The Sunflare Charm cracked like lightning hitting an anvil. The white-gold flash filled the shutter, the workshop, and the alley beyond.
Chen had been leaning closest when it went off. The blow ripped the crowbar from his hands and sent it skidding thirty paces into the mud. Fire caught his sheepskin coat. He fell through the frame onto the workshop floor and lay there, choking amid the splinters.
The edge of the blast threw Zhao back into the alley. He stumbled four paces with both hands over his eyes. The chalk mist ward woke as the force of the Sunflare reached it. A white cloud spilled through the opening and rolled out along the cobbles. Zhao reeled straight into it. He screamed, dropped his crossbow, and sank to his knees.
Li brought his spiked gloves up in time to save his throat. The mist found its way around them. He cried out and staggered. He could see out of only one eye.
“Treachery! He’s warded the floor. Meng, kill him!”
Li swung the mace wildly through the cloud. His gauntlets scraped plaster off the wall.
Meng had heard the ward crack an instant before it went off. He threw himself against the alley wall and covered his good eye. His shoulder guard was scorched, and the heat had burned his ribs through the hide. He clenched his teeth and drew his cleaver. Layer Four qi gave its edge a dull gray light.
