Ancestor Kunlun-Zi blinked through the dried crust of muck on his eyelids.
“A shift?” Kunlun-Zi croaked, his ancient vocal cords rasping like dry gravel. “What shift? I am the seventh-generation Supreme Ancestor of the Kunlun Cloud-Mist Sect! I have walked the peaks of the western ranges for three hundred and forty years! Emperors used to burn sandalwood incense just to ask for my discarded tea leaves!”
Beside him, Ancestor Blood-Sea tried to push himself up from the stone pavement.
“We are half-step Golden Core sovereigns!” Blood-Sea hissed, spitting out a speck of dried manure. “We slaughtered armies during the late Qing border wars! You cannot make us do mortal chores! Either decapitate us with righteous steel or let us commit spiritual self-immolation!”
Dr. Gu Qinghe stepped forward before Blood-Sea could even finish his sentence.
His slender fingers moved in a blur of golden light.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
Seventy-two slender golden needles flashed through the night air. Each needle carried a minute thread of celestial seal-water. They plunged cleanly into the acupuncture points of the five old monsters—neck, spine, elbows, and knee joints.
