Morning light had just spread across the open ground. Chen Wuya stood at the front of the ranks, watching everyone finish their forms and return to position. Old Wu Tou came along the path from the rear hills, his steps several shades more hurried than usual. He clutched a sheet of oil paper in one hand, its corners softened by the dew.
He walked up beside Chen Wuya without a word and handed over the oil paper, tapping it lightly twice with his finger.
Chen Wuya took it and glanced down. The writing was hurried and scrawled, the ink uneven, as though it had been hastily penned. A dark-red seal marked it—a wolf's head howling at the sky. Its edges were worn, yet it still carried a savage, primeval air.
He did not frown or look up at anyone. He simply folded the paper into four layers and slipped it into a crack in the cooking platform, pressing it beside that shard of pottery.
"I know," he said, his voice low, as if answering an ordinary greeting.
Old Wu Tou stared at him. "You're not going to ask who delivered it?"
"A woodcutter-looking man, with a tear in the cloth shoe on his left foot. He walked with a slight limp." Chen Wuya clapped the dust from his hands. "You stopped him at the perimeter and questioned him. He stammered a couple of words before leaving, saying he was only passing through to rest. You grew suspicious, so you brought this back."
Old Wu Tou froze. "You didn't even see him."
"Last night, when we added guards, you said to keep watch on the path behind the hill." Chen Wuya turned and walked toward the center of the open ground, his tone calm. "This morning, I saw you deliberately circle around to inspect the footprints. You even crouched down to feel the moisture in the soil. If you hadn't found something, you wouldn't have been so thorough."
Old Wu Tou opened and closed his mouth, but in the end said nothing more. He only sighed under his breath. "They reacted faster than I expected."
Chen Wuya smiled. "It would be strange if they were slow. The spy hadn't sent word in three days, and the wax pill had been buried again completely intact. If they could still sleep soundly after that, they wouldn't be an alien army—they'd be clay idols in a temple."
He paused, then looked toward the earthen wall around the camp. "The question now isn't whether they'll come looking for us. It's whether they want the entire martial world to know that I, Chen Wuya, am worth a thousand taels of silver."
Old Wu Tou's heart tightened. "You really intend to accept this bounty?"
"Why not?" Chen Wuya countered. "They're advertising for me. That saves me the trouble of shouting it from street to street."
Old Wu Tou glared at him. "This isn't something to joke about. How many desperate killers in the martial world make their living off their heads? Around here, your skill is the Misaligned Force you teach. In other people's eyes, it's flesh that can be sliced off and exchanged for money."
Chen Wuya did not answer. Instead, he raised his voice toward the open ground. "We're practicing a new move today! Whoever first strikes the vibrational force of the Breaking the Flow Palm gets an extra egg at noon!"
The crowd immediately stirred. The young man was the first to step forward. He took up a stance, then slid forward with crooked steps, his palm wind sweeping across a sandbag and producing a muffled thump. A woman also gathered several of the weaker people into a circle and sat down, eyes closed as they circulated their breath. An older man silently recorded the number of trainees nearby, the tip of his brush rasping across the paper.
Everything went on as usual.
Yet the instant Chen Wuya turned around, he sensed several gazes—from the woodpile in the corner, the gap in the cooking tent's curtain, and the hunched figure behind the clothesline to the west. Someone was listening, someone was taking notes, and someone was already calculating.
He knew the news would spread like rice broth spilled into sand, seeping outward without a sound. Before sunset, every village for ten li around would know: the young man in the refugee camp who taught bizarre martial arts had been wanted by the Northern Border Royal Court, and his head was worth a thousand gold pieces.
Just after noon, training was suspended. Everyone sat around the edge of the open ground, gnawing on dry flatbread as the conversation gradually quieted.
"Have you heard?" a young man whispered. "They're saying the relay stations along the official road have posted a notice with his likeness. It's him."
Another person chimed in. "Yesterday I went into town to buy salt. The teahouse was going wild with it. Some people said he'd already killed three saber-wielders sent after him. Others said he was a remnant of the Demonic Cult who practiced evil arts."
