Chapter 5: Challenge Review

After a long moment, she opened her eyes. Within those clear, bright pupils, there was no fear, only the excitement of someone about to step onto a brand-new stage.

She moved.

Without any warning, her body sprang forward like a fully drawn bow suddenly released. Her first step landed barely three inches away from a tripwire. As her toes touched the ground, she could feel the subtle vibration of the animal-sinew cord caused by the shifting air.

Immediately after, her figure transformed into a blurred black streak, darting at high speed through the tangled rocks and trees. Her path was eerily unpredictable; at times she slid low along the ground to avoid a sweeping bamboo spear, at others she used a rock for leverage, twisting in mid-air to narrowly graze beneath a descending iron net. Sometimes, she would abruptly change direction mid-sprint, causing a volley of poisoned blow-darts to miss their mark and thud into the tree trunks behind her.

In the distance, Bai He and the elders were stunned.

They had anticipated that Bai Chenxiang might be disheveled, perhaps injured, or even eliminated during the first wave of attacks. They had never imagined they would witness such a breathtaking display. This was no desperate escape; it was a performance. Every movement Bai Chenxiang made was filled with astonishing grace and efficiency. Her evasion was not mere avoidance; she used the terrain and momentum to conserve power for her next movement even as she dodged. Her body seemed boneless, possessing an incredible flexibility that defied conventional human limitations as she contorted and pivoted at high speeds.

"How is this possible?" one elder muttered, his voice lost. He did not even notice that the teacup in his hand had tipped over, spilling scalding tea all over his fingers.

Bai He remained silent, but his fists were clenched so tightly that his nails bit deep into his palms. He saw more clearly than the others. Xiangxiang was not truly able to foresee every trap; several times, she had narrowly escaped the jaws of death solely through superhuman reflexes and an instinctive sense of danger at the very last moment.

Once, a ground spike hidden in the grass suddenly shot upward. With no room to dodge, she had channeled her soul power into her toes in an instant, pushing off the very tip of the sharp bamboo spear to vault away. The entire movement was so fast that it left only a faint afterimage in the air. Another time, as two iron nets fell from opposite sides, she suddenly crouched and pressed her hands to the ground, sliding through a gap of less than half a foot between the two nets in a maneuver that defied belief.

Thrilling! Heart-stopping! Every second challenged the nerves of those watching.

However, the miracle could not last forever. The Thousand-Mechanism Array was, after all, the crystallized effort of their predecessors, and its complexity and treachery far exceeded Bai Chenxiang's expectations.

As she succeeded in crossing the majority of the rock forest, with her physical strength and soul power heavily depleted, a trap she had failed to sense in advance finally took effect.

It was a combination trap. As she leaped high to avoid a row of ground spikes, a horizontal log disguised as a dead branch was suddenly triggered by a mechanism, sweeping toward her with overwhelming force. With no leverage in the air, she was about to be struck.

At the critical moment, Bai Chenxiang forced her waist to twist in mid-air, shifting her torso—which should have taken the brunt of the blow—to take the impact on her left arm instead.

"Thud!"

With a dull impact, she fell like a bird struck in flight, letting out a pained cry as she crashed heavily to the ground. Directly where she landed, she stepped into an area coated in sticky tree resin, and her feet were instantly held fast.

The traps were linked, one after another.

"Xiangxiang!" Bai He’s heart tightened, and he moved to rush over, his figure flickering.

"Don't come over!"

A cold, sharp command stopped him in his tracks. Bai Chenxiang struggled to climb to her feet, her left arm hanging at an unnatural angle—clearly dislocated. Her small face was deathly pale from the intense pain, and fine beads of cold sweat broke out on her forehead, yet her eyes remained bright, even burning with a hint of vexation and unwillingness.

Looking down at her trapped feet and then at the still-swaying log, she did not cry. Instead, she seemed to have discovered some fascinating new toy, a thoughtful curve appearing at the corner of her mouth. She did not try to struggle free; instead, she supported herself with one hand, closed her eyes, and entered the state of "Wind Whispers" once more.

She was reviewing and analyzing. The failure was replayed in her mind repeatedly. Why hadn't she sensed the log? Was it because it was covered in dead leaves, sounding exactly like a normal branch when the wind blew? Or was it because she had been so focused on the spikes at her feet that she ignored the danger above? The resin trapping her feet had a faint scent, almost completely masked by the smell of the damp earth. Next time, she would have to elevate the precision of her perception to another level.

Not far away, Bai He stood frozen, watching the stubborn little figure with a complex mix of emotions. He remembered her words: "Not being hit is the strongest form of defense." Today, she had been hit. But this was not a failure of her defense; it was an essential cornerstone on her path to the "strongest defense," one forged through pain and frustration.

He slowly pulled back his foot and stood straight again, though his eyes, looking at his granddaughter, now held a glimmer of something he himself had not realized: respect.

In the end, Bai Chenxiang’s first attempt at the Thousand-Mechanism Array could not be considered dignified. Her left arm was dislocated, her feet were stuck, and she was immobile, like a fledgling bird caught in a spider's web.

Bai He arrived in an instant, as if tearing through the air. His usually composed face was now etched with undisguised anxiety and self-reproach. He knelt, checking her injuries with a touch so gentle it seemed he feared this rare, precious jade would shatter.

Yet, the crying and shrinking back he had expected never came. On that small, bloodless face, her eyes were startlingly bright, like two stars burning fiercely in the night.

"Grandfather, I understand now."

She drew a soft, sharp breath as she spoke, her voice trembling slightly from the pain, but her tone held no hint of defeat—only a strange, intense excitement.

"Understand what? The price of being reckless?" Bai He hummed irritably, though he reached into his robes to produce an exquisite jade bottle, pouring out a small amount of emerald-green paste. A clear, refreshing herbal scent instantly filled the air; it was the "Green Herb Paste," a miraculous healing medicine he had cherished for years.

As the paste touched the swollen joint, a cooling sensation permeated her skin and flesh, dispelling the burning agony. Bai Chenxiang narrowed her eyes in comfort, looking very much like a cat being stroked, but her words showed no sign of admitting defeat:

"My Wind Whispers isn't detailed enough. I can hear the wind brushing against dead branches, but I can't distinguish between a lifeless twig and a 'live' branch connected to a mechanism."

"I could smell the resin, too, but it was masked by the scent of earth and rotting leaves. My perception instinctively ignored it."

She lifted her clear, bright eyes to meet her grandfather’s worried gaze. "My perception is like a fishing net with meshes that are too wide. It can catch the big fish, but it lets countless more lethal tiny shrimp slip through."

"And in a real life-or-death struggle, it is these tiny shrimp that I ignore that are the most deadly."

Bai He’s hand, which was applying the ointment, paused involuntarily. He looked up, gazing deeply at his six-year-old granddaughter. She was not complaining about the treachery of the traps or fearing the pain of her injuries; in the very moment of failure, she had conducted the calmest, most profound self-analysis.

This disposition, this insight—let alone a six-year-old child, even many so-called experts he had seen who had spent decades struggling in the soul master world could not necessarily compare.

The restlessness and self-reproach that had risen in his heart because of his granddaughter's injury seemed to be blown away by a gentle breeze, vanishing into thin air. In their place was a deeper shock and an indescribable sense of pride. He suddenly felt that his previous worries—about her martial soul defects or the treacherous path ahead—seemed so insignificant, even laughable, in the face of such a rock-solid heart.