The sun dipped toward the jagged granite teeth of the western mountains. It cast long, crimson shadows across the Desolation of the Nine Pillars.
In Trench Sector 01, one thousand two hundred and forty-eight mortal smiths stood at attention behind their polished copper mirrors. Each man held his breath, his eyes fixed on the signaling pennant raised above Trench Node 04. Beside them, the water-clocks clicked with wild, clockwork care: ding-ding, twenty-four beats every second. The sound had become an extension of their heartbeats, steady and relentless.
Lin Tao stood beside Tie Shan on the command knoll. He held his brass sighting tube in his right hand.
High above the plain, the spectral form of Dragon Engine 01 hovered over its jade pylon. Its golden scales shone with calm, undisturbed radiance. He projected an unbroken curtain of golden fire across the eastern flank. On the distant castle walls, sky guards in gold-trimmed armor leaned lazily against their axe-spears, bored by the silent standoff. They had watched mortal rebellions rise and fall for hundreds of years. To them, this was merely another rabble waiting to starve in the cold.
“Prepare for fine-tuning pulse,” Lin Tao said, raising his left hand. “Squads One through Sixteen. Three-second burst only. Fire on my mark.”
