Yán’lù seems to sense his opponent’s exhaustion. With another triumphant roar, he swipes his hands—which have shifted to claws with talons made to shred flesh—across Yù’chén’s chest. A long lash of his spiked tail catches Yù’chén square in the stomach.
Yù’chén slams into the nearest tree with a horrifyingcrack. Blood drips down his chin as he drops to his hands and knees. His fingernails have lengthened to claws; scales bloom up the back of his hands.
Yán’lù lifts his hands for the killing blow, and I leap out from behind, Fleet clenched between my teeth, Striker in my right hand. I focus all my spirit energy, all my strength, and all my fury over Fán’xuan into my blow.
But after all this, I am still mortal. And I come up short.
Yán’lù twists. I feel the slice of flesh and crunch of bone and sinew as I bury Striker’s blade in his chest—a hand’s breadth below his heart.
Pain erupts in my midriff. When I look down, one of Yán’lù’s bristles protrudes from it. Already, my chest is going numb with the prickling heat of his poison.
I look up through a blur of tears and twist Striker.
Blood spills from Yán’lù’s lips. He gives a snarl of fury and slams me into the sand. For a moment, a high-pitched ringing fills my ears and my vision pops with sparks of black. When I come to again, Yán’lù stands over me, his spiked tail raised.
That’s when my jade pendant heats against my skin. Its glow reflects in Yán’lù’s eyes as he looks down at it.
I am here,the golden words on its surface declare.
Yán’lù stares at it a moment longer. Slowly, understanding seeps into his features, followed by a vicious delight.
“I’ve found it,” he whispers, and lifts a claw.“I’ve found it!”
I press a hand over the pendant. But Yán’lù laughs even as blood seeps from the wound I’ve inflicted in his chest. Dark magic swirls on his palm, coalescing into a black bristle. It ripples in a sudden wind, then vanishes.
Something whistles through the trees behind Yán’lù. A golden arrow buries itself in his heart. The brute stops laughing. He looks down at his chest, at the protruding arrowhead,as though he can’t quite process what he’s seeing. A dark liquid drips from the gold: blood mixed with ichor that begins to drift up like smoke.
Yán’lù collapses to the ground. His chest stops moving and he falls still, his mouth still open, features frozen in the last of his laughter.
He doesn’t dissipate like the other full mó I’ve killed; rather, his mortal body seems to shrink slightly in size, his muscles deflating until he loses that unnatural bulk. I look away from his pointed teeth, still coated in shreds of flesh.
Five immortals step out from the trees, bowstrings taut, arrows aimed at Yán’lù’s motionless body.
“Dead, Captain,” one of them calls, while another exclaims, “Impossible—it’s amóhalfling!” And a third: “Mó can’t have halflings.”
Warm hands envelop my shoulders, turning me so that I’m looking into a familiar face. Brown eyes as steady as the earth, strong brows currently creased in worry.
“Hào’yáng,” I mumble.
“Àn’ying.” His grip tightens on me, and his eyes rake over my wounds. “What did he do to you?”
“Paralyzed,” I mumble. “His poison…”
Hào’yáng turns to the others. More guards are emerging from the trees or landing on the beach from their wisps of cloud, weapons drawn. Their attention immediately goes to him as he speaks. “I’ll take the candidate to the healing temple,” he begins, and then he catches sight of Yù’chén.
My heart staggers.
Yù’chén is crumpled on the ground beneath a tree. His chest is torn open in four long gashes, his shirt shredded,exposing the veined flesh beneath. Red-and-black scales are rapidly blossoming along his collarbone, shoulders, and arms. Veins spiderweb up his face, and his eyes…they have grown black, with glowing red pupils.
I must make a sound, for Yù’chén’s gaze snaps to me. Taking in how I lean against Hào’yáng’s shoulders and how his arms wrap around me.
Quickly, Yù’chén turns his face away, his hand flying to his neck and clamping down on the scales growing there. His body arcs in a gasp, I feel a dampening of his dark magic…and then the scales slow as they reach his chin.
“What—” One of the immortal guards nearby catches sight of Yù’chén. He takes a startled step back. “Another one here, Captain!”
With his free hand, Hào’yáng draws his weapon. Metal sings as he turns to face Yù’chén and raises his sword over his head—
“No!” The cry tears from me. With the last of my strength, I wrap my arm around Hào’yáng’s waist, holding him back.
