The scent of burning sandalwood failed to mask the tension in the Grand Disciplinary Pavilion.
Forty-eight hours after the lightning had ceased, Lin Ke stood at the center of the polished black glass hearing floor. He wore a clean, plain grey student robe, its wide sleeves hiding the fresh linen wraps that bound his forearms and the tight splints stabilizing his fractured left collarbone.
Behind the raised trial bench sat seven elders.
At the center, raised on a throne carved with soaring birds of prey, sat Elder Kuang. The Golden Core elder’s eyes were cold and unblinking, his yellowed fingers resting lightly on the handle knob of a sheathed punishment broadsword.
Beside the prosecutor’s dais stood Zhao Wuji, freshly washed and dressed in clean indigo silk. He held a bound stack of eighty gold-edged parchments.
“Elders of the Disciplinary Hall! Zhao Wuji’s voice rang with righteous anger, echoing off the high vaulted ceiling.
“The evidence is incontrovertible! A mortal fire slave with zero bloodline legacy, possessing crippled glass spirit veins, survived a Four-Nine Starry Sky-trial that boiled away forty yards of solid dark rock!
Such a strange flaw can’t occur through traditional methods!”
