Beitang’s boots struck wet granite. He came through the rain with the halberd in both hands. The crescent at the end of its six-foot shaft gave off purple light. Drops that touched it vanished in little puffs of steam.
The point flickered three times. Pei Jing caught each thrust with a small turn of the Astral Bone Blade. Three clear notes rang through the clearing. He felt the strikes all the way to his elbows, but the black edge held. The grip stayed cold in his hands.
Beitang gave up the small thrusts. A coil of lightning wound down the shaft as he brought the crescent around. The air burst ahead of it. Strips of bark flew off the pines.
Pei Jing set his weight into the rock and raised the blade. For an instant the tablet in his marrow space felt as solid as the mountain itself. The Seventh Pillar matched its note. He would lose it if he let go to turn the whole field against the halberd. He kept it where it was and took the blow through his feet.
Purple light filled the clearing. Two pines broke at their bases and flew into the dome. Their trunks struck the boundary and fell back into the mud. The force from the halberd passed into Pei Jing’s wrists. He let it run through his spine, down through his legs, and into the rock. Cracks spread out from his feet. His grip did not move.
