Gathering Evidence, Exposing the General's Conspiracy

The wind and sand swirled outside the tent. Chen Wuya's fingers still rested on the edge of the curtain, his gaze fixed on that old tent in the distance. The cloth atop it billowed faintly in the wind, as though someone had slipped inside not long ago.

He did not move. He merely slowly withdrew his left hand into his sleeve, his fingertips pinching a pellet of Breath-Calming Powder. The pill was rough, its edges biting into his skin, but he did not frown.

Bai Zhi stepped out from the shadows within the tent, her footsteps as light as if she were walking on snow. She glanced at the old tent, then at Chen Wuya. "You intend to let him finish talking?"

"No," he said quietly. "This time, we can't just listen. We need to see it and lay our hands on it."

He put the pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry. His throat bobbed once, his breathing gradually slowing, his heartbeat sinking low. This was the method Old Wu Tou had taught him. Combined with Misaligned Force, it could make the body lie as still and silent as a corpse.

Bai Zhi drew the flexible sword at her waist, though not to strike. She twisted off a hollow copper tube from the end of its hilt and took out a copper disc as thin as a cicada's wing—the Sound-Listening Disc Mo Feng had given her. Without a word, her figure flashed, skimming close to the ground as she slipped into the night like a ripple across water.

Chen Wuya waited a moment, confirming that the night patrol's footsteps had faded into the distance before slowly rising. He circled behind a charcoal cart, lifted its cover, and pulled out a bow from beneath—not one for shooting arrows, but