It was a sight that no human eye in the eight-hundred-year history of the Azure Cloud Sect had ever witnessed.
The entire floor of Valve Station Delta was fully bone-dry. Every single drop of sky dew, every puddle of rust water, every fragment of hardened stone scale had detached from the white jade tiles, suspended in mid-air in a vast, silent star-pattern of weightless spheres.
Some spheres were no larger than plums, orbiting one another in delicate, sharp-angled dance patterns. Others were huge globes of glowing sapphire liquid twenty feet in width, shimmering with internal currents of sky qi that refracted the amber emergency lights into dizzying kaleidoscopic halos.
In the center of this floating ocean, Elder Qian was screaming.
The sound of his voice was muffled, bizarrely distorted by the sound dead-zone created by the non-gravity pull. His feet had lifted three feet off the narrow high walkway, his scarlet robes billowing out around him like the fins of an angry, trapped carp.
“My magic charm!” Qian shrieked, clawing wildly at the empty air.
In his left hand, the three Earth-Flame Detonation Magic charms were still glowing. But their fire was dying.
To produce a violent pyro-moving explosion, a potion-made magic charm needs a stable gravity vector to focus its crushing blast wave along the path of least physical pushback. Here, in a nearby exact void where the gravity constant was dividing by zero, the fire runes could find no purchase.
