Iron Rails Roar, Shaking the Barren Wilds; Steel Dragon Breaks the Fog, Its Momentum Unstoppable

All around them, silence.

Jing Huan shot to his feet.

"I'll go take a look farther out."

His voice was deeper than before, though still steady. "Maybe only this stretch was made with good materials.

"At an important junction like this, the road builders may have deliberately used better iron here. The rest might not be of the same quality."

Without waiting for anyone to respond, he strode east.

His boots creaked over gravel and sleepers as he went farther and farther away, his figure shrinking across the wilderness.

Those remaining squatted where they were, their eyes following his back. No one spoke.

Han Hu rested his bronze mace across his knees, both hands braced on its handle, his chin on his fists as he stared at the rails beneath his feet as though facing an enemy he could not see through.

Ji Jian leaned against a locust tree, his eyes half-closed.

Whenever the wind swept over the rails, they gave off an extremely low hum, like a giant string plucked by the wind.

In his mind, he compared that sound with every noise made by ironware he had ever encountered, only to find that no other iron could produce such a sound.

Too pure. Too clean.

It was even cleaner than the sound of the finest weapons he had heard slicing through the air. Their very substance was different.

A long time passed.

About the time it took to drink a cup of tea—perhaps longer.

Jing Huan's figure reappeared over the eastern horizon and walked back, step by step.

His pace was far slower than when he had left. Every step seemed like one dragged from a swamp, only to sink back in again.

He said nothing.

But his expression had already spoken for him.

Han Hu was the