The grand double doors of embossed star-bronze shuddered under the bone-shaking impact of a hundred hardwood clubs and heavy steel picks.
BOOM... BOOM... BOOM.
Outside the Thousand Treasures Pavilion, five hundred desperate river hired blades—hired by Guild Master Jin’s loyal captains with promises of looted silver—were howling like wild wolves. Through the narrow bronze watching slits set high in the lintels, torches flickered in the smoky night air, lighting up the frenzied faces of armed killers brandishing heavy cleavers, grappling hooks, and jars of acid-burning potion-made acid.
The pavilion itself was a monument of ancient commerce. Built three hundred years ago atop the underground arches of a Precursor drainage channel, its nine tiers of seasoned hardwood and star-granite rose ninety paces into the misty night sky. Within its vast halls, ages of trade ring masters had weighed sky pearls and hoarded mountains of silver bullion. Now, the scent of aged sandalwood incense was swallowed by the bitter stench of burning whale oil, damp canal mud. The sharp, vinegar tang of acid pots being prepared in the street.
Inside the grand foyer, the air was cold, still, and fragrant with old sandalwood incense and damp river stones.
Tie Shan stood with his boots planted four inches apart on the black green jade floor. His massive bronze frame was locked into an unmoving moving anchor.
