The blood flow of the people around him, the rhythm of their breathing, and the vectors along which every kind of force traveled all transmitted back into Qisai's enhanced mutated tissue.
Every person's bodily shifts were rendered vividly in his mind, granting him a grasp of everyone's movements.
Among them, Chen Chuan was not the most conspicuous, yet he was the most stable.
Almost unnervingly stable.
In an environment like this, anyone would feel nervous, fearful, agitated, or thrilled. Yet none of those stirred within Chen Chuan. He was like a tranquil lake: even if a slight ripple drifted across the surface now and then, it stayed strictly on the outermost layer, leaving the depths entirely undisturbed.
This immediately seized Qisai's full attention.
Seeing Chen Chuan approach with drawn blade and enter range, Qisai drew back the arm holding his whip, then whipped it forward with full force, sending the lash cracking straight toward Chen Chuan.
Chen Chuan did not dodge as Wei Chang'an had done. Slashing or parrying a whip with a saber was an inferior tactic; instead, he simply fixed his gaze on the direction of force in the arm opposite him. The instant it swung, his hand shot out—and with a resounding crack, he seized the very tip of the whip right in his grip!
He could see that nearly half of the Second Self's arm had blurred into near-nothingness, showing just how much limb-shattering power had been packed into the blow. Without the Second Self, the bones at the point of contact would have been shattered to splinters, tearing flesh and blood to shreds.
Qisai was stunned. He had never encountered anyone who caught a whip strike head-on with bare hands, let alone at the tip, where the whip's full momentum peaked.
He immediately yanked back. Even if the boy had managed to snatch it, the point of contact had to have taken a severe shock, meaning a hard jerk would almost certainly unbalance him. But the moment Qisai applied force, a counter-force surged back through the lash. Far from pulling Chen Chuan off-balance, Qisai was jolted forward instead.
He instantly knew something was wrong. Sure enough, the very moment his balance shifted, Chen Chuan's gaze sharpened. The youth lunged forward, raising his blade to thrust straight at Qisai's chest.
Fortunately, there was still some distance between them. Qisai shifted his weight, sidestepped to dodge, and whipped a short baton from his waist with his other hand, deflecting the upward diagonal slash that followed and using the momentum to spring backward.
With a roll of his wrist, Chen Chuan spun the blade and stepped in, bringing an overhead chop down toward his skull. Qisai gripped the whip handle in one hand and wound the short baton around the whip cord with the other, hauling it upward diagonally. The cord snapped taut, barring the path of the falling saber.
The whip was made of some unknown, remarkably resilient material; the blade only bit slightly into it before rebounding. Anticipating this, Qisai twirled the baton in a swift spiral the moment he parried, trying to bind the saber with the whip.
Chen Chuan had never seen such a combination of whip and baton. Instead of pulling his saber free, he shoved it forward, making a minute adjustment to the hilt mid-motion so that the point aimed straight for Qisai's head.
Seeing the tip thrusting at him, Qisai hastily yanked the whip cord to deflect the blade. But just then, a shadow blurred before him—Chen Chuan had let go of the Xuejun Saber and darted inward, a fist rocketing straight toward his head. The move was so blindingly fast it was as if he had materialized right in front of him.
Qisai raised the hand holding the whip handle, trying to use the taut cord to parry the punch away. But Chen Chuan bent his arm, converting fist to elbow, slipping directly through the opening created by the raised guard to drive hard into his chest!
Qisai wore a fairly thick protective suit, but what Chen Chuan unleashed was not penetrating jin; it was a ramming shove designed to throw him off balance.
Yet Qisai's reaction was remarkably deft. In that split second, his body seemed to divide into two independent halves: his lower body remained rock-solid, feet planted firmly into the earth, while his torso turned astonishingly supple. The shoving force merely caved his chest in without dislodging his footing.
Sensing this bodily transformation, Chen Chuan stepped forward, planting a foot behind Qisai's leg. Leaning into him, Chen Chuan let his jin abruptly explode. Qisai could hold his ground no longer and tumbled backward.
While midair, Qisai sensed Wei Chang'an shifting his gun barrel toward him. Through the contraction of his mutated tissue, he curled and twisted his body sideways. Crack! Crack! Two bullets struck his back, but the maneuver ruined his landing, sending him crashing hard onto his side.
Most of his attention remained glued to Chen Chuan. Glimpsing the youth reclaim his saber and prepare to advance, Qisai rolled to the side and moved to push himself up. But before he could rise, a sense of dread gripped him—and almost simultaneously, a muffled gunshot thundered in his ear.
By the time he registered what had happened, half of his lower leg had already flown off.
High on the distant watchtower, Wei Chang'an's team member worked the bolt of his fortification-piercing rifle, ejecting a spent casing, and aimed once more. In his sights, however, the figure abruptly ducked into an adjacent tent. The marksman clicked his tongue in regret; Qisai had only briefly crossed into the light, which had granted him that single clean shot.
Chen Chuan had held back when Wei Chang'an fired, but that subsequent sniper shot had been brilliant—timed to perfection, it had effectively crippled most of the man's combat ability.
Nodding toward the team member on the tower, Chen Chuan said to Wei Chang'an, "Brother Wei, I'll deal with him. Help suppress the bandits."
Wei Chang'an agreed decisively, slapped in a fresh magazine, and rushed ahead to reinforce Luo Kaiyuan, Cai Si, and the others.
