The scuffling from the tunnel behind him became the thud of boots, the harsh pant of breath. Shadows resolved into figures, five, then ten, spilling into the cavern around the base of the chimney. They couldn't see Feng Jian in the dark, but they could feel the Frost Core in Lin Tian's pocket.
Feng Jian didn't turn toward the mob. His sword remained pointed at Lin Tian's chest. "Give me the core," he said, his voice flat and dead, "and your death will be quick."
Lin Tian's map was a chaos of overlapping green dots. He was the center. The mob hesitated, sensing the other powerful presence.
They're afraid of him. Good.
He didn't answer Feng Jian. Instead, he took a single step backward, toward the encroaching disciples. "He's got it!" Lin Tian shouted, his voice ringing off the stone. "The core! He's trying to block the exit!"
