The stone path was twelve feet wide. Its loose basalt slabs hung above a drop of three thousand feet. Pei Jing felt the floor tremble under his boots as the earth veins shifted. It reminded him of the deck of a barge tied up in a storm. He had to trust that it would still be there after he put his foot down.
Three paces from the shelf, his vision narrowed. His legs felt full and heavy. He stopped, set his feet farther apart, and lowered his weight until his back and hips lined up. Then he drew one long breath after another. He felt his bones settle. The ache in his calves eased as the blood began to move again. After three minutes, he could see the edge of the path clearly.
Long before he had refined his first drop of qi, he had carried hogs and hauled grain along mountain ridges. He knew what happened to the body when a load shifted and the carrier tried to catch it with his shoulders alone.
The Cloud-Splitter rested across his forearm. Under the pull here, it weighed about a hundred and sixty pounds. He could hold it up for a little while. If he tried to fight with his arm alone, he would soon lose his grip. He remembered the old rule from the butchery. Plant your feet and turn your hips. Let the arm carry the force to the edge.
