Lu Chen gripped the five-thousand-pound locking beam with his bare right hand.
He didn’t grunt.
He didn’t plant his feet in a bracing stance.
His broad back muscles engaged, the black glass melted rock waste-plating over his ribs sliding with a muted, metal click.
With a smooth upward pull, he lifted the solid iron beam from its floor socket and set it against the stone wall.
He pushed the vault doors outward.
SCREEECH.
The three-foot-thick plates of pig iron swung open on greased bronze hinges.
