Blistering heat scorched the ocean mist as the forty-foot blood-clone expanded his burning chest.
Ancestor Pyre’s avatar stood tall upon the Ashen Sun flagship. Golden fire wrapped around his crimson torso like coiling serpents, lighting the black sea for twelve miles.
The clone channeled his Saint Vessel Law directly into his vocal cords.
“Listen well, vermin of the reef!” the blood-clone thundered, his voice echoing off the basalt cliffs like rolling bronze drums. “Behold the supreme heritage of the Ashen Sun Sanctuary!”
On the sea-gate ramparts, Claire Vance adjusted her footing on the slick stone. She raised one hand, reinforcing the outer barrier with a fresh thread of Saint Vessel Mid Qi.
Beside her, Sera tightened her grip on Storm-Pike. Arcs of blue lightning hissed against the rising waves of dry heat.
“Why is he shouting so loudly?” Sera muttered, shielding her eyes from the glare. “If he wants to stab us, he should just stab us.”
“Old sect masters enjoy an audience,” Claire replied calmly. “They believe victory without witnesses is wasted effort.”
