The crunch of dry leaves beneath shoes still rang in their ears. Chen Wuya did not slow, but his gaze had already locked onto the depths of the forest ahead. The red-cloaked figures had just vanished around the bend of the northern path, yet before even half a cup of tea had passed, a dull tremor rolled through the ground again.
Fallen leaves whirled into the air, and loose stones bounced.
Han Tianba had returned. This time, he did not hide behind the rocks. He strode out from the trees, five Greenwood disciples fanning out behind him, their blades already three inches from their sheaths. The iron spear in his hand pointed diagonally at the ground, its shaft humming as though its fury could no longer be contained.
"Brother Chen." His voice was lower than before. "I left you a way out. Yet you insist on walking toward a dead end."
Chen Wuya stopped, his breath catching for a moment. The black jade at his waist pressed against his flesh, cold as a chip of ice. True qi crawled sluggishly through his meridians like the last trickle of water in a dried-up riverbed. He knew he could not drag this out any longer.
"You say I'm walking toward a dead end?" His voice did not tremble. "But clearly, you're the one who blocked every road."
Han Tianba sneered. "If I didn't stop you, could you leave? Among the thirty-six strongholds of Southern Ridge, which one does not heed the summons? Turn and run now, and before you've gone ten miles, you'll be surrounded beneath a cliff."
Bai Zhi quietly shifted half a foot, shielding Chen Wuya's side and back. She did not draw her sword, but her fingertips had already settled on its hilt. Her eyes swept over the disciples'