Secret Peeping, the Foreign Race Has Noticed

Chen Wuya moved his fingers away from his ear, the piece of darksteel fragment leaving a faint mark across his palm. He did not put it away at once. Instead, he turned it over and lightly scraped the engraved pattern on its reverse with his nail. Under the moonlight, that mark glinted coldly, like some sort of signal.

Wind blew in through the mouth of the valley, carrying the dampness of night dew. He suddenly stopped moving, his gaze sweeping toward the rock wall at the edge of West Zone Three. The blades of grass swayed faintly, their rhythm uneven—not the way they would move in a natural breeze.

Bai Zhi was lowering her head to sort through the blueprints when she heard him softly call her name.

"Go to the workshop and tell the brothers on rotation not to speak while changing shifts." His voice was flat, without a ripple. "Then collect all the vibration plate remnants into a box. Don't leave even a speck of debris behind."

She looked up at him once, asked no questions, and turned to leave. Her footsteps were exceedingly light. The sword hilt at her side swayed with her stride, yet not a trace of metal striking metal could be heard.

Chen Wuya remained where he was, slowly slipping the fragment into his robes with his right hand. He closed his eyes briefly. The Misaligned Practice Connects to Spirit system began to operate silently within him, his perception extending outward through the ground. It was neither hearing nor sight, but an indescribable sensation—like the eddies that formed when a current met an obstacle.

At the southeastern corner, three zhang below the cliff, there was an exceedingly faint sense of stagnant true qi. That person had held his breath for too long; the circulation