The air in the cave began to tear before the lightning reached it. Three thousand paces of dark rock and granite stood between Pei Jing and the eye in the sky. He could feel its gaze through every layer.
He untied his bamboo hat and set it beside the rations chest. He put his water canteen and storage satchels within reach. Then he took out the Black Mountain Whetstone and held it between his palms.
He moved the sheathed blade, the stone and the knife onto the table on the high side of the platform. If the rock gave way he would have to leave on one jump.
The walnut-sized core in his dantian was trembling. Magma, ice, venom, lightning, and sun waited under the gold shell. They had come together, but he could still feel where each fire met the next. The heavenly bolts would fuse those last seams if his body could carry the charge.
Most cultivators spent years gathering talismans, puppet guards, and arrays to take part of the force of the tribulation. Pei Jing had washed his marrow with lightning and strengthened it with the Verdant Life Pillars. Every charge he could carry into the core would go into the work he had come here to finish. He left the space above him clear.
