The golden light slowly faded into stillness in his palm. Chen Wuya's fingers curled slightly, as though he had only just come back to himself after a long journey. He neither fell nor moved; he simply stood there, his gaze resting on the scorched earth ahead. Rubble, broken blades, and shattered armor lay scattered across the ground. The wind swept up ashes and spun them through the low air.
Bai Zhi stepped forward, her footsteps soft, as if afraid of disturbing something. She said nothing, merely standing at his side as her gaze swept over the battlefield before settling on his hand. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor still lingered there, like the last traces of warmth not yet dispersed.
"You're injured." Her voice was quiet, but it was not a question.
Chen Wuya shook his head, his throat somewhat dry. "I burned through a lot, but I can still hold on."
Not far away, Chen Yao suddenly rushed over and threw her arms around his leg, looking up with a radiant grin. "Dad! You flew so high just now!" Her little face was smudged with ash, and a patch of herbal salve was stuck to her temple, but her eyes shone like stars.
Chen Xuan ran over as well, clutching that specially made wooden sword. Its tip had already cracked. Imitating his father's final strike, he fiercely thrust forward and shouted, "Misaligned Force—Burst!"
Mo Feng was crouched beside the wreckage of the mechanisms. Hearing the shout, he could not help lifting his head with a smile before quickly lowering it to continue twisting a copper tube. Sweat beaded on his forehead, one corner of his collar had been scorched away by the flames, and his fingers were smeared with grease, yet his movements remained deft.
Leaning on his cane, Old