Envoy Yan didn’t bother reading the eighty-four wax seals.
A snap of his slender fingers produced a single spark of pale, royal sun-fire.
The flame touched Elder Wu’s parchment. The four-hundred-year-old office petition dissolved into drifting white flakes before it could fall an inch.
“Insolent dogs,” Envoy Yan whispered, his face twisted in cold disgust. “Executioners. Scour the platform. Leave not a drop of mortal grease on the dark rock.”
“Understood,” the lead headsman droned.
Three mirror-bronze figures surged forward in terrifying all at once.
Their heavy plate boots didn’t push off the light-ribbons. They bent the local spatial fabric like springboards, launching sixty jin of bronze and six feet of void-severing steel across thirty paces in less than a tenth of a second.
Three crescent-shaped blades howled through the thin air. Their edges glowed with cold, spatial-shearing runes aimed directly at Lin Ke’s neck, collar bone, and chest bone.
