The surface of the Great Stele was colder than mountain ice.
Up close, the black jade was semi-clear. It showed a fine, detailed three-space-folding lattice of tiny silver wires suspended within the stone core. Millions of spiritual instructions pulsed along those pathways every second. That set off a low, ringing drone that made the fillings in Lin Ke’s teeth ache.
“Lin Ke, be careful,” Shen Yue whispered. She set up two decoupled silencing magic charms on the dark rock floor behind him. “The carving array is bound directly to the Heavenly Dao’s local registry. If an unapproved nascent soul queries its root steles, it doesn’t just reject the command—it rewrites the intruder’s mind.”
Lin Ke pulled the iron metal pen from his pocket.
The cold steel felt heavy in his trembling fingers. His ribs were on fire from the quicksilver burns. Every heartbeat sent throbbing waves of dull ache through his pinned collarbone.
“I’m not executing a write command,” Lin Ke murmured. “I’m running a read-only audit.”
He pressed the point of the iron metal pen against the jade face of the stele.
*
