They cared for He Xuan's father for two whole days.
It wasn't the "taking turns keeping watch" kind of care, but the "full-team magnetic field synchronization" kind. The Weather Membrane was set to "Convalescence Mode," the Blood Mist automatically filtered the air, and the Particle Person turned into a comfort cat—occasionally a pillow, occasionally a teapot. Chen Mo was forbidden from practicing his boxing, only allowed to practice cooking, which resulted in his fried rice being more of a time capsule. Zhong Li recorded the magnetic field fluctuations daily, having already filled seven notebooks, titled from Father's Magnetic Field Diary, Vol. 1 to Vol. 7: The Tea Water Edition.
He Xuan sat by the bedside every day, his magnetic field gently connected, as if he were guarding time itself. "He's still here," He Xuan said. "I can feel him."
Qin Hao checked the life-layer every day. The condition was stable but showed no improvement. "It's like he's locked inside a countdown," he said. "All we can do is stay with him."
On the morning of the third day, the Weather Membrane automatically cleared to sunshine, and the Blood Mist began to withdraw, as if it knew they were leaving. The Particle Person turned into a compass, drifting back and forth in the courtyard.
"We should go," Lu Ye said. "The ship at the Singapore port is ready." "The destination is Malaysia," Zhong Li added. "A five-hour voyage, stable magnetic field, Weather Membrane support."
He Xuan stood by his father's bed and whispered, "I will return." His father didn't respond, but the magnetic field gently trembled, like a silent agreement.
They packed their luggage; the Particle Person automatically handled the task, placing Chen Mo's boxing gloves and Hu Hao's teapot in the same bag. "You are creating a conflict," Hu Hao commented. "You are creating the Tea-Punch school of martial arts," Chen Mo retorted.
Zhao Yang adjusted the Blood Mist to "Sunblock Mode," Lin Lan set the Weather Membrane to "Seabreeze Adaptation," Zhong Li recorded the ship's course magnetic field, and He Xuan slowed time to give everyone a little extra leeway while packing.
They didn't say goodbye. They just stood at the courtyard gate for a moment. The Weather Membrane gently drew inward, the Blood Mist was like a curtain, and the Particle Person floated in the air as a tiny boat.
"We're going," Lu Ye said. "We're not running," Chen Mo said. "We're going to fight," Zhao Yang said. "We're going to investigate," Zhong Li said. "We're going to find answers," He Xuan said.
They left the small town and walked toward the port. The Singapore sea breeze carried a hint of cream—perhaps a Sensory-type had opened a breakfast shop near the docks.
The ship was not large, but its magnetic field was stable. The crew was a mixed team of Construct and Water types, and the hull was built from particles, making it anti-carbonization, anti-high-temperature, and anti-Hu Hao's tea-brewing.
"Are you an ability squad?" the captain asked. "We're the currently-not-fighting squad," Zhao Yang said. "We're the packing-our-emotions squad," Zhong Li said. "We're the getting-ready-to-fight squad," Chen Mo said.
They boarded the ship; the Particle Person transformed into a seagull, hovering over the bow. The Weather Membrane expanded, the Blood Mist retracted, and the magnetic field began adapting to the maritime rhythm.
Zhong Li stood at the bow, looking into the distance: "We... have truly begun." He Xuan stood next to him: "We... cannot be slow."
The ship sailed out of Singapore harbor. The sea breeze was steady, the Weather Membrane expanded, the Blood Mist retracted, and the Particle Person, now a seagull, drifted over the bow.
Zhong Li sat on the deck, recording the sea surface magnetic field fluctuations. "The waves aren't big today, the magnetic field is calm, the tea won't spill." Hu Hao: "Are you saying I can brew ship-tea now?" Chen Mo: "Are you saying I can practice sea-punches now?" Zhao Yang: "Are you saying I can get seasick now?"
He Xuan stood at the stern, his magnetic field slowing time; the seagull near him flew in what looked like slow motion. "I feel like this journey of ours... is too quiet." Zhong Li: "You're calling the plot."
