A single orange arc cut the violet gloom.
Chkkk.
The steel striker scraped across the sharp edge of the flint.
The sound was tiny, no louder than the crack of a dry twig under an insect’s foot.
“Drop it!” Lu Chen barked.
His voice was like an iron hammer striking an anvil, loud enough to rattle the hunters’ teeth.
Old Man Yan lunged across the stone hollow with a wild shriek, clawing at the boy’s wrist.
“No, you fool—!”
