Mid-Evacuation · The Alien Races' Frenzied Pursuit

The pinpoints of torchlight linked into a line below the slope, like a crimson snake crawling slowly onward.

Chen Wuya lay hidden behind a jumble of rocks, one palm pressed to the ground as Misaligned Force silently seeped into the stone strata. The vibrations traveled back along his meridians, breaking the footsteps down into rhythms—dense in the center, light and quick on both flanks. Three routes advancing in parallel, clearly intending to encircle them.

Without raising his head, he drew three lines in the dirt with his fingers.

Bai Zhi understood at once. One hand steadied the wounded man on her back, while the other lightly pressed the shoulder of the soldier beside her, signaling them not to move. The group huddled within a hollow at the crest of the slope, their breathing suppressed to the faintest whisper. Smoke and dust drifted from behind them, mingled with a scorched smell that concealed their scent.

The pursuers drew ever closer.

Shadows were already flickering through the woods to the right. Armored figures moved by stepping along branches, their movements crisp and clean—clearly elite scouts. The left side appeared open, yet Chen Wuya sensed several sets of footsteps touching down with extreme lightness, their landing points evenly spaced, as though their rhythm had been deliberately controlled to hide their numbers.

"We can't go either way," he said quietly. "There's an ambush on the right. The left is bait."

Bai Zhi pressed her lips together, her gaze sweeping over the dense forest ahead. The shadows of the trees were thick, branches and leaves intertwined so tightly that no path could be seen. She had just begun to speak when Chen Wuya raised a hand to stop her.

He took half a yellowed scrap of paper from his robes, its ragged edges suggesting it