Late on his tenth day in the vault, the open pit lit the chamber white. He would use what was left of the day to prepare the binder. The first full day of forging would begin at the next bell. Pei Jing stripped to the waist. Sweat ran down his back while his Viscera Refining kept the worst of the heat from reaching his organs.
He left the star iron on the anvil for now. Once he got it soft enough to work, he would have little time to look for a missing tool or finish preparing the binder.
On the workbench stood a heavy iron mortar. He opened the ivory box and lifted out three of the twelve Shed Saint Marrow Crystals. In the harsh light they looked like slabs of hard honey with dark veins running through them. He could remember the years of iron-palm strikes, the long stances under cold water and the pots of ginseng medicine he had used afterward. The crystals held the result of all that work. Because they had come away before his spirit channels opened, they also carried no qi that a suppression array could get hold of.
He set the plates in the mortar and took the pestle in both hands. The first strike left a white mark. The next opened a crack. He kept a steady pace, letting the weight of the pestle help him. After twenty minutes the amber chips had become a pale powder.
