“Fuck.”
“Exactly. If you want to stay alive, do as I say. Raise my sword.”
Yiran held her sword up, a skeptical look on his face.
“Now, go.”
“Go?”
Rui didn’t understand why he was so confused. “You’ve got a boost of my yangqi; use my sword. Channel your magic and kill the Revenant.”
“Buthow?”
When she stared back at him, just as flabbergasted as he seemed, Yiran swallowed. Even in the subdued light of the streetlamps, she could see a flush spreading across his cheeks.
“I was born with a normal spirit core,” he confessed, looking wretched.
“You’re a normie?” How did she miss that earlier? She focused on him, but it was too late. Whatever energy she sensed from him now might be a result of Zizi’s spell. “Isn’t every Song born with a powerful spirit core?” she said, desperate for it to be true.
Yiran hung his head. “Every Song but me. I don’t have magic.”
I don’t have magic.
His words were a death knell. They were going to perish after all. Word on the street was that Yiran hadn’t enrolled at Xingshan because Song Wei had lost his only son in the war against the Revenants, and he wanted at least one grandson to be out of harm’s way. She didn’t know it was because he was incapable of magic.
But something had happened between them because of the spell. Rui was sure of it. Shefeltdifferent. Hollow, like something was missing from her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, hoping she was right. “The spell might’ve still transferred some of my spiritual energy to you. But it won’t last long and it’s our only chance. We can do this—youcan do this. Breathe in slow, focus on how your breath moves in your stomach.”
“But—”
Rui gripped his hand, speaking as calmly as she could. “Trust me. Ground yourself and breathe. Feel your vital force, your qi, circulating through your body. Feel the energy. Let it flow over you like a wave.”
“Okay, breathe,” Yiran repeated. He inhaled and exhaled.
Soft crimson light shimmered from his hands. For some strange reason, the light looked like it was pouring out from the small white scars on each of his fingertips, as if he’d been cut dozens of times, the cuts healing and tearing and healing again. Rui had never seen anyone channel magic directly from their hands before, but relief rushed through her.
They had a chance.
“You’re doing good,” she said. “Run your hand over the blade, that’s right, like that.”
The entire sword in Yiran’s hand lit up with crimson light.
He fell back in surprise. Rui choked on a hysterical laugh. It felt like her chest was about to explode.
Zizi’s spell worked. Itworked.
Yiran gawked at the glowing sword in his hand. “What—how? This is impossible.”
“Focus,” she hissed. “Keep breathing.”
“Okay, okay.”
As Yiran kept the rhythm of his breathing, the blade transformed, its light brighter than before. The blade wasn’t shaped like a lightning bolt. It was bigger and thicker, curved like an outsized saber. A nagging voice in Rui’s head questioned its appearance, but there was no time to think about it.
“I can’t cast any protection spells for you. You only get one chance,” she told Yiran. “Use me as bait. Approach the Revenant from behind and cut off its tentacles.”
“Cut off?”
