The water drops in the air was falling like iron buckshot.
At fifty times static gravity, sky moisture couldn’t remain a mist. It condensed into dense, leaden pellets that struck the black dark rock floor with a relentless, clattering roar—tat-tat.
When a stray droplet struck the back of Lin Ke’s hand, it broke the skin. That left a stinging red welt.
Lin Ke stood at the top of the spiraling stairwell on Floor Eight alone.
He had forced Meng Shan and Shen Yue to stay behind, locked inside a heavy granite stone support prop on Floor Seven.
Under fifty times normal weight, even Meng Shan’s stone-hard earth-stance would have buckled under the multiplied mass of his armor. Shen Yue’s delicate frame would have turned into strawberry jam before her second breath.
Only Lin Ke’s incompressible Ashen Iron Lattice—bolstered by his newly forged six-vortex core at Qi Gathering Six—could bear the load.
Even then, the crushing weight was terrifying.
