The warehouse had gone cold. Blood soaked into the sawdust. Meng Kui backed away until his armor struck a stack of paper bales. Dust fell over his shoulders.
Twenty years earlier the Golden Sun guards had found him sleeping under their steps. Now he commanded them. He’d broken merchants’ knees and drowned herbalists in the canals. He’d survived blows from sect swords. Now a man with a chipped cleaver had put down his best guards in less than half a minute.
“You’re trapped too,” Meng said. “Thirty guild guards patrol these streets. They keep a life tablet in the guild hall for captains like me. Let them find it cracked and you’ll have every guard in the city on you. You’ll never leave the city.”
Pei Jing had never seen such a tablet in Golden Sun’s hall. If there was one, it could tell them Meng was dead. The fire could still hide who had been there and what he took. He kept walking. Twenty paces became fifteen. Then ten.
Meng clenched his jaw and charged. Earth qi filled the broadsword. He crushed a jade charm against his chest, and a gold shell four inches thick rose over the first ward. The Golden Light Vajra Charm had cost forty mid-grade stones. It could take three blows from a mid-stage Foundation flying sword.
