The Dao Sovereign

# Chapter 20: The Dao Sovereign

The bench wobbled.

Huo Yan tested it with one palm flat on the plank—pressed, released, pressed again—and the wobble answered each press with a tilt to the left where the rear leg's peg had been shaved a grain too thin. Sawdust clung to his knuckles. His wounded shoulder had stopped smoking three days prior, but the arm still moved as though the air it passed through was slightly thicker than air should be, and he compensated with the rest of his body the way a river compensated for a stone: not around, but *over*, with force that looked like ease and cost more than either.