e Black Viper Sect's stronghold was a festering wound in the mountainside. Obsidian walls, carved with serpentine reliefs that seemed to writhe in the torchlight, loomed over Li Shen as he approached. The gate stood open—a mockery of invitation—but the air reeked of opium and rotting meat. A warning.
His hands trembled.
Not from fear. From the *jade's hunger*.
Since the massacre in the woods, the relic had grown restless. It pulsed against his sternum like a second heart, its emerald veins threading through his ribs. Every breath seared his lungs with its power. Every step forward made it croon:
*"Closer. They're waiting."*
Li Shen adjusted the stolen Viper robes around his shoulders. The fabric stank of sweat and blood—the previous owner's, not his. Yet.
The courtyard beyond the gate was deserted save for a single figure: an old man sweeping ash from the stones. His bent back faced Li Shen, his knuckles gnarled like roots.
Wu Kai's memories *twitched*.
*—The old man's cane cracking across his knees.—*
*—A hissed insult: "Useless."—*
Li Shen's fingers curled.
The sweeper turned. Milky eyes widened.
"You." The word was a wheeze. "The Master said you'd crawl back."
Li Shen said nothing. The jade's whispers crescendoed.
The old man lunged—faster than his frame suggested—a dagger flashing from his sleeve.
Li Shen *moved*.
His hand snapped out, catching the man's wrist. Bone splintered. The dagger clattered to the stones.
The sweeper gasped. "You're not—"
Li Shen twisted. The old man's arm broke with a *wet crunch*.
"Where is Yan Luo?"
A gurgling laugh. "He's *feeding*."
The jade *shrieked* in Li Shen's skull.
He didn't remember killing the man. Only the aftermath: the sweeper's body crumpled at his feet, neck bent at an impossible angle. The ash on the stones now streaked with red.
Shouts erupted from the hall ahead. Shadows moved behind paper doors.
Li Shen stepped over the corpse and pushed inside.
The opiate haze hit him first—thick and cloying, clinging to his tongue. The hall was lined with low tables, disciples slumped over them in a drugged stupor. At the far end, a massive iron cage hung from the ceiling.
Something *dripped* from its bars.
A figure stirred inside. A man—no, what *used* to be a man—with sunken cheeks and lips sewn shut with wire. His fingers, too long and jointed wrong, curled around the bars.
Wu Kai's memories *screamed*.
*Yan Luo.*
The Viper Master's voice slithered through the hall, though his mouth never moved.
*"Little Kai. You brought me a gift."*
His stitched lips curled. Not at Li Shen.
At the *jade* in his chest.
The disciples began to rise.
The jade *laughed*.
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