The crossbow bolts were barbed, three feet long, and tipped with dark green void-iron.
Eight hired blades held the heavy steel crossbows at waist height, the braided steel bowstrings wound so tight they hummed with a thin, murderous shaking. Behind them, Zhao Wuji tapped his folded hardwood fan against his palm, the cold smile on his lips never wavering.
“Ten breaths, Lin Ke,” Zhao Wuji said, his voice echoing smoothly across the humming machine room. “Lay your weapons upon the stone. Kneel with your hands bound behind your neck. I’ll even permit you to live as an indentured consultant on my tracking data team. Refuse, and my men will execute you for heavy-duty piracy under country martial law.”
Zhao Wuji reached into his sleeve and produced a scroll of heavy, gold-trimmed silk.
With a flick of his wrist, the scroll unrolled, hovering in the air between them, bathed in the silver light of the crystal-clear racks.
It bore the massive, circular seal of the Great Yan Ministry of Works. It was stamped in vermilion red stone:
“An Imperial Salvage Patent,” Zhao Wuji said softly. “Signed by the Provincial Governor, registered in the capital. Every stone, every rune, every drop of spiritual fluid within this cave is legally the property of the Grand Fortune Guild. Your presence here is secret trespass on a bonded royal dig.”
