The air in the Viper's hall hung heavy with the sickly-sweet stench of opium and something darker—something rotting. Torchlight flickered against the stained paper walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to twitch with a life of their own. The disciples slumped at their low tables barely resembled warriors now—their eyes glassy, mouths slack, fingers twitching near their swords but lacking the will to draw them.
At the far end of the hall, the iron cage swung gently on its chains, its bars streaked with something dark and viscous. The figure inside unfolded itself slowly, bone-thin fingers curling around the rusted metal. Yan Luo's sunken face pressed against the bars, his lips—stitched shut with tarnished wire—stretching in what might have been a smile. The wires creaked as they strained against his flesh.
Li Shen felt the jade shard in his chest pulse in response, its emerald veins throbbing beneath his skin. It recognized something in that cage. Something familiar.
"Little Kai," Yan Luo's voice slithered directly into Li Shen's mind, bypassing his ruined mouth entirely. "You've brought my property back to me."
The disciples stirred at their tables, hands finally closing around sword hilts. Their movements were sluggish, but their eyes had cleared—fixed now on Li Shen with something like hunger.
The jade hissed in warning, its voice dripping with contempt. "They think they can take me from you."
Li Shen flexed his fingers, still sticky with the old man's blood. He could feel the jade's power coiling in his muscles, waiting to be unleashed.
The first disciple came at him in a clumsy lunge. Li Shen sidestepped, his body moving with unnatural grace. His hand shot out, fingers twisting as bones cracked and reshaped—black claws erupting from his fingertips. They tore through the man's throat in a spray of crimson.
Two more attacked in unison, their blades flashing. The jade snarled in Li Shen's mind, and suddenly the world slowed. He saw every twitch of their muscles, every shift in their weight. His claws found one's heart before the man could complete his strike. The other's sword grazed Li Shen's arm—a wound that sealed itself before the blood could well up.
The remaining disciples froze.
Yan Luo's cage door swung open with a groan.
"The jade remembers its true master," his voice whispered through the hall. "Kill the thief. Bring it home."
Li Shen felt the jade's rage burn through him like wildfire. It wasn't just power now—it was fury, betrayal, centuries of hunger. His body moved without thought, becoming a whirlwind of tearing claws and snapping bone.
When the last disciple fell, the hall was silent save for the drip of blood on stone.
Yan Luo stepped from his cage, the wires through his lips pulling taut as he smiled.
"Now," he crooned, "shall we discuss terms?"