To reprogram an unmaintained Precursor lightning spreading matrix in the middle of an enemy assault is a task that allows for zero margin of human error.
High above the battlefield, the mountain gale whipped Lin Tao’s linen tunic against his ribs like a wet sail. Below him, the repeating giant crossbows mounted to the four Flying Crane assault skiffs discharged with an ear-splitting, rhythmic clatter:
THWIP-THWIP!
Twelve heavy iron bolts, each three feet long and tipped with soul-freezing viper poison, streaked through the freezing air toward the base of Boundary Pylon Three.
Tie Shan stood before the foundation stone base, his twelve-pound iron pry-bar spinning in his hands like a dark propeller of whistling steel.
CLANG! CLANG! CRUNCH!
The giant deflected six bolts in mid-air, the iron tips sparking against his bar before shattering on the scree. Two bolts struck the heavy star-iron plating of the obelisk, shearing in half with sharp metal pings. One bolt grazed Tie Shan’s left shoulder, slicing through the tough bronze deep skin and leaving a shallow furrow that welled with thick crimson blood.
Tie Shan didn’t grunt. He didn’t look at the wound. The venom in the bolt hissed as it met his dense, body-hardened blood, stopped in seconds by the tough body thickness of his Peak Iron-Bone training.
