From behind the twelve-sided pink coarse grey rock stone stand of the Sovereign Master builder, Yan Zhiqiu did not fire at Zhu Heling.
She was a trained royal archer of the Yan-Luo Dynasty, taught by the master bowyers of the Border Marches to analyze the entire tactical field before releasing a single shaft. She knew that Zhu Heling was protected by a said clearlyiron harness, a potion-made body-shield, and the chaotic spiritual aura of three burning dao-cores. An arrow loosed at his breastplate would likely deflect off the iron scales without piercing to the heart.
Her true targets were the two leftover acid cannons that guarded the southern exit.
The gunners on those carriages had recovered from the first shock of the Grand Borer’s destruction. Four hired blades, their faces pale behind their iron visors, were wildly re-aligning their bronze elevating screws, preparing to fire two sixty-pound canisters of aqua regia directly into the center of the hall to wipe out both Qiao Ming and the Scholar in a single, indiscriminate wave of chemical fire.
“Elevate to twelve degrees!” the battery sergeant screamed, cranking an iron hand-wheel. “Fire through the smoke! Melt the whole stone stand!”
Yan Zhiqiu drew her short horn recurve bow to the corner of her right jaw.
