Pei Jing crossed into the Inner Orbit on the seventh day. Sword Sovereign Xiao’s floating dais was only two hundred paces away now.
The blades here had belonged to the Sovereign himself. There were greatswords of clear jade from the deep sea, broad executioners’ blades made for two hands and black swords of fallen star metal. The heaviest weighed more than six hundred pounds. They passed with the steady thunder of falling rock.
The air was hot and heavy. Under fourfold gravity, the wind driven ahead of the swords stayed close to the path. Even a blade that missed could hit a man with enough force to break his ribs.
Pei Jing left the Cloud-Splitter strapped to his back. He had wrapped it in oiled linen the night before, after seeing how far the cracks had spread. He doubted it could take another collision.
A fish in a deep trench could swim into a crack barely wider than its body. It tilted its fins and let the current carry it in. Sword Sovereign Xiao had learned to move like that twelve hundred years ago.
Pei Jing set a foot on the narrow path. He kept his eyes soft and watched the whole sweep of the vault. A black greatsword came low out of the dark, straight toward his hips. When it was three paces away, the air it drove before it pressed against his chest. He let that pressure shift his balance and took half a step along the curve…
