Beyond the colonnade lay the garden of the Core Pavilion. White quartz covered the paths. Pines drooped over warm ponds, and jade bridges joined one bank to the next. The air still smelled of sandalwood and crushed orchids. The gardeners had fled down the kitchen paths when the dome fell. The golden carp had been bred for water rich in qi. When the dome failed, their ponds lost the current that fed them. They floated pale side up under the bridges.
One young man stood on the arch of the nearest bridge. Silver clouds shone on his white robes. A pale jade pin held his hair, and three perfume pouches hung beside a sword with pearls on its sheath.
Ling Chen looked twenty-four, though he had lived long enough to remember the funeral after Throat Pass. He was the second son of Supreme Patriarch Ling Xiao and the sect’s First True Disciple. People across Azure Province said his bloodline had carried him to Peak Foundation. The sect had spent eight hundred thousand Low-Grade Spirit Stones, sixty jars of marrow-cleansing dew, and four rare pills to raise him after the death of his older brother.
Pei Jing could see the young man squeezing the handle of a bronze mirror. It was eight inches across, with seven white diamonds around the rim. His father had given it to him so he could defend himself against a Golden Core cultivator.
