The northern highway climbed steeply out of the pine-covered foothills into the wind-scoured pass of the Iron Dragon Gap.
Behind Lin Tao and Tie Shan, fifty thousand liberated mortals marched in disciplined columns that stretched three leagues across the valley floor. Stonemasons from the Taiyi quarries pushed heavy wooden barrows laden with star-iron tools. Smiths from the Azure Basin hauled wagons piled high with cold-hammered copper mirror plates. And gray-bearded elders marched beside young pikemen whose hands were hard with the calluses of honest labor. The air was crisp, scented with pine resin and ozone. But they crested the final granite ridge. Then, the natural world came to an abrupt, violent halt.
Five hundred li across the northern horizon, the sky was ablaze with an unnatural, blinding golden radiance.
Nine huge snake-like phantoms, each stretching forty leagues from horn to tail, coiled through the upper cloud deck. Their scales didn’t flicker like living reptiles. They pulsed with rigid, clockwork rhythm. They cast linked lattices of amber light straight down into the bedrock. Where the light met the earth, a shimmering curtain of solidified golden flame erupted from the soil, rising five leagues into the heavens like a wall of molten glass.
