Elder Sterling took the rolled vellum from Sera’s hand. His fingers trembled against the stiff imperial parchment.
He held it close to a lantern, his weathered brow creasing as he traced the silver crow seal.
“Dragon-Vein Resonance Drums,” Sterling whispered, his voice dry as cracked bone. “The Censorate actually authorized them for a frontier garrison.”
“What does that mean for us, Elder?” Mina Vance asked. She wiped salt dust from her forehead, clutching her cold-iron short sword.
Sterling looked up, his eyes shadowed with deep worry. “The frontier array already suppresses our Qi by seventy percent. These drums are forged from bronze and corrupted earth-marrow. When Dravus beats all three together, the vibrations lock into the stone veins.”
“And the suppression?” Sera asked.
“Eighty-five percent,” Sterling replied grimly. “At that density, Golden Core cultivators can barely keep their organs warm. A Nascent Soul feels like their dantian is packed with wet cement.”
A heavy silence settled over the subterranean terrace.
