The guide hadn't finished speaking.
Yaha picked at his left ear.
The gesture was casual, as though he were shooing away a fly that wouldn't quit buzzing.
He pulled the black-and-gold Command Token from his pocket and tossed it forward.
The solid gold token struck the guide's chest with a dull thud.
The guide fumbled to catch it, the rest of his words lodging in his throat.
"Too slow."
Yaha pulled his right hand from his pocket.
He faced his palm forward, loosely bringing his fingers together.
Then he pushed.
There was no buildup, no whistle of wind.
Cursed energy poured from the heel of his palm.
The dense fog that had accumulated ahead for a century was instantly torn down the middle by brute force.
A muffled tearing sound ripped through the mountainside.
The fog rolled to either side, forcibly compressed into walls more than ten meters high.
The view between them was completely clear.
Then came the sound of breaking trees.
The century-old trees along the way were severed halfway up their trunks.
Their cut surfaces were smooth as mirrors.
The upper halves crashed into the mud, a succession of dull booms making the ground tremble.
A flat passage eight meters wide ran straight through the mountainside, all the way to the entrance of the Swordsmith Village.
Just like that, it lay exposed beneath the midday sun.
Cuts half a foot deep marked the ground on either side of the passage.
They were smooth enough to reflect the clouds overhead.
The bamboo pole fell from the guide's hand.
Clutching the black-and-gold Command Token, he stood rooted to the spot, forgetting even to breathe.
Shinobu Kocho stood just behind Yaha, off to one side.
Her gaze swept over the outrageous cut surfaces lining the passage, then flicked toward the