The twenty-eight swords turned in four rings of seven. Frost from one blade joined the frost from the next. Mud froze under the pines, and the first ring dived toward Pei Jing.
He kept his feet on the ground. The Seventh Pillar found the note of the bronze tablet in his marrow space. The two pulled together, and he felt his weight settle into the rock. He lowered the Astral Bone Blade until its black edge pointed toward the frozen mud.
As the seven swords came within reach, he swung the Iron Sweep. The old form took the blade level across the clearing. A wall of packed air met the swords. Their frost wards broke at once. The blades folded and spun into the pines, where the rock caught them. Broken branches fell across the frozen ground.
The force of the swing came back down the grip. Pei Jing carried it through his spine and out through his feet. A crack ran across the clearing between Elders Chen and Lu. They stumbled apart. Where pine needles had covered the rock a moment before, a bare circle steamed in the rain.
Chen stared at the wreckage of his swords. His fingers still moved as if he could call them back.
