The leather straps bit hard into Lin Ke’s thighs.
Through the underground floor, the shakes were no longer dull rumbles. They were sharp, rhythmic shocks that rattled his teeth in their sockets. The Blood Lotus vanguard was using iron rams against the Second Terrace iron gate.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Every impact was a reminder of the permanent timeline.
Lin Ke placed the cold tip of the iron metal pen against his left thumb, pressed down until the skin burst. Then he drew a slow breath.
Execute merge.
The mental command was not an abstraction. It was a physical directive to his Mid-Foundation training core.
Inside his lower belly, the quiet pool of liquid spiritual Qi began to churn. Lin Ke didn’t start with the crash. You never ignite the engine before building the chassis.
