Elder Mo bore down on Pei Jing with a five-hundred-pound mace in his hands. Earth qi ran from tooth to tooth along the bronze head. The long haft beneath it was dark wood. The wind from it swept the needles aside. The rain turned to steam before it could reach the weapon.
Pei Jing stepped in and raised his braced arm. The wood struck it with a crack. Splinters fell between the two men. Mo still held the mace, but its head had stopped in the air. The force came back down the handle and opened his grip.
“How can your arm do that?”
Pei Jing felt the Seventh Pillar take up the load in his spine. He turned the Astral Bone Blade in his free hand and struck Mo with the iron ring on the hilt. A pulse of heavy qi went through the bronze plates. Mo’s armor buckled across his chest. His breath left him and never came back.
The mace fell with a dull clang. The last of the force carried Mo backward. He struck the edge of the crag and fell out of sight. Mist closed over the place where he had gone.
Less than forty-five seconds had passed since the swords first came down. Two of the elders lay in the mud. The third had gone over the cliff. Pei Jing could still feel the shock of the mace in his left arm.
