Thousands of Imperial Guards raised their bows at once. Gleaming arrowheads glinted coldly in the dusk, and the creak of tightening bowstrings rose in a chorus, especially piercing across the open, snow-covered square.
The fierce wind sent Faxian's white beard flying, but his steps never faltered.
Zhantai Ming's arm dropped heavily. Anyone who trespassed into the Imperial City was to be killed without mercy.
A deep thrum of bowstrings tore through the wind and snow. A skyful of arrows rose into the air, a black mass blotting out the lead-gray heavens. Like venomous bees pouring from their nest, they shredded the falling snowflakes into a blizzard of white froth.
Every arrow carried enough force to pierce iron armor as it screamed toward the frail figure in the center of the square.
Faxian paused.
His bamboo staff lightly tapped the Han White Jade imperial walkway with a clear click.
"Amitabha."
Faxian bowed his head and raised one palm, softly intoning the Buddha's name. His voice was not loud; it even carried the weak rasp of a candle guttering in its final years. Yet the instant those words left his lips, an immense, invisible bell seemed to toll between heaven and earth.
Deep, solemn vibrations rippled outward from the center of the square, rose along the palace walls, and resonated among tier upon tier of flying eaves and interlocking brackets, until their unbroken echoes rolled over the entire Imperial City.
The snow piled along the roof ridge of Taihe Palace shook loose and pattered down.
The rain of arrows pouring across the sky abruptly stopped.
Thousands of arrowheads hung suspended in midair, densely covering half the heavens, as though an invisible hand had frozen them in place.
The wind still blew, and the snow still fell, but the arrows remained motionless. Silence