The plot arrived.
The ship suddenly shuddered. The Particle Person's alarm activated, and the magnetic field scan showed: an ability user had appeared below the deck.
He slowly walked up, his pace like he was negotiating with the Earth with every step. His figure was tall, his movements slow, and his magnetic field was stable like a dormant mountain.
"Who are you?" Chen Mo asked. "I am Force," he replied. "Are you a Strength-type?" "No. I am Force."
Chen Mo didn't hold back, throwing out a punch—Shattered Time Punch, Fifth Segment—the air vibrated, and the deck shook. Force raised his hand and slowly blocked the punch.
It wasn't a parry; it was a—catch. Like catching a flying star, and then gently—returning it.
Chen Mo was thrown back five meters, landing near the stern, leaving a crack in the deck. The Particle Person turned into a question mark and hid inside Hu Hao's teapot.
Zhong Li stood aside, finally putting down his notebook. He raised his hand, the magnetic field vibrated, and the air rippled.
"I'm done writing," he said. "I'm going to project."
The magnetic field within a one-kilometer radius began to reconstruct. Zhong Li activated "Live Playback," and a visual emerged—the recent fight, unfolding from multiple angles simultaneously.
Chen Mo's punch, Force's catch, the counter, the Particle Person being swatted back, the Blood Mist being compressed, the Weather Membrane being diverted—every detail was magnified, broken down, and reassembled.
"I am now the recorder," Zhong Li said. "And the analyst."
He isolated the moment Force raised his hand, slowed it tenfold, and observed the muscle vibration, the magnetic field fluctuation, and the shift in foot weight.
"He's not slow," Zhong Li said. "He's coiling power." "He's not blocking," Zhong Li said. "He's borrowing force." "He's not counter-attacking," Zhong Li said. "He's rebounding."
He Xuan stood nearby, his time-slowing magnetic field synchronized with Zhong Li's playback. "We can find the rhythm," he said. "We can find the gap."
Zhong Li isolated the angle of Force's fingertips as he caught Chen Mo's punch. "In that split second, his magnetic field had a slight tremor." "That means he didn't catch it perfectly." "That means there's a cost for him, too."
Chen Mo stood up, wiping the corner of his mouth: "Are you saying I can hit him again?" Zhong Li: "You can hit him again, but this time, don't just deliver a package." Hu Hao: "You can hit him, but don't hit our tickets."
Zhao Yang tried to use the Blood Mist for interference, Lin Lan adjusted the Weather Membrane to create a fluctuating magnetic field, Lu Ye constructed the Particle Person into a "Magnetic Field Interruption Type," He Xuan slowed time, and Zhong Li synchronized the playback.
They surrounded him, but Force stood his ground, like a wall. Every attack was slowly caught by him, and then slowly returned. Not a counterattack, but a—return strike. Not violence, but—physics.
Zhong Li pulled up the magnetic field oscillation spectrum from the playback, discovering that after every return strike, Force's magnetic field had a 0.3-second "rebound period."
"That is his gap," Zhong Li said. "We shouldn't hit him; we need to hit his rebound."
Chen Mo: "Are you saying after I hit him, I have to wait for him to catch his breath?" Zhong Li: "I'm saying you have to fight like a physics teacher." Hu Hao: "I'm saying we have to fight like a physics problem."
They tried to coordinate, but Force's magnetic field began to adapt. The rebound period shortened, and his attack rhythm became harder to predict.
Eventually, they were cornered at the stern. The Weather Membrane was compressed, the Blood Mist was solidified, and the Particle Person, a question mark, hid inside Hu Hao's teapot.
"We are now in a trapped state," Zhong Li said. "We are now in a compressed state," Zhao Yang said. "We are now in a physics state," Chen Mo said.
Force stood at the bow, his magnetic field stable, as if waiting for them to figure things out for themselves.
They didn't run. Nor did they give up. They just started to think about how to beat an enemy who was not fast, but undeniably strong.