Before the Jackal could complete the move, Longzi arrived in the same space, his boot pinning the wrist that hunted fresh steel. "Stay," Longzi murmured. "We have some questions for you."
The Jackal spat the pellet.
It bounced, rolled, cracked under Yizhen's casually dropped lid. Smoke coughed and died. Yizhen yawned.
"Your toys underperform," Yizhen noted.
"Your guards overperform," the Jackal countered, eyes bright.
Mingyu's hand tightened just enough to speak in the language joints respected.
The Jackal leaned his head back against that slow force and grinned without any good reason.
"I only needed one clean cut," he went on, tone mild. "A neat absence. A palace waking to consequences. A country remembering emperors' bleed."
"You brought ink for a knife and learned nothing about paper," Yaozu returned, voice near his ear, untroubled.