As Qisai rolled, the mutated tissue in his body squirmed, drawing the wound shut and stemming the bleeding. Even minus a leg, he moved with startling speed. Once inside the tent, he crawled out from under the bottom canvas and slipped into another tent.
It was barely past four in the morning. The sky remained dark, and smoke still hung in the air. While others might struggle to see, it worked to the advantage of someone versed in Maka karma-channel study. He could sense others while they had no idea where he was. If he could buy just a moment of respite, he might still turn the tables.
Chen Chuan stood motionless. Looking at the Second Self, he noticed that beyond the arm blurred during their clash, the Second Self as a whole showed a faint blurring when near Qisai.
This was strikingly similar to what happened when encountering an urban legend. He deduced the man had to be carrying something unusual, which conveniently served as a beacon to track him.
He paced through the open ground of the camp, tracing the deepening effect until he pinpointed his quarry's location. An old military tent appeared ahead.
Chen Chuan did not slow down, continuing past as if unaware. Just as he drew abreast of it, the Xuejun Saber suddenly stabbed sideways.
Inside the tent, Qisai was crouching on his lone knee, short baton gripped in hand, waiting for Chen Chuan to pass before looking for an opening. A chill of warning hit him. He ducked, just as a blade point punched through the fabric, grazing his shoulder before ripping sideways to tear a massive gash across the canvas.
A savage snarl twisted Qisai's face. Missing a leg, retreat was impossible; lunging forward was his only sliver of hope. With a roar, he hurled the baton and kicked off with his remaining leg, throwing himself forward to tackle Chen Chuan.
Chen Chuan paid the flying baton no heed. Locking his eyes on Qisai's hurtling form, he shifted his blade to rest against the man's neck. Riding the bandit's forward momentum, he drew the edge across with a smooth slice and stepped aside.
Qisai tumbled past, rolled forward, and struggled onto one knee. He tried to marshal his mutated tissue to seal the wound, but half his throat had been laid open. Blood fountained out, entirely beyond control. He stared fixedly at Chen Chuan for a second, then crumpled sideways.
Chen Chuan flicked his wrist lightly and studied the fallen man for a moment.
In his assessment, this man's skill had not been far below Douma's. Had that rifle shot not grievously crippled him, the two of them might have had to duel for quite some time.
Yet this was not a solo duel, but a clash between two teams. Fairness and chivalry had no place here; every tool had to be utilized until one side was stripped of all threat.
Scanning the surroundings, Chen Chuan stepped forward and stripped a bracelet from Qisai's wrist. It appeared to be carved from bone—and it was precisely this object that caused the Second Self to faintly blur.
After a brief thought, he pocketed it. Moving to the side, he picked up a rifle beside a dead bandit and joined the mop-up of the remaining outlaws.
During the initial assault, more than half of the bandits in the camp had been wiped out. The surviving eight or nine had retreated into the camp's deepest section.
This was the most fortified redoubt in the entire camp, encircled not only by stacked barricades and obstacles, but also offering abundant cover.
Yet under the cover of smoke grenades and pre-dawn darkness, they could hardly land effective shots. Meanwhile, Chen Chuan's side relied on their superior arm strength to lob smoke grenades deep inside the redoubt, further degrading the bandits' ability to return fire.
Mitai took a quick headcount. Including himself, only fourteen men were left—and that counted two Maka students who had fled Yangzhi City to hide here.
Worse yet, only part of their group had been armed with firearms to begin with, and most of those had been lost in the fighting outside. Including themselves, only six now possessed guns—hardly more than their attackers—while the rest had to make do with crossbows.
What made him particularly anxious was how silently the attackers had breached the perimeter. They were clearly formidable. Even if they could hold out, how could he be certain the enemy didn't have reinforcements on the way?
Just then, You'an returned from checking the rear. Approaching Mitai, he whispered, "Boss, we're in trouble. The rear path is blocked off too. We're completely hemmed in."
Now that matters had reached rock bottom, Mitai calmed down. He pondered and asked, "Could this have something to do with that thing?"
If it was related to that item, it meant word had leaked. Even if they defeated this group, another wave would surely follow.
"Boss, no matter what, we've lost too many men," You'an said. "We don't know the enemy's full strength, and they clearly have masters with them. We can't stay bottled up here—we need to break out first. We still have an armored vehicle and an off-roader; we can take a few boys and punch through." He glanced around. "Boss, where's Qisai?"
Mitai shook his head. "Haven't seen him since he went out. He's either hiding or dead."
You'an cursed under his breath in frustration. Qisai was both their overseer and their liaison; losing him would complicate many things. "Forget it," he said. "As long as we have the item, the delegation won't dare renege on us. Boss, let's find a way to withdraw first."
The two conferred and judged that the enemy's main firepower was concentrated at the front, while only two or three seemed to be holding the rear. They decided to break out from behind.
However, they couldn't pull everyone back at once; someone had to hold the front.
'No choice,' Mitai thought. He barked, "Yatan!"
An extraordinarily hulking man stomped over with heavy strides. "Boss, what are your orders?"
"Take a few men and pin yourself to the front," Mitai said. "Hold them off. You'an and I will slip out the back and circle around to hit them in a pincer. You must hold this position!"
Yatan grinned eagerly. "Leave it to me, Boss! With me holding the line, they won't get through."
While Mitai was issuing orders, outside the perimeter, Ren Xiaotian drove his off-road vehicle around. Hauling several specialized spike strips out of the back, he worked alongside three men from Wei Chang'an's team to anchor them firmly across the only escape road leading out from the rear.
Chapter 132