Chapter 712: The Limit They Trusted

Chapter 712: The Limit They Trusted

The blue-coat swordsman reached the broken shelf just as the ground opened beneath his next step.

He checked his footing. Leon kept walking.

A small fold shortened the gap ahead of the Palace column, bringing two firm surfaces together long enough for the carriers to cross. Seraphine glanced down as she passed over it. Behind her, Vyra guided the last collector through before Leon let the distance settle back into place.

They reached the mineral belt first.

"Wen Shu. Mark from here to that outcrop." Leon pointed north. "Two hundred paces."

The scout drew pegs from her belt. Red and blue-white seams crowded the exposed stone beneath her boots, with gray-green growth filling the spaces between them. Beyond the outcrop, the same deposits continued farther than Leon could see.

He wanted considerably more than two hundred paces. He also wanted something his four collectors could actually work before they had to leave.

"Shallow cuts first," he told Lu Pei. "Find out what we can carry."

The collector knelt, then looked up again as the blue coats approached.

Their leading swordsman stopped outside Wen Shu’s unfinished line. A broad-shouldered woman in a long blue coat raised her hand behind him, and the others spread into positions facing the remaining approaches.

Leon watched her. She studied the ground he had claimed, then the unmarked beds to its north.

Before either spoke, a voice carried across the crust.

"Leave those stakes where they are. Saves us the trouble."

The loud group had caught up.

Fifteen people approached from the east, led by the scarred man with the long, flat blade. Most carried Golden Core cultivation openly. Several wore bronze plates at their waists, and matching plates had been fitted into their weapons.

Leon noticed those before he paid much attention to the leader’s grin.

Behind him, the carriers stopped beside their empty cases.

"Keep them together," he told Vyra.

"Yes, Young Master."

The scarred man planted his blade against his shoulder.

"Durrow. Ashvard Crew." He glanced at Leon’s pegs. "You’ve picked our ground."

"You can pick some farther north," Leon said.

"The thick seams are here."

"I noticed."

Durrow looked past him at the collectors, then at the four women. His gaze lingered on Seraphine’s sword before returning to Leon.

From the blue coats, the woman called, "There’s enough exposed ground for all three parties."

"Then take your share, Orrin," Durrow said. "This is ours."

He lowered his blade. Behind him, the people carrying bronze plates moved apart, settling into a broad crescent.

Their noise stopped. Boots scraped against stone as they adjusted their spacing, and energy passed between the plates in thin copper lines.

So they do know how to work together.

Leon moved clear of his collectors. Seraphine stayed near their front while Ira took the open flank, her lance held low.

Durrow smiled again when Leon stopped alone before the crescent.

"Nobody above Golden Core gets through those gates," he said. "You’re standing in front of nine."

He tapped his blade against the nearest copper line. The other eight cultivators answered, and their combined pressure gathered along its edge.

The formation drew on each of them in turn. Leon felt the pressure change as one man corrected his contribution, then another. They had practiced this. Whatever arguments filled their camp, none of them needed instructions now.

A young Palace carrier tightened both hands around his empty case. Loriel touched his shoulder and guided him behind a low shelf, where the other specialists had gathered.

Leon was briefly annoyed at the wasted time. Lu Pei should already have been taking samples. Instead, half the people he had brought were watching a stranger decide whether to kill them for rocks.

Then Durrow glanced at his companions, smiling with the ease of a man whose strongest move had always been enough.

Leon knew that look. He was looking forward to removing it.

To Leon’s right, the blue-coat swordsman took a step back. Orrin caught his sleeve and drew him nearer her people.

Durrow saw it too.

"Last chance," he told Leon.

Leon looked at the copper lines crossing the ground between his boots.

They were trying to bind him before the strike. He could feel the restraint tightening around his legs, confidently seeking purchase.

"Move your people back," Leon said to Orrin.

Durrow swung.

The formation flared, driving its gathered force through the long blade. The cut spread as it crossed the last few paces, wide enough to catch Leon even if he dodged toward either side.

He stepped into it.

Space bent around his raised hand. The blade’s path shortened abruptly, bringing Durrow within reach before the man had finished extending his arms. Leon caught his wrist and drove a pulse of his own power through the restraint closing around him.

The copper lines snapped.

Bronze plates burst from their fittings. Eight cultivators staggered as their shared circulation broke, and Leon pulled Durrow forward, taking the blade out of his failing grip.

He struck the man once in the chest.

Durrow hit the stone beyond the pegs and rolled, leaving his companions staring at the empty place where their formation had been.

A cultivator on the outer flank tried to cut toward the Palace collectors. Seraphine knocked his weapon aside and put him down with a blow beneath the ribs. Ira intercepted another with her lance shaft and sent him sprawling beside him.

The rest stopped moving.

Leon turned the captured blade in his hand. One bronze fitting still clung to its spine, smoking faintly.

He had expected the formation to hold together a little longer.

Across the boundary, Orrin was looking from the broken plates to him. Her swordsman had lowered his weapon without appearing to notice.

Durrow dragged himself onto one knee.

"What are you?" he demanded.

Leon walked toward him. "The person who told you to pick somewhere else."

Durrow’s left hand disappeared beneath his coat.

Leon saw the movement, the sudden tightening of the man’s shoulder, and the narrow black blade coming up toward his throat.

He drove the captured sword through Durrow’s chest.

The dagger fell short of his boot.

Leon waited until the body went slack, then withdrew the sword and looked at the others. One woman still held half a formation plate. She dropped it immediately.

"We yield," she said.

"Put down the weapons."

She obeyed. The remaining members of the crew followed, including the two still struggling to stand near Seraphine and Ira.

Leon had no interest in chasing fourteen people across a mineral field. Their packs, however, looked heavy.

"Your gathered treasure and valuable equipment stay," he said. "You can leave with food, water, bedding, and basic tools. Carry him with you."

Nobody argued.

Vyra brought a recorder forward. The surrendered packs contained four crates of mixed ore, a pouch of refined crystals, several good cutting implements, and route records that would need explaining later.

Lu Pei glanced at the tools. Leon caught the look and nodded toward them.

"Have those checked before you use them."

"Yes, Senior Brother."

Two Ashvard survivors wrapped Durrow’s body in his spare cloak. Leon watched them lift it, then returned his attention to the other expeditions.

The banner party had halted well short of the belt.

Orrin said something to her swordsman. He stepped back, and she approached alone, both hands empty.

This time, she stopped before the first peg.

"I think," she said, "we should discuss what you’re about to cut."