The clockwork hawk didn’t leave room for compromise.
Its brass beak snapped shut with a harsh metal click. A golden royal edict dropped onto the white jade floor between Lin Ke and Yan Tiexin.
“The siege engines are hereby recalled to the country guard post,” the recorded royal decree boomed from the brass iron-puppet. “However, Under Imperial Orthodoxy Code Section Seven, Disciple Lin Ke is summoned to undergo the Trial of Pure Dao Scrutiny within seven days. If his internal foundation reveals any demonic divergence or secret manual modifications, he shall be carried out and his sect dissolved.”
Yan Tiexin scooped up the edict, spun on his heel. Then he strode out of the hall without looking back. His twenty court guards fell in behind him like dark shadows.
The Grand Hall cleared in minutes, the elders fleeing the scent of impending country war as if the rafters were ablaze.
Lin Ke walked back to the Seventh Ward. His heavy leather boots dragged in the melted rock waste gravel of the road.
The thick oak door of the sick room slammed shut behind him. Then, his knees folded beneath him. He caught the rolled lip of a heavy zinc washbasin, collapsing to the stone floor as a mouthful of dark, clotted bright red blood erupted from his lungs, splashing red against the dull grey metal.
