The grand writing hall was quiet save for the heavy, rhythmic breathing of Tie Shan and the agonized whir of ancient stone gears.
The twenty-three-foot titan build remained trapped in the bear-smith’s grip. Its massive black glass fists trembled with uneven spasms, grinding against Tie Shan’s star-iron forearm as its internal high-pressure gears struggled to overcome the sheer living mass of the titan-bear sovereign. Every few heartbeats, a puff of acrid, oily black vapor escaped the seams of its neck housing. He carried a stench that made Su Ling’er wrinkle her nose and flick her white fox tails in agitation.
“Hold him steady right there, Tie Shan,” Lin Xiao murmured. He stepped closer to the build’s massive right ankle.
“I have him, Lord Xiao,” Tie Shan grunted, his fur rippling with golden life-force as he locked his boots into the flat stone slabs. “Though I’ll say, this fellow’s core has remarkable stamina. Even after ten thousand years without upkeep, his drive pistons are pushing with the force of an unbridled river. If his gears were actually oiled, he might have tossed me through three rows of bookshelves by now.”
“Which is why we’re going to fix him before he hurts himself,” Lin Xiao replied.
