Chen Wuya's toes rested on a flat stone at the edge of the riverbank. As his center of gravity tilted slightly, loose pebbles rolled into the water, making a few soft clicks. The sound of the current crashing against the rocks was clearer than before, like a spur and a warning all at once. He did not turn around, but he could feel the pursuers' footsteps closing in on the end of the hollow behind him, the brittle snaps of dead grass breaking one after another.
He braced his right hand on his knee and slowly straightened. When his palm scraped across the stone, it left behind a gray-white smear. That fall just now had not been entirely faked—his left leg really was still trembling. Though his Kidney Meridian had been opened, it was like a ditch suffering from a long drought; the circulation of true qi remained sluggish and obstructed. But he could not stop now.
"Stop!" The disciple carrying the compass leaped onto the high bank, his voice cold and hard as iron. "You can't escape."
Chen Wuya did not answer. Instead, he raised his right hand and made a vague stroke through the air, as though measuring the direction of the wind. In truth, he could not see anything clearly. He only wanted them to think he was hesitating, calculating his escape route. He knew that this posture of hesitation was the best way to stir up an opponent's killing intent and contempt.
Sure enough, the disciple quickened his steps and drew his long sword an inch from its sheath. "Don't give him a chance to catch his breath!"
The other man also moved in from the flank. Once again, the two formed an angled pincer, clearly intending to force him into a desperate fight with his back to the river.
The corners of Chen Wuya's mouth twitched. Suddenly, he staggered, his left foot slipping across a slick, moss-covered stone, and his whole body tilted as he fell to one knee. He used the momentum to brace himself against the ground, breathing a little more heavily as cold sweat beaded at his temple. He looked utterly bedraggled.
"Out of strength?" the sword-wielding disciple sneered, though his feet unconsciously pressed two steps closer. "You're a convincing actor."
"I'm not acting." Chen Wuya lifted his head. His voice was hoarse, yet carried a trace of laughter. "I truly didn't expect that your Sect Master was still asking last night, 'Where did Remnant Karma go?' You didn't know about this?"
Both men froze at the same time.
The compass wielder knitted his brows tightly. "What nonsense are you spouting?"
"Does what I'm saying matter?" Chen Wuya slowly pushed himself upright, his right knuckles digging into a crack in the stone as he used it for leverage. "What matters is that you aren't even sure whether I took anything, are you? The Enforcement Hall sent you to arrest someone, but no one told you the truth. You're nothing more than knives running errands for someone else."
"Shut up!" the sword-wielding disciple roared. His sword came fully free of its sheath, its cold gleam wavering with the river's rippling reflections.
Yet it was precisely that instant of wavering that loosened their formation by a hair.
Chen Wuya suddenly raised his head, a flash of ferocity vanishing from his eyes. He drove off with his feet, his body launching abruptly—not retreating in a straight line, nor shifting sideways to evade, but using his right foot as a pivot. His left leg swept sideways like a wave crashing against the shore. His entire body was like a reed bent by the wind, swaying sharply to the left before folding back in the opposite direction the instant he landed.
This footwork had no pattern at all. Even he could no longer remember during which fall he had accidentally stepped out that rhythm. Yet the system seemed to sense some sort of unconventional trajectory. The warm current within his body quietly surged, shooting into the soles of his feet along a path it had never traveled before.
Within three steps, he had already closed in beside the sword-wielding disciple.
The other man instinctively raised his sword to block. The blade had only just begun to rise when Chen Wuya did not attack at all. He sank his shoulder and slammed it viciously into the man's ribs. Borrowing the force of his momentum, he suddenly exerted himself and sent the other man flipping into the heart of the river.
"Ah—!"
Before the cry had even faded, the man crashed heavily into the rushing black water and was swept several yards away in an instant, leaving behind only a whirlpool spinning between the rocks.
The remaining man's eyes nearly burst with fury. With a furious howl, he raised his sword and charged, its fierce momentum aimed straight at Chen Wuya's throat.
Chen Wuya advanced instead of retreating. His feet shifted, and he narrowly avoided the sword's edge, using the momentum to retreat to the edge of the riverbank. Pebbles kept rolling away beneath his feet, and splashes struck his trouser legs, cold enough to pierce the bone.
He stood there with the rushing river behind him, and an actual smile appeared on his face.
"When you practice the sword, you emphasize upright harmony and the smoothness of flowing clouds and water." He spoke slowly, his voice not loud but every word clear. "But have you ever considered this—water has never been obedient? It shatters when it strikes a mountain and plunges when it meets a cliff, but in the end, it still flows downward."
The man froze, and the momentum of his sword faltered slightly.
"So." Chen Wuya stepped back half a pace. The sole of his shoe landed on empty air where a slick stone had been, and his whole body leaned back slightly, as if he might fall into the river at any moment. "Those who walk in straight lines die the fastest."
Before the words had even finished, he spun around, spread his arms, and leaped into the rapids.
The river was bone-chillingly cold, swallowing him in an instant. A tremendous force dragged him downward, and the turbulent current carried him into a submerged reef. His shoulder scraped against a jutting rock, burning with pain. He held his breath and rolled several times underwater before barely steadying himself, then used the current's force to surge downstream.
On the bank, the sole remaining disciple rushed to the water's edge and pointed his long sword at the surface. He was furious yet helpless. He stared at the roiling black water, but Chen Wuya's figure had long since vanished. Only the waves kept striking the stones, their sound unending.
He gritted his teeth and sheathed his sword, then lowered his head to look at the compass in his hand. The needle was still trembling, but its direction had grown increasingly blurred, as though some force were interfering with it and gradually throwing it off.
"Who... are you, exactly?" he murmured.
By then, Chen Wuya was already a hundred paces away.
Half floating and half sinking, he drifted with the current. One hand barely clung to a floating Broken Branch, while the other pressed tightly against his chest. The fragment was still there, and the spot where it touched his skin retained a trace of warmth, like some kind of response.
He did not dare raise his head and could only let the river carry him forward. Above him stretched the pitch-black night sky. Now and then, a sliver of light slipped through a break in the clouds and shone onto the water, shattering into countless swaying silver flecks.
He spat out a mouthful of water he had choked on. His throat felt tight, and his limbs were heavy. Strangely, though, his mind was exceptionally clear.
That collision, that leap, that jump—every step had been like treading the edge of a blade. Yet each mistake had somehow been quietly patched over by the force within his body. He had even begun to wonder—was it precisely because everyone else thought he was wrong that he had managed to survive until now?
The current suddenly quickened, and the faint sound of a roar drifted from ahead.
He forced his head up and saw that the river narrowed here, its banks steep as walls. A drop like a broken cliff stretched across the passage ahead. At this point, the water plunged sharply downward, forming a concealed waterfall.
His pupils contracted.
There was no time to react.
His body had already been pushed toward the edge. The current swallowed him like a gigantic maw. At the final moment, the hand gripping Broken Branch jerked violently, and then his entire body was flung into the void.
During the descent, he heard his own heartbeat drown out the sound of the water.
Then darkness closed over everything.
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