Misaligned Force Paves the Way, Breaking Through the Siege

Blood slid down the blade, pounding little pits into the sand. Chen Wuya knelt on the ground, his right hand twitching, his entire arm seeming locked in iron chains, unable to move. He could hear the crisp clash of blades ahead, see Bai Zhi weaving among the black-clad men, yet his own body was like a broken wooden puppet, unable even to stand steadily.

But he could not fall.

He clenched his teeth, splitting his tongue again, and the taste of blood burst across his mouth. In that instant, something within him seemed to ignite—not true qi, nor the warm current of unblocked meridians, but a twisted, chaotic force that nearly churned his organs to pieces, erupting from the depths of his dantian.

Misaligned Force.

The system gave no response, no notification chime, but it was moving. That force surged upward against the flow through the Eight Extraordinary Meridians, bypassing blocked acupoints and forcibly carving a crooked passage through severed pathways. His right arm jolted violently, blood beginning to flow again as needle-like agony pierced deep into his marrow.

He pushed himself up, gripping his sword with his left hand while his right arm hung at his side. It had not recovered, but Misaligned Force was already circulating over the surface of his body, forming a faint, barely perceptible shockwave.

"Move!" Bai Zhi's voice tore through the battle. With one thrust, she flicked open a man's throat, then spun and kicked down another ambusher lunging for the stretcher. Not a drop of blood stained her flexible sword, but her movements had noticeably slowed. She was clearly at her limit as well.

Three black-clad men still guarded the gap with grim determination, their blade formation airtight, preventing the foreign cavalry from charging forward. A Central Plains soldier carrying a stretcher tripped,