Chen Wuya's fingers were still trembling, his palm tingling in lingering waves where the blood patterns had just faded. He took a step forward, but his knees gave way, and he nearly dropped to them. A hand promptly braced his shoulder. The force was not great, yet it was as steady as a mountain.
"Don't move." Bai Zhi's voice sounded by his ear, calm with a faint tremor that was hard to detect. "They're gone. If you chase after them now, you'll only throw your own life away."
He wanted to speak, but a metallic sweetness welled up in his throat, leaving him able only to cough softly. A prompt from Misaligned Practice Connects to Spirit surfaced in his mind: "Abnormal cultivation technique fragment cleared. Meridians undergoing repair. Recommend resting quietly for at least two hours." He closed his eyes, and at last stopped forcing himself onward.
Bai Zhi supported him as she turned him around, her steps slow yet resolute. Wisps of bluish smoke still rose from the scorched ground beneath their feet, which was hot to the touch. She did not take him far, merely leading him to a low thatched hut nearby—the place where they had temporarily settled before the battle. Its walls were packed earth, its roof covered in dry straw, its doorframe crooked, and only half a door remained.
She pushed the door open. Inside stood a wooden bed and a small table, while several old quilts were piled in the corner. A sliver of dim light seeped through the window cracks, falling upon the medicine chest by the wall. Its lacquer had peeled away, and its corners had been tied twice around with hemp rope.
Chen Wuya leaned against the doorframe, gasping, cold sweat covering his brow. Misaligned Force still coursed through his body,