Wuhen froze, his hand hanging uselessly in the air as he stared at Ningyan.
The expression in his red gold eyes was impossible to read, but the slow, miserable droop of his fox ears and the sudden, unnatural stillness of his nine tails betrayed him.
It hurt. Even fully understanding that the corruption was driving the outburst didn't make the sting any less painful.
Rong Yue's expression tightened. "Ningyan."
A small, silver dagger materialized in the tiger beast's palm. Without a moment's hesitation, he dragged the blade across his own hand.
Blood welled instantly, its rich scent filling the confined space of the carriage.
Ningyan's pupils contracted. He moved before conscious thought could catch up.
Ningyan seized Rong Yue's wrist, and the instant his fingers brushed the crimson liquid, the blood vanished directly into his palm.
