Chen Wuya slowly lifted his palm from the table. The faint glow along the edges of the pages went out as he withdrew the Misaligned Force. The ink lines on the meridian diagram gradually cooled, returning to their original stillness like a receding tide. He did not look at the book again. Instead, he gently pushed it to the corner of the table, his movements as steady as if what had just happened had been nothing more than an ordinary demonstration.
The figures around him remained gathered close, their gazes nailed to his body. The Heavenly Sword Sect elder still stood atop the stone block, his purple robe swaying lightly in the wind, but his eyes were graver than before. The Green City Sect disciples murmured among themselves, their voices lowered, yet every word carried probing unease.
"You just said you'd let us see with our own eyes that the 'Heavenly Machine Scroll' isn't a riddle." At last, a Green City Sect disciple spoke. The mockery had vanished from his tone, replaced by caution. "But now what? You broke one branch and tore off a piece of sleeve, and you dare call that a solution?"
Chen Wuya did not answer at once. He lowered his head to look at his fingers. His fingertips were still slightly numb—a lingering effect of circulating his true qi in reverse—but he had long grown accustomed to it. He raised his eyes, sweeping his gaze over the man's face and then across every pair of eyes in the crowd.
"What do you want?" he asked. "Do you want to see me recite the Heavenly Machine Scroll word for word? Or do you want me to write out a new one right here?"
No one answered.
"Since you can't understand the deduction, then look at the