The cold mountain wind howled across the Precursor terrace. It carried the sharp scent of crushed iron and scorched stone. Beneath the Sixth Peak’s dark rock overhang, Lin Tao pulled his four-inch land-mapper metal pen from his inner sleeve. Then he held it up before his face.
His left eye was running at maximum analytical resolution. Across the surface of the pure-crystal star-white-gold needle, minute sight reflections danced in rhythm with the pulsing silver dome above. Every glow corresponded to an active node in Du Cang’s formation, shimmering like distant stars trapped inside a crystal-clear lattice.
“It’s worse than a simple bucket brigade,” Lin Tao whispered to Tie Shan. His voice dropped into the steady, test rhythm he had used for years in the server vaults of his past life. “In a bucket brigade, if a man drops his pail, he can pick it up. But Du Cang’s sword intent is organized as a nested intent stack.”
Tie Shan frowned slightly. His thick eyebrows drew together as he leaned his weight against his star-iron pry-bar. “Nested stack?” the giant repeated, unfamiliar with the concept.
“A tower of wooden plates,” Lin Tao explained in physical terms. He gestured with his hands to create a clear image. “Imagine you’re building a tower of ninety wooden plates in a high wind. To place the ninetieth plate on top, you must keep all eighty-nine plates beneath it perfectly balanced. You can’t remove the tenth plate without taking down all eighty plates resting above it.”
