Pei Jing climbed the rest of the stair without answering Yan. At the top, his sandals came down on the white marble of the Outer Punishment Plaza.
The sect had brought its vassals across these stones for three hundred years. Anyone who fell short on a grain payment walked between two rows of swords before being made to kneel. The stone was polished well enough for a man to see his own face when he bowed his head.
Today there were three rows of guards. Cold breath rose over their dark armor. Pei Jing stopped forty paces from the first rank. He kept his hands loose in his sleeves. Beneath the brim of his hat, he could see two hundred men gathering qi into their swords.
They had spent years learning how a powerful cultivator was supposed to look. They would have recognized a man who brought thunder or golden light with him. This one had yellow mud on his tunic and smelled as if he had come up from a ditch.
Yan had moved behind the ranks to direct them. He raised a hand.
“Three-Tier Array. Shoulders and thighs. Pin him to the stone. Loose!”
Two hundred spirit-iron swords rose at once. The guards turned their sword fingers, and the blades swung inward in a wide silver arc. The Cloud-Parting Sword Volley had enough force to tear open an armored chariot.
