Intelligence Exchange: Mastering the Enemy's Movements

The record scroll showing three columns of smoke from the Western Ridge lay spread across the table, its scorched edges curling slightly. Chen Wuya pressed a fingertip against the gap between the second and third columns, rubbing back and forth with the pad of his finger. Wind blew slantwise through the tent flap, making the paper's corners tremble, yet he seemed not to notice. He closed his eyes and focused.

The Misaligned Practice Connects to Spirit system quietly operated within him. True qi ran in reverse through his extraordinary meridians, reconstructing one detail after another—the previous day's wind direction, the texture of the burned remnants, the duration of the smoke columns. A moment later, he opened his eyes and said softly, "They weren't distress signals, nor were they warnings."

Qin Lie stood beside him, his brow faintly furrowed. "Then what did they mean?"

"An argument." Chen Wuya tapped the scroll. "The three smoke columns were evenly spaced, but the second burned for half a quarter-hour less—meaning whoever lit it was interrupted. There's discord among them, and they're desperate enough to disregard protocol."

The tent fell silent for a moment. Bai Zhi stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over the scroll before lifting toward several unfamiliar faces who had just entered. They wore ordinary soldiers' uniforms, but carried no sabers at their waists. Their cuffs had been worn pale, yet their eyes were sharp as hawks.

"They're from the intelligence unit," Qin Lie introduced them briefly. "For the past five days, every border scout report has been compiled by them."

One of them stepped forward and spread out a stack of thin sheets. "The eastern watchtower put out its lights half an hour early, but its nighttime patrols increased by two rounds. Three convoys headed south. Their wheel ruts were deep, their