The temperature in Throat Pass fell thirty degrees in three seconds. Fog turned to hail and rattled on the shale. Thick sheets of ice formed along the walls with sharp cracks. Pei Jing’s breath froze against his lip.
Thirty paces from Pei Jing now, Ling Feiyu stood on the flat boulder. His cloud-silk robes snapped in the wind. He looked into the recess and saw Sun in the mud and Yan facedown. Farther back were Zhao’s abandoned tools. Three disciples had gone down in less than ninety seconds. Ling had heard only the crack of the Gale Shield.
He looked at the man in the frosted hemp coat. The Cloud-Splitter was still sheathed.
“The herb gatherer.”
His voice rang through the gale like a silver bell.
“I saw you take the chain. The Blood-Thunder ward should have killed you with the others. How did you get out of that hall?”
Ling held out two fingers.
“You found a marrow cache down there. I can see the change in your bones. Now you think crushing three worn-out men from my party gives you the right to fight a True Disciple of Cloud Mist.”
