The ground beneath Loose-Cultivator Alley tore open with a sharp, violent shriek.
Three geysers of crimson light erupted through fractured cobblestones. Demonic runes pulsed with sickening heat, spitting sulfur and dark blood-mist into the winter air. Ten pounds of compressed demon-beast blood powder had reached critical ignition, already shredding stone pavers into lethal shrapnel.
Behind the barrier, five hundred wounded loose cultivators stood packed inside the narrow thoroughfare. If the shockwave washed through the alley, the heat would reduce them to scorched bone.
“Die together, you miserable street dogs!” Deacon Gui shrieked from behind his iron junction box, blood frothing at his lips. “Nobody defies the Murong clan and lives to brag about it!”
Tie Qiang shoved two younger apprentices behind him. He raised the broken half of his iron spear, preparing to throw his own flesh against the rising explosion.
“Get behind me!” Tie Qiang bellowed through cracked teeth.
Before the veteran spear-master could step forward, a mountain moved.
Tie Niu lunged across the cobblestones, heavy boots gouging deep ruts into the earth. The massive warrior did not hesitate. He planted his legs over the central vent, spreading his arms wide between the rising fire and the defenseless cultivators.
