The apex platform was as cold as a mountain tomb.
High Archon Tian Gang sat hunched inside the coarse sheep-fleece blanket, his back propped against the base of the ruined bronze switchboard. His breathing was a brittle, rattling whistle that echoed off the broken quartz indicators. Each breath in caused a sharp grimace to ripple across his gaunt face, the muscles of his jaw clenching as the fractured edges of his fourth and fifth ribs grated against each other.
Lin Tao approached with steady, unrushed steps. He set his glowing-bronze lantern upon an intact section of the dais floor.
Tie Shan stood three paces back, his boots shoulder-width apart, the fourteen-pound star-iron pry-bar resting upright in his calloused grip. The giant’s dark eyes remained fixed on the darkened outer edge. It maintained security against any desperate movement from the leftover Archons.
Lin Tao knelt beside the fallen elder, slipping his work gloves off to expose his freshly bandaged palms.
“Be still, Tian Gang,” Lin Tao said quietly, his voice neutral and skilled. “I’m going to examine your chest.”
The First Archon raised his cloudy eyes, his gaze unfocused and trembling.
“You... You come to finish the execution?” Tian Gang whispered, a bead of cold sweat running down his temple into his soot-caked beard. “Strike then, mortal. The mandate has shattered. I’ll not beg for breath.”
