The World Core settled into a state of quiet, blazing bright majesty.
Twenty thousand li beneath the surface of the continent, the chamber of the world-size center was no longer a tomb of black frost and shattered stone.
It was a sky cathedral of molten bronze and liquid gold.
The floating islands of nickel-iron had lined up into nested rings. He drifted in slow, perfect circles around the central plateau under the steady gravity lensing of Lu Chen’s domain.
Below the rings, the ocean of molten outer-core iron churned in rhythmic rising heat. It sent waves of deep earth-heat warmth pulsing upward through the mantle.
At the exact sharp-angled center of the world stood a solitary seat carved from glass-fused star-iron and solid world-size bedrock.
The throne of the World Core.
Lu Chen walked toward it across the glowing nickel-iron bridge.
