The projection didn’t cast shadows. It cast map points.
From the three-sided face of the Seventh-Rank Root Access Token, a pillar of pure, clear sapphire light shot toward the central fissure of Mount Taiyi. As the light touched the scarred dark rock bedrock, the stone didn’t dissolve or explode. Instead, the jagged fissure—where Tie Shan had driven the five-foot master star-copper shunt—began to realign with clean, steady care.
The rough, natural fractures of the rock smoothed out into mirror-polished guide rails of dark Precursor star-iron.
With a sound like the grinding of massive millstones deep within the earth, the central anvil of Mount Taiyi parted.
A circular opening, twenty paces across, divided along four linked curved segments. It slid smoothly into underground recesses beneath the mountain floor. A wave of ancient, high-pressure air rushed upward from the depths, carrying neither sulfur nor fiery smoke. But the cool, sterile scent of ozone, polished quartz, and sealed machinery.
Lin Tao and Tie Shan walked to the edge of the opening.
Lin Tao paused at the rim. His left thumb dug firmly into the scarred callus of his right palm, applying steady pressure until the sharp throb of physical sensation anchored his awareness. He felt the cold mountain wind, the gritty dust of crushed dark rock beneath his boots. The persistent ache of his healed collarbone.
