Misaligned Force Breaks the Enemy, Reverses the Situation

Blood from his palm dripped onto the sand, slowly seeping along the tremor pattern that had yet to fade. Chen Wuya's fingers twitched faintly, not from pain, but because he had sensed something—the Misaligned Force had not dispersed. Instead, like a thin thread, it was being gently tugged by some rhythm beneath the earth.

Without looking up, he said in a low voice, "Don't move."

Bai Zhi froze halfway through helping him up, her gaze falling on the hand he had pressed to the sand. She did not ask. Holding her breath, she stepped back half a pace, sword tip lowered to the ground as her eyes swept vigilantly over their surroundings.

The enemy troops in the distance had already re-formed their ranks. Eight heavily armored soldiers once again arranged themselves in a wedge formation, their synchronized steps pressing forward with the steady beat of drums. The cavalry wheeled around and closed in, torchlight casting a cold gleam over their blades.

Yet Chen Wuya closed his eyes.

The Misaligned Force moved ever more sluggishly through his meridians, like a trickle struggling through a dried-up riverbed. But he no longer forced it onward. Instead, he tried to guide the remnants of his true qi, bit by bit, into his palm and along the route where the blood had seeped, sending it into that tremor pattern.

At first, there was no response.

Not until the seventh step fell.

The ground's vibration abruptly changed frequency, strangely aligning with a disrupted channel of force within him. In that instant, the Misaligned Force slid several feet ahead along the tremor pattern. Like a fuse meeting an oil trail, it spread soundlessly.

He opened his eyes.

"Wait until they take another seven steps," he said.

Bai Zhi frowned. "You still want to fight them head-on?"

"Not