( ...soon, but for every second, every trickling of time seeing mark through drumming, the slap of large feet peculiarly close to Lan Wangji's own skull, and his footing skidding.

He does not recuperate as readily, as swiftly as he would wish it done, teeth gritting as he raises Bichen to tackle another swing, the fresh threat of a crush. He falls back, one foot nearly folding, but the knee locking in time — he is holding back, he realises, a mere fraction of the creature's strength.

...its two fingers, to be precise. )

Now? ( The titan is, after all, pushing him back like a fly. )