The dawn wind at the foot of the Heavenly Ascending Stairs tasted of cold mist and wild pine.
Lin Ke stood before the first step of the nine-thousand-stair marble raised stone road that soared upward from the red-roofed slums of the Outer Sect, cutting through the swirling sea of clouds into the jade-paved peaks of the Inner Mountain.
Behind him in the grey morning fog stood three figures.
Meng Shan’s arms were bound in clean linen, his massive frame wrapped in the new, indigo-trimmed tunic of the Chief Smelting Overseer. He didn’t say much. He stepped forward, raised his right arm. Then he struck his own broad chest with a heavy, iron fist salute that rang out like a hammer on an anvil.
“The furnaces are burning clean, Brother Lin,” Meng Shan grunted, his dark eyes steady as bedrock. “Ward Seven holds the line.”
Shen Yue slipped forward, her slight hands pressing a small, stitched silk pouch into Lin Ke’s sash.
“Twelve phased signal magic charms,” she whispered, her fingers lingering on the silk for half a second. Her dark eyes were bright with tears, but her smile was fierce and proud.
“Dual-threaded chokes. If you trigger an emergency flare on the upper peaks, Meng Shan and I’ll see the hum from thirty miles away.”
