The freezing wind over Mount Kunlun howled through the broken frame of the bone war chariot.
Crushed under the golden sovereign pressure, Envoy Zhao Wuji, Deacon Qian, and Elder Blood-Bone lay pinned against the wooden deck.
Every breath they drew tasted of ozone, amber starlight, and their own bitter blood.
Yet despite their terror, Deacon Qian’s ferret-like eyes still burned with stubborn, poisonous arrogance.
“Mortal!” Deacon Qian coughed, spitting a mixture of bile and blood onto his iron abacus. “Do you think brute strength can overturn the cosmic order of the Nine-Prefecture Immortal Continent?!”
Lin Mo stood thirty feet above them on floating golden lotus petals.
He held his hands loosely in his coat pockets, looking down with cold, detached curiosity.
“Enlighten me,” Lin Mo said, his voice flat. “What cosmic order?”
