Not jumping. Not dodging. Not reading the emitter sequences. The bolts struck him at hip level, shoulder level, diagonal across the chest—and the formation energy shattered against something, and that something was the faint bronze-gold overlay of scale patterns that had begun manifesting at his skin the moment the first bolt connected.
Not full dragon scale. Not yet. But Tian Long's absorbed essence had been doing things to his body's structural integrity since the cave, and the accumulated result of that was that formation-grade qi projectiles were currently discovering that his skin had developed an opinion about being penetrated.
The bolts dissipated.
He walked.
Chen Yun stood at the corridor's far end where she had landed, watching him complete the passage with the expression of a physician's patient who has been told they have a rare condition and has just received the first visible symptom.
