The iron caltrops along the northern approach rattled under the heavy iron hooves of thirty armored war-beasts.
Lin Ke dropped down from the corrugated roof to the gatehouse low roof wall, racking an iron bolt into a heavy air-powered giant crossbow with a sharp metal clack. Around him, the stone low roof wall smelled of wet lime mortar, sulfur soot drifting from the crucible chimneys, and cold machine grease coating the winch gears.
Through the yellow sulfuric fog rolling up the gorge, the mercenary vanguard advanced in tight diamond formation. Their lacquered banners bore the linked gold coin insignias of the Grand Fortune Merchant Clan.
At their head rode Zhao Wuji.
The merchant heir wore lacquered layered-scale armor of dark silver. His handsome face unusually was pale and tight, his knuckles white around the wire-wrapped grip of an ornate, four-foot flying sword.
Lin Ke squinted through the iron crosshairs, bringing up his internal tracking optics.
He isn’t attacking to kill, Lin Ke observed instantly.
A standard mercenary cavalry charge struck at twelve meters per second with overlapping moving shield magic charms. Zhao’s riders were dragging their boots in the mud, advancing at a tenth of combat speed, leaving their left flank fully open to crossfire from the giant crossbow towers.
