Lin Feng's POV“Hahahahaha.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. The geyser of liquid mana was still raining down over the shattered gardens, turning into a fine, silver mist under the moonlight, but the world around me had gone completely cold. I stood in the wet crater of the destroyed fountain, my boots submerged in muddy, essence-soaked earth. In my right hand, the ten Golden Sovereigns felt impossibly heavy, their iridescent edges humming against my skin with a rhythm that felt like a dying pulse."Step away from the basin, scavenger!"The shout cut through the hiss of falling water. I didn't need my Eye of the Weak to know we were surrounded. The violent clash between Yue and Yun Qian had already drawn the gaze of the upper Spires, but the implosion of the Academy’s central fountain had brought the hornets out of the nest.A regiment of elite Imperial Paladins, at least fifty of them,had formed a perfect, suffocating ring around the garden perimeter. Their heavy, white-and-go

Young Master Shen's POV I stank of sweat. The ventilation shaft had been too tight, a claustrophobic throat of rusted iron that smelled of old grease, but the utility closet I had crawled into wasn’t much better. I sat squeezed between a rack of industrial chemical carboys and a stack of stiff, unwashed linen, my knees pressed hard against my chin.The six-hour countdown of Feng’s "Void-Shield" was still ticking in the back of my mind like a rhythmic drop of water, but I hadn't gone back to the Pits.I couldn't do that. Head back to the filth? Live like a rat in the soot after tasting the silk of the Fourth Spire? No. Feng was a madman, a dreg who had gotten lucky with a dark artifact. There was no way he could survive Malachi. Nobody survived the High Inquisitor. I just needed to wait here, let the Saint crack Feng’s skull, and then I’d crawl out, offer my services to the new regime, and reclaim my birthright.Then, the wooden door of the closet rattled and swung open.The light

Junjie's POVThe golden gates of the High-Spires Academy were supposed to be indestructible, forged from white iron and enchanted with five layers of defensive light-wards. But they didn't look so tough when twelve feet of rusted, clanking, hydraulic-hissing heritage came barreling through them at twenty miles an hour.CRASH.The massive white-iron gates tore right off their hinges, sending a shower of sparks and shattered masonry across the pristine gravel driveway."Whoa! Steady, big guy! Left foot, left foot, ah, too late!" I yelled, desperately clutching onto the copper exhaust pipe of the [Ancient Scavenger Golem] as we rocked violently from side to side. My foot caught in the hem of the Boss’s tattered black cloak, and I performed a chaotic, three-second balancing act on the machine’s iron shoulder before finally stabilizing myself."OBSTACLE REMOVED, MASTER OF JUNK," the Golem’s deep, grinding voice rumbled through its chest plates, its single red optic flaring to life in the

Lin Feng's POVThe battle was quite short-lived, I honestly thought he'd put up more of a fight. He was pathetic, I can't even begin to explain it. The high-Saint golden aura that Malachi had stolen from the blood of his own Paladins shattered like brittle glass.The High Inquisitor lay collapsed at the base of the empty throne, his skin rapidly wrinkling, his silver-white hair losing its artificial luster to reveal the dead, ash-grey strands of a man who had outlived his century. The halo of light-blades behind his back spun one last time, sputtered, and dissolved into the heavy, suffocating ink of [The Weeping Domain]. The ten assassins of the [Legion of the Damned] didn't even need to strike, they simply melted back into the shadows of the pillars, their porcelain masks disappearing into the dark like teeth withdrawing into a mouth.I stood over him, my breath coming in jagged, wheezing rattles, my fingers closing around the cold, leather-bound volume tucked into Malachi’s silk s

Yun Qian's POVThe iron links around my wrists were cold, heavy, and completely unrefined, exactly the kind of brutish work one would expect from the dregs of Section 9, disgusting stuff. They dragged against the ink-slick marble of the High-Spires’ throne room, leaving dark scratches that marred the gilded filigree beneath.Two heavy-set commoners, their hands smelling of cheap turnip grease and iron filings, shoved me forward. I didn't fall. A lady of the Yun clan does not stumble, even when her spiritual veins are locked and her silk gown is stained with the soot of a peasant’s rebellion.I looked up at the throne.Lin Feng sat there, though he didn't look like a king. He looked like an executioner waiting for his shift to start. The massive iron chains attached to his own wrists hung over the armrests, and his singular violet eye glowed with that disgusting, systematic static that had turned our perfect world upside down."Lin Feng," I purred, my voice tilting into its natural,