Beneath Lu Chen’s iron boots, the royal bedrock glowed cherry-red.
Around him, the mountain of white ash that had once been the Dragon of Sins was already scattering into the white-hot air currents. He drifted like glowing embers toward the shattered rafters.
His right hand remained clamped around the cord-wrapped handle of the thirty-five-pound Dragon-Severing Blood Cleaver.
The square tip of the blade was buried four feet deep in the dragon-vein anchor stone, acting as an earthing rod for the dying sky tremors below.
Lu Chen’s chest heaved once, deep and slow.
The two-hundred-and-fifty-degree living overclock was exacting its brutal clockwork toll.
Inside his chest cavity, the golden channels of his blood-flow network creaked under three million pascals of internal vapor pressure.
His blood, boiling far beyond the threshold of ordinary mortal survival, hissed wildly against the inner walls of his vessels.
