The Snow Demon elder's voice echoed through the wind and snow, like a block of ice crashing into dead water.
Chen Wuya leaned against the wall, his right hand still gripping half of the Karmafire Pearl. His fingers had gone stiff, and his palm was slick with cold sweat. The battle just now had drained him dry; even lifting a hand felt like dragging iron chains. Yet he did not let go.
The old man stood at the front of the group, his white beard blown flat against his chest by the wind. The spear tip was only three inches from Chen Wuya's throat. Behind him, more than a dozen Snow Demon warriors formed a semicircle, every spearhead aimed at him.
"You killed the Queen," the old man said again.
Chen Wuya's throat was parched, his voice rasping like sandpaper against stone. "She made the first move."
The old man's gaze did not change, nor did his hand tremble. He raised his left hand and made a chopping gesture.
Everyone took a step forward at once.
Chen Wuya drew a deep breath and forced his last shred of Misaligned Force into his meridians. He knew he could not win this clash. Only a tenth of his blood and vitality remained, his true qi came in fits and starts, and he needed the wall just to stay upright. But he could not retreat.
Just as the Snow Demon warriors raised their spears, someone in the group suddenly moved.
An elder on the left whirled around and drove the ice blade in his hand straight into the shoulder of the companion beside him. The man grunted, his spear slipping from his hand as blood streamed down his ice armor. Before the others could react, two more people began grappling with each other,