Chen Wuya lowered his head and stared at the dark red smear on the sole of his shoe, lightly grinding the gravel beneath his toe. The blood had already dried, sticking to the edge of his cloth boot like he had stepped on something rotten.
He neither looked up nor spoke. He merely crouched down slowly, bracing his right hand against a slanted protruding rock for support. The meridians in his right arm still twitched faintly. The sluggish blockage left by the Misaligned Force taking a wrong path was like a fine thread wound through the cracks of his bones, pulling painfully whenever he moved.
Bai Zhi stood half a step behind and to his side, her fingers resting on her sword hilt as her gaze swept across the scattered stones. She did not ask, but her breathing was shallower than usual.
Chen Wuya slowly leaned forward, using his shadow to conceal the movement at his waist as his left hand quietly reached for the cloth pouch on the corpse from before. The instant his fingertips touched the oil paper, he deliberately kicked a small stone aside with his heel, producing a crisp clatter.
Wind blew in from the mouth of the valley, sweeping up wisps of dust. The hawk still circled overhead, its wings tracing slow arcs through the air.
Without betraying a hint of it, he drew out the letter and swiftly tucked it into the inner layer of his pack. He casually pushed the "Night Illumination" blue brick farther inside, covering the corner of the letter. Then he rose, dusted the dirt from his knees, and acted as though nothing had happened.
"They weren't coming for us," he said.
Bai Zhi frowned. "But that strike just now was clearly meant to kill."
"The killing strike was real,