The Third Prince Flees in Defeat, Preparations for the Coronation Ceremony Are Complete

The Misaligned Force in Chen Wuya's palm had yet to dissipate, and the airflow between his fingers still carried a scorching tremor. He neither withdrew his hand nor pressed forward another half inch. He simply let that twisted force hover three inches before Tuoba Lie's brow, like an invisible nail pinning him firmly to the ground.

Tuoba Lie had his eyes closed, his breathing heavy, cold sweat beading at his temples. He wanted to circulate his power in resistance, but his meridians seemed tangled by something. The moment his true qi rose, it collapsed, and even his dantian felt faintly hollow. This was no ordinary suppression by inner force, but an unfamiliar pressure that seemed to burrow out through the cracks of his bones.

System stirs: [Assessment: Non-aggressive suppression. Error Rationalization—mental suppression pathway completed.]

Chen Wuya said nothing, merely lifting his wrist slightly. The Misaligned Force rippled. Tuoba Lie's eyes flew open, his pupils contracting violently—he saw his father lying in a pool of blood, the wound from the blade curled open, his eyes hollow. It was the most painful memory of his life, the starting point of the vengeance that had set a blade in his hand. Yet now, that memory had become the shackle that crushed him.

"You..." His throat worked, his voice dry and hoarse. "What kind of method is this?"

"Not a method," Chen Wuya said softly. "You stopped believing you could win long ago."

By then, Bai Zhi had walked over to the Blood Demon Saber. She did not bend down to pick it up. Instead, she flicked the blade embedded in the stone steps sideways with the tip of her sword, then planted her foot on its spine and slowly pressed it into the dust. The ruby on the hilt knocked against