The bands tightened around Yan’s wrists and knees. The second pattern in the air above his chest tipped toward him, and qi surged through the restraint line into his body.
It scraped through his channels. His breath caught, and the qi in his core bucked against the forced current. He kept his own circulation separate, but the array held his limbs too tightly for him to move away from the flow.
Zhao watched the pulse stone. “Increase it.”
The attendant turned the seal. The bands bit into Yan’s wrists. A hard wave of unfamiliar qi pressed along his meridians, dragging his breath toward a rhythm he had not chosen.
“This is not a diagnostic,” Yan said. He could barely keep the words even. “It is an attack.”
“It is a measurement,” Zhao replied. “Your channels are responding.”
“Because you are forcing qi through them.”
Bai shouted toward the far door. “Examiner Luo!”
