder you try to stand steady, the easier you'll be toppled."
"But... what counts as 'misaligned'?" The young man frowned.
"When you used to deliver messages, did you always follow a fixed route?" Chen Wuya asked.
"Yes."
"Did you ever change course on the spur of the moment and end up avoiding a patrol?"
The young man paused. "Yes... Last winter, the snow was too heavy, so I went around the western slope. As a result, the eastern forest road was buried."
"That's 'misaligned.'" Chen Wuya smiled. "Training works the same way. Don't think about whether it's right or wrong. Think instead—what step looks the most wrong? That may be the step that's right."
The young man drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his steps suddenly fell out of rhythm. He stopped pursuing balance and deliberately staggered. When he thrust out a palm, the sandbag rocked and rolled two steps away.
"It worked!" someone shouted.
Chen Wuya patted him on the shoulder. "Now that looks more like a person."
Over the next half-hour, the open ground gradually grew lively. Old Wu Tou became the leader, guiding everyone through the movements over and over. He came up with a few lines of mnemonic verse: "Let the steps be wild, but don't let the heart panic; let the force be crooked, and strike farther." The words spread like wildfire.
The older man stood to one side, silently memorizing everything and occasionally correcting someone's posture. He made few movements himself, but his eyes were sharp. At a glance, he could tell who was forcing themselves to keep going.
The woman tried several times, but her strength gave out. She quietly left the line and sat to one side, panting.
Chen Wuya noticed. When training ended, he deliberately went over to her. "Starting tomorrow, we'll practice in groups. Those with weaker constitutions will first learn 'Still Misaligned Energy.' You can circulate your energy even while sitting."
She looked up, somewhat surprised.
"A person drawing water doesn't necessarily have to keep their shoulders straight," he said. "Bending over may let them walk farther."
She nodded lightly without saying anything, but the tension around the corners of her eyes eased.
As noon approached, training ended. The young man took the initiative to move firewood and rebuild the sandbag frame used for training. The older man took out an old ledger and began recording the names of those who had attended. Old Wu Tou squatted in a corner, scribbling on a plank with a charcoal stick as he organized a concise set of mnemonic verses for tomorrow's lesson.
Chen Wuya turned and walked toward the cookhouse tent.
As he passed by, the curtain lifted a crack, and that flour-stained hand withdrew again. He did not stop walking, but his right hand quietly slipped into his sleeve to confirm that the pottery shard was still there.
Inside the tent, the pot had already heated up, and the rice porridge burbled. A man was adding firewood to the stove, while a corner of fabric was faintly visible through the hidden compartment beneath a basket. He was the unfamiliar man who had carried a load into the camp that morning.
Chen Wuya stopped and leaned against the doorframe. "New here?"
The man turned and smiled. "I heard meals are provided here."
"Meals are provided," Chen Wuya said, "but you have to work."
"I'll work." The man nodded. "I can haul water, chop wood, and stand night watch."
"What sort of martial arts do you know?" Chen Wuya asked.
"Just some rough basics. I did manual labor for a few years." The man rubbed his hands together. "The one thing I have is strength."
Chen Wuya stared at him for several breaths before suddenly saying, "Gather in the open ground at the Hour of the Dragon tomorrow."
"Huh?" The man froze. "Training?"
"Yes." Chen Wuya turned and walked out. "You're coming too."
After walking a few steps, he stopped again. "Don't be late."
The man watched his back as the smile slowly faded from his face. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the hidden compartment beneath the basket.
At dusk, Old Wu Tou found Chen Wuya and handed him the wooden board covered with the mnemonic verses. "I sorted it all out just as you said."
Chen Wuya took it and glanced over it. The handwriting was crooked but clear, and the verses were concise and easy to remember.
"Not bad," he said. "Use this to teach tomorrow."
Old Wu Tou nodded, then suddenly lowered his voice. "That man... have you investigated him?"
"Not yet." Chen Wuya looked toward the cookhouse tent. "But he'll come to see me."
"What if he doesn't?"
"Then I'll go see him." Chen Wuya handed the board back. "Add another watch tonight. Keep an eye on the path behind the mountain."
Old Wu Tou acknowledged him and limped away.
Chen Wuya remained where he was, looking at the footprints in the open ground. They were chaotic and disorderly, yet faintly beginning to form a direction.
The next morning, just as the sun rose above the horizon, more than twenty people had already gathered in the open ground. Old Wu Tou stood at the front, holding up the wooden board and loudly leading everyone through the mnemonic verses. The young man guided one group in practicing the footwork. Their movements were still unskilled, but they were no longer stiff and restrained. The woman and several other people with weaker constitutions sat in a circle, slowly circulating their breath under Chen Wuya's guidance as they practiced "Still Misaligned Energy."
The older man held the ledger, checking the names one by one and occasionally reminding someone in a low voice where to stand.
Chen Wuya made a round of inspection before finally stopping outside the cookhouse tent.
The man who had carried the load was chopping vegetables. His knife fell steadily, and his hand did not tremble.
"Early bird," Chen Wuya said.
The man looked up. "I was afraid I'd miss it."
"Do you know the rules?"
"I do." The man set down his knife. "Follow orders, observe discipline, and don't ask about anyone's background."
"Good." Chen Wuya looked at him. "Now go line up in the open ground."
The man wiped his hands and walked out.
Chen Wuya followed him and stood before the crowd.
"We're adding one person today," he said. "Remember, no matter who he was before, from this moment on, he's the same as all of you—he has to learn skills and protect our home."
The crowd fell silent for a moment.
Old Wu Tou raised the wooden board and led the shout. "Let the steps be wild, but don't let the heart panic!"
Everyone chanted after him in unison. "Let the force be crooked, and strike farther!"
The voices were not perfectly synchronized, but they rang out loud and clear.
The corner of Chen Wuya's mouth twitched. He was just about to speak when he suddenly caught sight of the man standing at the end of the line, his right hand hanging at his side, his fingertip lightly tapping his thigh three times.
Three short taps, one long, then two short.
It was the rhythm of the secret signal agreed upon the previous night.
Without betraying a hint of emotion, he merely said, "Begin."
Before you continue