The ghostly light went out the instant the stone fissure sealed shut, and the secret chamber fell into a brief dead silence. A faint tremor traveled up through Chen Wuya's feet, as though some mechanism had been stepped on at its starting point. Before he could speak, seven depressions in the floor abruptly lit up with a dim blue glow, like sleeping eyes opening one by one.
"Back!" he barked, retreating half a step.
Before his words had even faded, the stone walls on either side split open with a thunderous crash, dust sifting down in streams. Two bronze puppets, each three zhang tall, strode out. Their joints screeched with piercing metallic friction, and every step made the ground quiver. Ancient runes covered their bodies, their eyes glowed blood-red, and though they carried no weapons, their knuckles were as thick as iron hammers. Faint whirlwinds of air swirled in their palms.
Bai Zhi had already drawn her sword. Her flexible blade trembled lightly, the sapphire tassel flashing in the ghostly light. She turned sideways to shield Chen Wuya's left flank, her gaze fixed on the left puppet's shoulder joint. "They don't move like dead things."
Mo Feng folded his fan and pressed it against his waist, raising his right arm slightly as threads of water gathered at his fingertips. Gritting his teeth, he said, "They aren't dead things—they're living formations."
The instant he spoke, the left puppet stomped down and drove a fist into the floor. Amid a deafening boom, a shockwave spread outward in a ring. The stone slabs beneath the three of them cracked, and the blast of air made it hard to keep their footing. Chen Wuya rolled away with the force, only to see the right puppet spread its arms. Silver chain blades shot from its