The golden tether connecting Sovereign Yuan Ming to the Black Sun turned from a thread of divine intent into a burning channel of liquid black glass.
Three miles across the valley, standing upon the command dais of his forward command pavilion, the Patriarch felt the back-surge hit his sea of mind like an anvil falling down an open well.
His pupils dilated until they swallowed his irises.
“Sever!” Yuan Ming shrieked, his hands clawing wildly at empty air as though trying to cut an invisible thick ship rope with his bare fingernails. “Sever the link! Cut the old family seal!”
*
He couldn’t cut it.
In his sea of mind, Lin Ke’s four worker threads were executing a persistent connection lock.
The royal array master builders had never designed an exception handler for connection rejection.
