Thick in the dry basin air hung the scent of boiled bile and scorched stone.
In the center of the emptied crater, Lu Chen sat cross-legged upon a massive slab of exposed dark rock.
His thirty-five-pound Dragon-Severing Blood Cleaver lay across his knees, its blade still warm to the touch.
Behind him on the crater’s edge, An Ni stood guard beside the wagon, her heavy hammer resting against her thigh, her gray eyes watchful.
Within Lu Chen’s lower dantian, three thousand five hundred units of purified malice churned like black fire in a sealed iron boiler.
The energy was dense, volatile, and ready for starting.
Lu Chen closed his eyes, his breathing slowing to three deep, rhythmic cycles per minute.
His mind sank inward, locking onto the sky screen of the Asura Crucible.
