The six ink tentacles struck downward like black glass guillotine blades.
Before the acid-burning sludge could splatter Frank’s tea leaves, a wall of star-forged load-bearing iron stepped into the impact zone.
CLANG—!
Shen Shitou planted his twenty-pound forged sledgehammer flat against the flat stone slabs, angling his broad back at a precise forty-five-degree bending slope. His forty-two tiny fraction of an inch silver-steel-heavy dark metal channels flashed with dull amber light as striking force cascaded through his frame.
The faster-than-sound strike of the mutated Hall Master shattered against Shitou’s iron shoulders with a sound like a freight train hitting an anvil. The blast wave blew the surrounding rain into a fine mist, but Shitou’s steel-toed boots didn’t slide back a tiny fraction of an inch.
“Impact load: twelve thousand pounds,” Shitou reported calmly. “Deflected safely into the foundation footing, Master.”
“Good job,” Frank said, casually sliding his brass measuring tongs into his overalls pocket. “Keep him off the table. Sudden heat shock from cold bile will crack the fire bowl.”
Across the courtyard, Elder Gu and his sixty armored guards peeked out from behind their linked tortoiseshell shields, eyes wide with disbelief.
