Pei Jing released the Judge’s wrists. Qi Shenxiao staggered back. The fire around its hands hissed when it touched the molten rock.
Four paces away, the Astral Bone Blade stood where Pei Jing had planted it. He pulled it free. Two small nicks caught the light, but the edge was straight. He put it in the sheath. The strap settled across his back with the weight of a bundle of firewood.
“A blade is a tool,” he said. “When the work is done, it goes back on the peg.”
The Judge turned its chest away from him. The exposed core had already bent a little light into the shape of a door. Pei Jing stepped between it and the opening. His right hand hung open by his hip. The scar on the knuckle was one he had made before he owned a good knife.
