New Deployments · Counteroffensive Preparations Officially Underway

Chen Wuya's fingers were still pressed against that rough sketch, its corners already softened by sweat. His knuckles whitened as he braced himself against the table's edge, his throat so dry it felt stuffed with grit. Bai Zhi stood at his side, her palm against the fabric on his back, feeling the muscles beneath the coarse cloth twitch faintly.

The tent flap lifted, and a cold wind swept dust motes inside. Several generals had already taken their seats. Their gazes fell upon him—some appraising, some doubtful, while others turned their faces away, unwilling to look at him any longer.

Qin Lie stood beside the sand table, his wooden staff lightly tapping the western ridge of Yellow Wind Valley—the very blind spot Chen Wuya had marked last night. He said nothing, only lifted his eyes toward the seat of command.

The commander-in-chief sat unmoving, his voice steady. "Can you stay on your feet?"

Chen Wuya did not answer. He merely drew a slow breath. A dull ache ran through his ribs as his lungs expanded, but he forced the pain down into the depths of his consciousness. The Misaligned Practice Connects to Spirit system quietly activated. A strange warmth rose from his dantian, surging upward against the flow through the eight extraordinary meridians, forcibly reconnecting his fractured perception. The blurred light and shadows before his eyes solidified once more.

"As long as I don't talk for too long." He finally spoke, his voice hoarse but steady.

"Then be brief," the commander-in-chief said. "We already know the vanguard's results. What we need now is the next step. You were both there in person and the source of these unorthodox strategies. Tell us what you think."

An old general gave a cold snort. "What can a young man who survived by crooked tricks