Thank heavens, the missile never came down. Not only did the missile not come down, but no death-urgent call from the Special Affairs Bureau followed either:
The hot current in Shen Le's palm made its first circuit through the Porcelain Tower's body, and the porcelain flying swords began to lower their altitude and slow down;
By the second circuit, the porcelain swords had linked head to tail, forming a ring around Shen Le and the Porcelain Tower:
When the third circuit was complete, all but one porcelain sword—which trembled slightly as it hovered stubbornly in place—had turned into fish-like streaks of light and plunged into the Porcelain Tower, hanging securely inside. "Fine. At least you're still willing to listen." Shen Le sighed, pressing his left hand against the tower's rim while reaching forward with his right to grab the unmoving porcelain sword.
But whenever his hand reached out a foot, the porcelain sword retreated a foot:
If his fingertips rose an inch, the porcelain sword floated an inch higher:
Shen Le lifted his hand slightly and whipped up a vortex of wind, trying to drag the porcelain sword back. With a whoosh, the sword shot through the air and fled...
It did not go far, instead hovering above the nearest mountaintop within sight. Its blade was slightly tilted, leaning against a clump of shrubs, while its tip hung in the air and trembled faintly without pause.
After waiting a while and seeing the wind vortex dissipate, it cautiously flew a little closer, then a little closer again, stopping just beyond Shen Le's reach. Its tip drooped, beckoning once, then again.
Its whole bearing screamed, "You can't catch me. You'll never catch me," and yet it kept trying to tempt Shen Le into reaching for it!
"What exactly do you want?"