Han Shān had known pain before. The cold bite of winter storms. The pain of claws across his chest in battles long past. The ache of loneliness in the years before Bai Yue.
But this was different.
This was a fire in his veins, burning through him from the inside out. The dagger had been coated in something dark, something that spread through his blood like poison ivy through dry wood.
Jaguar venom, he thought distantly. They use it to paralyze their prey.
He was the prey now.
"Han Shān. Han Shān, can you hear me?"
Yàn Shū's voice. Strained. Desperate. His hands were pressed against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding, but the blood kept coming.
"Scholar." Han Shān's voice came out as a croak. "Where are the others?"
