The instant that scarlet gleam quietly vanished into the crystal pillar's base, Chen Wuya's pupils contracted. He did not look again at the diagram on the dome, nor did he touch the fragmentary scroll. Instead, he sharply turned sideways and yanked Bai Zhi half a step behind him.
Almost at the same moment, the rock overhead exploded with a thunderous crash.
Shattered stone rained down, mingled with the shriek of snapping iron chains. Dozens of figures leaped down from every direction. Not one stumbled upon landing; their movements were as uniform as if drilled a thousand times over. They wore dark-gray fitted garb beneath light armor and carried strange weapons—hooked sickles, short halberds, three-pointed double-edged blades. Every edge glimmered with a ghostly blue, clearly poisoned.
The leader stood atop a high rock, his face veiled in black cloth, exposing only a pair of cold eyes. With a sweep of his hand, the others immediately spread into formation and charged the central stone platform. Their target was clear: the diagram's projection had yet to fully fade, and the residual crystal cores on the ground still pulsed with faint light.
"The red light was a guiding talisman!" Chen Wuya growled, his voice kept low. "They followed the energy veins in!"
Before his words had faded, Bai Zhi had already drawn her sword. Her flexible blade flicked out like a spirited serpent's tongue; with one lift and one twist, she forced back two hook-sickle wielders. Her footing remained steady as her sword swept sideways, knocking a third man's short halberd three inches away from its course as it barely grazed her shoulder.
Chen Wuya did not draw his sword. With his back against a stone pillar, his gaze swept rapidly across the enemy formation. Their attacks were vicious, yet they were not blindly