The broken edge of the marble terrace crumbled beneath Ye Chen's heel, sending a shower of white dust drifting into the black void below.
He held Lin Xi against his ribs with both arms, his muscles burning from exhaustion, while thirty paces across the ruined landing, the semicircle of corrupted elders closed the final gap.
The wind whipping up from the southern chasm smelled of boiling copper, sulfur, and unrefined alchemy dregs, but Ye Chen did not look down into the fog.
His dark eyes rose, locking onto the arrogant, painted faces of the men who had spent twenty years turning the mountain into an open slaughterhouse.
He looked at Sect Master Zhao Tianxiao, whose embroidered crimson robes billowed in the updraft, his hands resting on his scabbard with the calm, self-satisfied pride o
