The eight masked swordsmen hit the flooded white jade floor in four timed together pairs, their iron-shod boots sending sheets of sapphire water splashing ten feet into the air.
SPLASH. SPLASH. SPLASH. SPLASH.
They didn’t pause to regain their balance. The moment their feet touched the stone, their Foundation Establishment qi flared through their limbs, coating their black-steel scimitars in a shimmering, three-inch sheath of acid-burning green sword-qi. The poison gave off a sickening, sweet odor that made the eyes water and the throat burn.
They formed a tight, four-man wedge, advancing along the raised stone road that connected the entrance archway to the central pipe hub dais.
Elder Qian remained on the high narrow high walkway. He was surrounded by his four heavy steel crossbow snipers. His staff spun slowly above his head. He cast a blood-red barrier of protective spiritual energy around the archers.
“Wait!” Qian suddenly barked, holding up his left hand.
The eight swordsmen froze ten paces from Tie Shan. Their blades were held at low-guard. Their dark eyes shone through the slit viewports of their iron skull masks.
The eight swordsmen stood in ankle-deep water, the cold, sapphire current swirling around their shin guards. To their trained senses, the surrounding spiritual energy in this chamber was sky-high. A dense, liquid life-force that should have taken an entire sect three ages of quiet focus to gather. Yet it was pooling around the boots of an unranked mortal laborer and a teenage land-mapper in a coarse linen…
