Firelight leaped between the stone pillars, casting the blood pattern in Chen Wuya's palm into flickering light and shadow. He still gripped a corner of the torn cloth in a death hold, damp warmth seeping from its edges—whether sweat or blood, none could tell. Bracing himself on one knee, his knuckles had turned white from the strain. The broken blade lay slanted before him, embedded in the ground, its hilt trembling faintly.
Bai Zhi leaned against his back, breathing hard. The fingers of her right hand were curled, and the metallic tang from where she had bitten them open still lingered at her fingertips. She said nothing, only slowly shifted her weight backward and pressed more of it against his shoulder, signaling that she could still stand steady.
Across from them, Blood Without Trace slowly raised a hand. The black mist gathered anew, forming a churning vortex before his chest. Tuoba Lie planted his blade tip against the ground, a gash splitting the web between his thumb and forefinger. Blood slid down the blade's spine and dripped onto the scorched earth with a faint sizzle.
"You think you injured me?" Blood Without Trace's voice was hoarse. "You merely... disturbed my peace for a moment."
Before his words had faded, he abruptly pressed his palms together. The black mist contracted sharply, forming a revolving force within his body. At the same time, Tuoba Lie let out a low roar. Bloody light burst from his meridians and converged with that undercurrent at his chest. Their auras linked once more, denser than before, as though an iron chain ran straight through them both.
Chen Wuya's pupils constricted.
This was more than joining forces, and it was not fusion either—they were using each other's qi circulation paths to patch the flaws in their own