He took one step forward, and all seven depressions in the floor lit up with an eerie blue glow at once.
Chen Wuya's pupils contracted sharply. The landing point of that step, its rhythm, its force—were exactly the same as when the puppet had been activated. No, even more precise than before, as though the veins of the entire secret chamber had awakened beneath this man's feet. Before he could think further, Misaligned Force instinctively churned through his meridians, attempting to redirect the impact in reverse and bleed off its force.
But this time, the power came faster—and heavier.
An invisible shockwave burst from the ground like the tolling of an ancient bell, making the stone walls hum. The three of them had no time to react before they were flung away. Bai Zhi, who had only just pushed herself up, lost her balance again. Her sword tip scraped across the floor in a shower of sparks. Mo Feng turned sideways to shield her, but the force struck his left shoulder and sent him crashing hard into a stone pillar with a muffled groan.
Gritting his teeth, Chen Wuya violently poured the remnants of his Misaligned Force into the Yongquan Acupoint on the soles of his feet, using the momentum to slide back three steps. His shoes dragged two scorched trails across the bluestone. Sweetness welled in his throat, and a thread of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away, staining his palm dark red.
"Don't take it head-on," he said in a low voice. "He's using the terrain to crush us!"
Before his words had faded, the figure was already right before him.
His black robes snapped in the air. He had not even raised his short blade, yet his mere presence congealed the