The Chime Bells shattered.
They had not been split or smashed from the outside in, but blown apart from within by some inexplicable force—
From bottom to top, a straight crack ran through them. Then the fractures spread outward like lightning.
Across the bronze surface, the dragon and phoenix motifs, the taotie patterns, the cloud-and-thunder designs, and every inscription engraved upon it suddenly lit up as the cracks passed through them, as if struggling desperately to resist. But the light only flickered once before instantly dimming beneath overwhelming divine power.
The fragments of the Chime Bells curled outward and burst apart, finally separating from the main body and crashing onto the bluestone floor with a heavy, hollow echo.
Shen Le froze with the mallets raised in midair. He watched the bronze instrument that had once played sounds capable of reaching the gods turn into a heap of shattered wreckage before him.
Even among the fragments, he could vaguely identify them. This crack was one he had once fitted into an orthopedic brace; that crack was one whose curled shape he had once wondered about—
Thinking about it now, it was fortunate they had been buried underground for thousands of years, allowing all the stress within the fragments to dissipate. Otherwise, even if he could restore them, these broken bells would never produce solemn music.
But the thought flashed through his mind and immediately vanished. The mallets fell to the ground. Shen Le turned and lunged toward the High Shaman.
The High Shaman's withered body began to tremble violently. He opened and closed his mouth, making hoarse rasping sounds, yet he could no longer utter a single word.
The old man instinctively stretched out his hands, seemingly trying to catch the falling fragments. But his arms rose only halfway before drooping