( He thinks, weighing the secrets of the sect against the pale interests of a practitioner with whom they are likely incompatible. She is improbable to cultivate any natural qi energies she might possess, let alone to cut a clean path to Cloud Recesses, to wield these instruments learned against his people.

This base, juvenile trick of talismans is hardly their own alone, to start. And so, conversationally: )

A medium. It focuses energies. ( Narrows their purpose and carefully, scrupulously weaponises them. Parchment only metabolises or refines that which already presents itself. ) Requires continuous exertion.

( However small, it is still a thought in the back of Lan Wangji's mind, a private and lingering annoyance. No matter. It is — all too literally — in hand, and the maws of the tunnel break and open, a void before them.

He walks in, untroubled, for all the stench of closed-off air, for all the claustrophobia. Stones scratch and snag his silks. He thinks to warn her — reconsiders. There are those offended by caution.

Then, steps ahead: susurration. )

Those weapons you confirmed. Make ready. ( There is a glistening of golden scales ahead. )