The ground was steadily buzzing now, a low-pitched thrum beneath Lindon’s feet that never went away. The veins of earth aura pulsed as though they ran with lightning.

The Iron looked up at the people spread out before him and set his jaw. He had no spiritual sense to speak of, but he had the confidence of a man with an entire clan at his back.

“You forget yourself, Unsouled.” The Foxfire at the tip of his weapon disappeared, but the guard reversed his spear. “Whoever your masters are now, you should speak to me with respect.”

He brandished the butt of his spear, cocking it back in a silent threat.

Lindon held up a hand before the Truegold to his left annihilated this Iron. “You see all these people behind me, don’t you?”

“Word has already been sent to the Jades. They will decide what to do with our guests.” The guard’s chin tilted up. “In the meantime, I was told to expect outsiders at our gates. And to show them the strength and dignity of the Wei clan.”

Lindon understood now. This guard thought they were inhabitants of Sacred Valley, but not one of the clans. He assumed they belonged to the collection of exiles and wild families that provided for themselves in the wilderness.

Even without his spiritual perception, he should have seen better than that. They were far too well-equipped, and the Golds all wore a uniform.

But the Iron had made up his mind, and he stood proudly.

“Hit me,” Lindon said.

The guard frowned. “What did you say?”

“You suggested you were going to hit me with your spear. Do it. I want to show you something.”

The Iron’s frown took on an edge of disgust, and he drew himself up straighter. “I’m not giving you the excuse.”

“Then I’m heading in.” Lindon started to walk for the gate, with Yerin at his side. He expected her to be laughing to herself.

She wasn’t. She scowled like she couldn’t wait to punch a hole in this man’s chest.

Sacred Valley really did not agree with her.

Finally, something in the Iron snapped. “Don’t blame me for this!” he shouted to the Akura Golds.

The Truegold at the front rolled his eyes.

The Iron guard hauled back his spear and smacked Lindon’s cheek with the butt end.

Wood cracked.

It wasn’t a full-force blow, but the Iron hadn’t exactly held back either. If Lindon really had been an Unsouled, he would have faced a broken jaw at least.

Old anger leaked out, but Lindon pushed it away. He couldn’t hurl an Iron into the sky for doing as he’d asked.

He did, however, seize the spear. When the guard tried to pull it back with all his strength, Lindon’s hand didn’t budge an inch.

With one thumb, Lindon snapped off one third of the spear’s shaft.

“Tell the First Elder that Wei Shi Lindon is here to see him.”

The guard abandoned his spear and ran through the half-open gates into the Wei clan, screaming for backup.

Yerin thumped Lindon’s chest with the back of her fist. “Not certain I can take this. I was about to split him in half the long way.”

“You were the one who told me to hold back.”

“Easier to say it than do it.”

Lindon stopped the Golds before they followed him through. “Stand by for now. We’ve made our show, so I want to meet with the elders first. I’ll call you when we need you.”

The Truegold looked displeased, but bowed in acceptance nonetheless.

When Lindon and Yerin walked through the gate, one of his suspicions was confirmed: the guard hadn’t sent word to the First Elder. He’d gathered the other guards, half a dozen Irons who surrounded them with weapons drawn. A security script in the street just inside the gate lit up, trapping Lindon and Yerin inside.

Lindon felt crystal flasks in the ground drained of madra to power the script. From a quick glance at the runes, he felt certain it would block them from throwing any techniques out of the circle.

At least, it was supposed to.

The guards were shouting demands, but Lindon spoke quietly to Yerin. “We’ll have to show off some more.”

He expected a rejoinder from her, but he heard only harsh breathing.

When he looked to her, she was half bent over, her metallic crimson Goldsigns extended and sagging. She gripped her stomach with one hand as though her core was paining her, breathing harshly. It seemed like she was barely on her feet.

He instantly abandoned his previous plan.

Lindon drove his foot down and through the stone of the street, breaking the runes and the circle. The glowing script fuzzed and died, sending essence flying into the air like sparks.

The Fox Dream Ruler technique settled onto the both of them, intending to disrupt the dream aura in their minds.

[Wrong!] Dross shouted.

The Irons all flinched back. One fell onto his backside.

[I don’t want to judge you based on your treatment of dream madra, I really don’t, but if I did, I’d say you’re like monkeys doing carpentry. That is to say, you’re clumsy and very stupid.]

The Wei clan Irons were familiar with spirits advanced enough to talk, but they had probably never seen one speak into their minds before. Lindon left Dross to it; he could subdue this entire crowd alone if they caused a problem.

He was focused entirely on Yerin.

Fortunately, the second the script broke, Yerin had taken a deep breath and straightened. “Whew. Wouldn’t try that again, if I get a wish.”

“You can go back and rest, if you need to,” Lindon said.

Yerin stretched her arms and Goldsigns. “Not sure I see what’s so shiny and bright about being a Herald. These days, it’s a bumpy path full of sharp rocks.”

“Your madra was having enough trouble supporting your body in Sacred Valley at all.”

Outside of Sacred Valley, she would have shrugged this off. It may have weakened her, if it had been powered by more than Iron-level madra, but it certainly wouldn’t have crippled her.

Still, this was far more severe than it should have been. Lindon couldn’t imagine Fury unable to breathe because of a simple script.

This was Lindon’s fault. He had been careless.

He dipped his head. “Apolo—”

“Nope,” she interrupted. “None of that. Time to get back to the job, true?”

The ground still vibrated beneath them while Dross kept the guards distracted with insults. One of the Irons, a blocky red-faced man with an Enforcer badge, looked at Lindon strangely.

“Shi Lindon?” he asked.

Lindon had given his name at the gate, but there was recognition in the man’s voice. He looked closer at the face.

He thought he saw traces of a boy from years ago. They came with several unpleasant memories.

“Mon Teris?”

As a boy, Lindon had found himself on the receiving end of Wei Mon Teris’ temper several times. Including the memorable occasion when Teris had abandoned him to fight the Remnant of an ancestral tree, which had ended with Lindon taking down Teris’ father with the Empty Palm.

Lindon hadn’t thought of the Mon family in years.

Teris’ expression was hard, but he looked from Lindon to the hole Lindon’s foot had made in the stone. “I’ll bring you to the First Elder. Come.”

Lindon hesitated. The Mon family had never had any goodwill toward him, and the situation wouldn’t be improved now that he had returned from the dead more than three years later.