Crown Prince Jiang Chen was not merely angry.
He had passed beyond ordinary rage into the pure, delirious fury of an aristocrat whose world had been dismantled by technical drawings.
He stood in the center of the Grand Terrace, his hair wild, his royal robes stained with soot. He stared at the two-story granite duplex that sat unmoving on the white marble floor.
“An illusion!” Jiang Chen shrieked, his voice bouncing off the granite giant pillars in jagged echoes. “It’s a sight array! A phantom conjured from sky moisture and spirit-stone fumes! No mortal can create permanent stone with paint!”
He thrust his right hand into his space-folding ring.
CLANG-SHING.
With a sound like the ringing of temple bells, Jiang Chen drew the supreme war relic of the Great Da-Qi Dynasty: the Nine-Sun Blazing Greatsword.
The blade was seven feet long, forged from five thousand pounds of folded star-iron. Then it cooled in dragon blood.
