The arrival of Vanguard Commander Yue into the shale tiered arena below Boundary Pylon Three was with the terrifying, timed together hush of sixty seasoned killers.
The Flying Crane raiders fanned out across the scree in four disciplined echelons, their midnight-blue shadow-silk robes blending into the darkness, their serrated wind-daggers held low. Above them, hovering twenty feet over the frozen boulders, the four light assault skiffs angled their repeating giant crossbows downward. The heavy barbed bolts shone with the oily green sheen of viper poison.
Vanguard Commander Yue stepped onto a flat granite boulder sixty paces from the tower’s base, his white feathered mantle whipping in the gale.
He looked up at the darkened pinnacle of the ninety-foot obelisk, expecting to see an empty sky. Instead, his sharp hawk-eyes caught the dark shape of Lin Tao standing on the high upkeep balcony, lit up by the pale sapphire glow of the Precursor console.
Yue frowned, his high-born features hardening into contempt.
“A rat on the roof,” Yue scoffed, his voice amplified by Foundation Establishment spiritual energy, rolling across the rocks like distant thunder. “Captain Zhao was supposed to clear this post. No matter. Gunners, put three iron bolts through that boy’s throat and secure the foundation trench.”
