The White Jade Plaza was a sea of five miles of polished stone, suspended like a vast frozen lake between the nine peaks of Azure Cloud.
Fifteen thousand fighters stood in precise, rigid formation.
Outer students in faded gray linen formed the vast outer edge. Inner sect elites in stitched azure silk occupied the middle tiers. And ninety core elders in flowing scarlet robes stood at the foot of the nine hundred marble stairs that led to the Heaven-Ascending Pagoda.
At the summit of the stairs, floating twenty feet above the highest marble landing, rested the Golden Lotus Throne.
Grand Elder Feng Xuan sat upon it.
He wore robes woven from sky star-silk that drifted around him like living smoke, his face calm, timeless, and fully empty of human expression. To his left hovered the Great Stele of Canonical Truth, shrunk down to the size of a doorframe, pulsing with dark, vein-like golden light.
Beside the throne stood Zhao Wuji, his shredded robes replaced with stiff, ritual gold brocade. Even so, his bruised face and bandaged hands betrayed the last night’s disaster.
Lin Ke stood at the outer edge of the Seventh Ward’s contingent, his right arm resting against his chest, his pinned collarbone wrapped tightly beneath coarse linen.
