The four thousand three hundred cultivators split into three groups with startling speed.
The first group gathered beneath Oswin's command, the tower raiding force.
This time, he would not be the one stepping inside.
He sat atop a mobile qi array, the kind small sects used to feed power into their protective barriers. Now every thread of qi it drew was funneled into him.
Life Bane contract rustled in one hand. The other moved with cold, tireless precision, sorting men the way a counting machine sorted coin.
"Jalam. Marlou. Zuma. Gin."
He spoke the names one after another, never raising his voice, yet each call landed exactly where it needed to.
Lines shifted. Cultivators peeled away. Small clusters formed, then settled into teams with the ease of pieces falling into their rightful squares.
Once a group was set, Oswin flicked out a paper marker talisman with all their names written across it, and the strip slapped itself against the tower they were assigned to.
