Sixty seconds into the nonstop sight bombardment, the air above the Desolation of the Nine Pillars began to warp.
The air was no longer cold. The sheer volume of packed light crossing the plain had white-hot the surrounding dust. It filled the valley with the pungent smell of baked clay and spark-charged copper. Along three miles of stone retaining walls, ten thousand mortal craftsmen continued to pump their star-iron levers with clockwork rhythm, their faces bathed in sweat, their eyes shielded by darkened horn goggles.
Tock-tock. The water-clocks held the beat without flinching.
At the base of the nine giant stone jade pylons, the sight ingress sensors were screaming.
The ancient Precursor firmware governing the Nine-Dragon Barrier was executing its standard stateful handshake protocol. For every sight beam that struck its quartz lenses, the system generated an outbound acknowledgment ping. A nearby ripple of amber energy sent back across the plain toward the source, seeking to verify the sender’s spiritual credentials and conclude the three-step connection set.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
Hundreds of thousands of faint golden rings rippled out from the barrier every second, washing harmlessly over the mortal trenches.
Tie Shan stood on the firing step, watching the golden ripples wash over his chest. The energy felt like a warm, static breeze, tugging faintly at the coarse wool of his tunic. But it had no physical mass and carried no moving threat. It was merely a hearing—an unanswered demand for a royal seal.
