The first bolt hit the tip of the Astral Bone Blade. There was no thunder before it. A column of bronze fire met the star iron and rang like a bell above the clouds.
Pei Jing’s boots sank three inches. Granite melted around them, leaving a pool of black glass twelve feet across. Sparks went past his ears on the wind.
He kept the blade upright. His palms went the color of scorched lead. Under them, his Martial Saint marrow took the force that would have burned through ordinary flesh. Most of the heavenly charge passed through his bones and into the mountain. He drew the rest into his Dantian.
Bronze fire ran into the cracks he had opened with the Internal Martial Hammer. The shell softened along the breaks. Thick gold hung there long enough for the soul to reach up and draw it down. Through their woven links, Pei Jing felt the small hands fold the gold over the soul’s chest.
Then the next bolt struck. Then the next.
Every three seconds, the blade rang again. The force made blood come into Pei Jing’s mouth. He could feel it run down his chin and hit the glass near his boots. He kept his hands still. When the next blow came, he let his bones take it before he tried to breathe again.
