The portal of the sovereign cenotaph led into an austere, massive vault sixty arm-lengths square, built entirely from blocks of dark, unpolished andesite clamped with recessed bronze staples. There were no columns here, no machinery, and no storage racks. Standing in the center of the hall, rising ten arm-lengths from a stepped eight-sided stone temple steps, was a single box-shaped stele of solid star-fallen steel.
This was Entry hall 703: The Stele of the Last Sovereign. Unlike the arrogant doctrinal monuments of the Great Schema, this stele bore no complex gear diagrams and no royal coats of arms. Its steel surface had been scoured flat by hand-held gritty stones, and carved into its face with deep, chisel-cut strokes was the personal confession and final proof of Emperor Tie Han.
Qiao Ming approached the monument with bare, silent feet. His calloused soles climbed the three steps of the andesite stone temple steps, stopping two paces before the steel face. The yellow light of their horn lantern washed across the chisel cuts, making the dark characters stand out with razor-sharp clarity against the steel grain.
Yan Zhiqiu climbed up beside him, setting down the Broken Slate at the base of the stele. She lifted the lantern high, her eyes scanning the opening lines of the royal proof. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the handwriting. Not the formal cuneiform of court scribes, but the jagged, forceful script of a ruler who had seized the hammer and chisel with his…
