When the sound of the bronze bell, coated in the ink-green venom of a serpent, slithered into his brow, Pi Yanlin’s molars clicked together.
He tried to raise his hand to catch the serpent, but his fingertips met only a mass of mist—when he opened his eyes, he was standing under the stone cliffs behind the ancient temple.
The moonlight looked as though it had been splashed with ink, with only half a jagged crescent hanging from the treetops.
Chapter 26