Elder Xuanji became a blood red sword pill and ripped the air apart as he slammed toward the pig pen The killing pressure shattered the wooden rails into splinters before he even arrived Mike did not retreat even a step He closed his eyes as if he were facing a runaway semi loaded to the limit with its brakes gone

  In his mind this was not a mystical killing move It was pure inertia rushing straight for a cliff edge The only way to live was to take control of that loss of control The blood light reached his face and he opened his eyes

  His feet spread and rooted into the mud like tree trunks His hands rose slowly and held an invisible circle in front of his chest In his grip that circle became the steering wheel that had carried him across hundreds of thousands of miles The instant the straight line force crashed into his arms he yielded and moved with it

  His waist and legs forced the power to travel as one piece through his frame He used a strange natural neutral shift catch and turn and release He did not block the force He guided it the way a driver corrects a skid on ice

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  His hands drew a smooth round arc The blood sword pill lost its straight path and began to spin along the circle he drew Mike borrowed the spin and felt the centrifugal pull build He roared like a truck climbing a steep grade and slamming into low gear

  His arms exploded with strength and he threw the force back the way it came Elder Xuanji tried to scream but his voice drowned inside his own collapsing qi The blood sword pill carved a twisted U turn through the air It detonated faster than it arrived

  Blinding white light swallowed everything The blast crushed sound and shattered his eardrums Mike heard his heart give one final long beep Everything fell into dead silence

  His body jerked hard Mike woke up gulping air and slammed his forehead into the steering wheel Diesel stink and cold air from the vents filled his nose Sword screams and thunder were gone

  Only the night wind slid past outside the window He lifted his head in a daze He was in the cab of his truck at a Route sixty six rest area The dashboard glowed a dim green

  The engine was still idling and vibrating with the familiar steady tremor Mike wiped sweat off his face and gave a tired half laugh He reached for the shifter beside him and his fingers shook with leftover weakness Then his eyes fell on his left wrist

  His whole body went rigid A faint red ring like a sword scar circled the rough skin It looked like an old contract stamped into flesh Under the cold Arizona moonlight it quietly burned warm

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