"Then... will we get dragged into trouble?" An old woman hugged her child, her voice trembling. "If someone really comes for the reward, can we hold them off?"
Once those words were spoken, many people lowered their heads in silence. Some quietly shifted away from Chen Wuya.
Chen Wuya listened without moving. Only after swallowing the last bite of flatbread did he rise and clap his hands.
"You all heard that?" he asked.
No one answered.
"That's right," he said. "The aliens want my life, and they've offered a thousand taels. Do the math. Is that enough for everyone to get fifty? To buy fields, build houses, and marry wives? More than enough."
Everyone froze.
Then someone laughed once. A second laugh followed, and finally the whole crowd burst into uproarious laughter.
Chen Wuya laughed as well. "That's the right response. They think the bounty order is a killing move. In truth, it's the stupidest move on the board."
He walked to the sandbag, drew his right foot back, and thrust his left palm across. The motion looked loose and formless, without the slightest hint of structure. Yet where the palm wind passed, the sandbag jolted violently, then exploded with a BANG, yellow sand spraying in every direction.
"This is the Universe Reversal Step paired with the Breaking the Flow Palm," he said. "You've studied for three days and can already produce half a tenth of its force. What about the aliens? They can practice their whole lives and still won't find the door."
He swept his gaze over the crowd. "What they fear isn't me staying alive. They fear me teaching these 'crooked moves' to the people who carry water, tend fires, and work the fields. They fear that one day, when their blades come down, the people standing opposite them won't be helpless civilians waiting to die, but living people who know Misaligned Force and understand how to turn reason against reason."
The crowd fell silent.
"So let them come." Chen Wuya brushed the sand from his clothes. "I won't hide, and I won't run. I want every person who comes for the reward to see exactly what kind of soldiers I've trained."
Applause rose from the corner. It was Old Wu Tou, striking his cane against the ground again and again.
Then the young man took the lead and shouted, "Misaligned Energy Training Institute—earn your living by your own ability, will not kneel, will not surrender!"
At first, only a few people shouted along. Later, the voices grew louder and louder. Even the ones who had originally wanted to slip away stood up and hollered at the tops of their lungs.
Chen Wuya said nothing more. He merely walked to the cooking platform, pulled a freshly carved wooden plaque from inside his robes, and wrote a line on it with a charcoal stick.
He carried the plaque to the camp entrance and planted it in the earth.
The wind lifted the corner of his clothes, and the wooden plaque swayed faintly.
At dusk, Old Wu Tou sat at the edge of the open ground, staring at the plaque in a daze.
"Are you really not afraid?" he asked.
"Afraid?" Chen Wuya sat on the edge of the cooking platform, rubbing a rough shard of pottery in his hand. "What I fear most is that no one will come. The more people who come, the more it proves we're walking the right path."
Old Wu Tou was silent for a moment before suddenly saying, "The martial world doesn't care about reason. It won't just be desperate killers. Escort agencies, sects, and imperial spies will come too. They'll wave the banner of 'eliminating evil' while carrying out robbery."
"Then let them all come." Chen Wuya looked toward the distant official road. "I don't care what banner they wave. As long as they dare to reach out, they'll get a taste of Misaligned Force."
He stood and brushed the dust from his trousers. "Do you know why they insist on killing me? It isn't because I'm strong. It's because I've shown them another possibility—martial arts don't have to be orthodox, and principles don't have to be ancient. As long as a move works, it's a good move."
Old Wu Tou slowly nodded. "So you aren't afraid of the bounty order."
"I'm only afraid it came too late." The corners of Chen Wuya's mouth lifted. "Now it's our turn to make a move."
The night wind began to rise, stirring the cloth banners in the camp. The wooden plaque stood at the entrance, its charcoal-written words clear:
"Misaligned Energy Training Institute—earn your living by your own ability, will not kneel, will not surrender."
Old Wu Tou leaned on his cane and stood beside him. Together, they gazed toward the end of the official road.
Dust began to rise.
Before you continue