Night fell hard over the valley, stars punching through thin cloud like sparks off a whetstone. We'd found a hollow under an overhanging rock—enough shelter to keep dew off, not enough to feel safe. Xiao Lan was already asleep, curled on her side, knife under her cheek. I envied her that. My mind kept turning over the day's qi like a hot coal I couldn't spit out.
The jade rested against my skin, warmer than the fire we'd let die. Every so often it tugged, a gentle pull toward the south-east. Mount Hua, maybe. Or just another lie the thing was feeding me.
My stomach cramped again, lower this time. Not pain exactly—more like something uncoiling. I pressed my palm to it, felt the heat radiate outward. The vein on my arm had reached my elbow now, faint but steady, like a map being drawn in ink.
I must have dozed because the next thing I knew Xiao Lan was shaking my shoulder. "Lin. Wake up."
Her face was close, eyes wide in the moonlight. "There's a fire. Not ours."
I sat up fast. Across the valley, maybe half a li away, orange light flickered between trees. Voices carried—men's, laughing, bottles clinking. Bandits again, or worse.
"How many?" I whispered.
"Four, maybe five. Sound drunk." She hesitated. "They've got horses. One's limping."
The cleaver man's face flashed in my mind. My gut twisted. The jade pulsed once, eager.
"We go around," I said.
But Xiao Lan was already sliding her knife back into its sheath. "Or we take them."
We moved quiet, shadows among shadows. The fire grew brighter, faces clearer. Five men, rough cloaks, weapons scattered. One horse tied to a tree, favoring its near foreleg. The leader—yes, cleaver man—sat with his thigh bandaged, swigging from a jar. His qi was thin, flickering like a candle in wind.
We circled wide, came at them from upwind. Xiao Lan signaled: she left, me right.
I crept closer, heart loud in my ears. The jade drank in the night air, growing hot. When I was ten paces out, the closest bandit turned his head—too late. My knife found the soft spot under his jaw. He gurgled, slumped.
The others jumped up, shouting. Chaos. Xiao Lan burst from the dark, knife flashing. I moved without thinking, body remembering yesterday's fight. The jade pulled again—take—and suddenly their movements were slow, predictable.
Cleaver man came at me, limping but furious. His qi was weaker, but rage made it sharp. I sidestepped, felt the air whistle past my ear. My return slash opened his arm to the bone. Blood sprayed, hot on my face.
He dropped the cleaver, clutched the wound. "Please—"
The jade sang. I could end it, take the last of his qi, leave him empty. My arm rose without permission.
Xiao Lan's shout cut through: "Lin!"
I froze. The man stared up at me, eyes wild with pain and something like recognition. Not fear now—resignation.
I lowered the knife. "Run."
He didn't need telling twice. Grabbed his jar, limped into the dark. The others scattered, leaving their weapons.
Xiao Lan wiped her blade on a cloak. "You let him go."
"He wasn't worth it." But my voice shook. The jade cooled, disappointed.
We searched the camp. Food, a little silver, a skin of decent wine. The limping horse whinnied when I approached, nuzzled my hand like it knew me. I cut its tether.
Xiao Lan watched. "That thing's getting greedy."
"It's getting smarter," I corrected. "Learning what I won't do."
She handed me the wine skin. I took a long pull—sharp, burning clean. The vein on my arm pulsed once, then stilled.
We led the horse back to our rock. As we settled, Xiao Lan spoke soft. "Tomorrow we hit the main road. Mount Hua's not far. If you're serious about learning control, that's where you start."
I nodded, exhaustion hitting all at once. The jade lay quiet now, but I could feel it waiting, patient as stone.
Sleep came uneasy, dreams of black veins spreading through my chest like roots. When I woke, the vein had reached my shoulder—thin, dark, but undeniably part of me.