In the cold hours after the first fight, grease began to harden in the cooking pots. Two hundred soldiers and eighty rogue cultivators had gathered behind the wagon barrier. Most kept their voices low. The wheels were still going over the stones behind them.
Pei Jing sat on an overturned barrel near the coals. The black blood on his sleeves cracked when he bent his elbows. The Bone Blade rested against the barrier. He opened his sharkskin notebook and found a blank page.
Captain Shi Kang and Master Qian came to stand before him. Six senior rogues waited behind Qian. They kept looking at the black crust on Pei Jing’s hands.
“The shells are piled eight feet high,” Pei Jing said. “They held against the smaller fiends. The next beast will be heavier.”
“I have three hundred wagoners who can work on the barrier,” Shi said. “They can bring the loose shells back and keep the broken carts from shifting.”
“Put them to it.”
Pei Jing looked at Qian.
“Three rules for the pass. First, four-hour shifts. At the end of one you eat, drink, and sleep. I need you alert when you come back. Staying up there until you fall off the ledge helps nobody.”
