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284 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 26, 2016
“In his experience, practically anything became an adventure if framed properly.”
“That’s the nature of any acquired skill. It will feel like breathing through a wet rag for a while, and your body will tell you to stop. But one day, you’ll look back and wonder how it was ever difficult.”
“These two weeks had been the worst in Lindon’s life, but half a month of agony was nothing compared to a lifetime of helplessness.”
“Sacred artists. Without risk, without battle, without a willingness to fight, you will stay weak. And weakness means death.”
“That’s the nature of any acquired skill. It will feel like breathing through a wet rag for a while, and your body will tell you to stop. But one day, you’ll look back and wonder how it was ever difficult.”
“I think you may have seen hard work sometime in the past,” Yerin called back, “but you never came close enough to shake its hand.”
"The sacred arts are a game, and your life is the only thing you've got to bet. You want to move up? This is what up looks like."
“Don’t know why you’re crowing about it. Any day where I haven’t beaten a Remnant to death with its own limb is a holiday.”
“Her master always talked about solitude as though it was some great treasure, some tool that aided in focus and training. That was a pile of rot. He was the strongest sacred artist she’d ever met, but some things he just didn’t understand. . .
Yerin wasn’t overly attached to Wei Shi Lindon; she’d only known him for a few days, and part of her still expected him to be playing some sort of twisty trick on her. She’d spent no small amount of time wondering if she should kill him and remove the danger.
But having Lindon around gave her someone to talk to, someone to help her with her bandages, someone to help keep the bloody memories and the acid-edged grief at bay.”