At the western rim, Pei Jing could see clouds two miles below him. They broke against the shoulders of the range like waves against a wall. The wind smelled of the dry salt and scrub of the Great Sand Sea.
He set the Astral Bone Blade on a flat block of glass beside a second rainwater pool at the western rim. He pulled a spare pair of boots from his storage ring and put them on. He wanted to know what his legs and the Armored Soul could do without a flying sword or a travel talisman. For most of the next two hours he practiced taking the pull into his legs and opening hand-wide folds in front of the soul’s little blade. He closed each fold before starting another. He saved the long strides and the descent for the last part of the session.
Mount Ironfang stood fifty leagues to the west. Its summit showed through a break in the clouds. Pei Jing took the stance of the Shrinking Earth Stride and felt the soul raise its own five-inch blade. A thin line opened in the air ahead. Through it, he could see the blue ice at the top of the distant mountain.
