By morning, the storm had cleared. Pei Jing sat on a shelf of black rock above the white cloud sea. He had pinned three drawings to a pine board so the wind couldn’t take them. They showed how the Divine Cloud Sect built its Nine-Sky Thunder-Repelling Pavilion. A builder on the road north had sold him copies of the plans and the quoted prices for the materials.
The pavilion cost forty-eight thousand high-grade spirit stones. Twelve jade pillars and a hundred layers of warding held off most of the force from a tribulation. The elder inside could sit on a cushion while the outer layers took the blows.
Pei Jing drew a charcoal line across the bottom of the drawing. He could see how a broken layer might pass its load to the next. If enough layers went at once, the elder would be sitting where all the leftover force met.
Even if the pavilion held, it would keep most of the fire away from the core. Pei Jing needed the heavenly lightning to burn the last impurities out of his marrow and fuse the plates around his soul. A shield strong enough to spare him might also leave the work unfinished.
