( Dungeons, shivered, dark like a womb but for the rare, guttered lights of flickering green fire. Danger coats his skin like lamp oil, spreading thickened and distinct on skin, biting his limbs warm.

Seek out the waypoints. Scant luck, on the first two levels. He has wrenched himself from one unto the next, in an efficient, prodigious intrusion. And now, sword glistened with stubborn white heat, he stares down the dungeon's mouth, barely descended, arrested on the stairwell's last step.

The gaping maws of the underground quarters unhinge wide before him. The girl speaks.

And Lan Wangji, trickled from shadows, intercedes beside her. )

You need not advance. ( Children do not suit warfare. ) It is not expected.