Zhao’s hand came away from the seal panel. Wei had moved into the space between the elder and the open door, and Luo was still asking Ke questions. Yan stood by the dark floor marks, watching for another order. He could feel the power in his arms and legs, easy to call upon. The red bands at his wrists still throbbed where they had pinched him.
Zhao moved without warning.
His palm flashed toward Yan’s chest, qi gathered in a sealing strike. Yan shifted to meet it, but he had been watching Zhao’s hands rather than his feet. The elder’s step cut the angle. His palm struck Yan below the ribs before Yan could turn fully.
The blow drove the breath from Yan. Pain spread along his side. He stumbled backward, shoulder hitting a hanging lantern chain. The chain clanked against its hook. The lantern swung once, struck the wall, and fell.
“Yan!” Qinghe shouted.
He raised his arm against the metal frame. It hit across his shoulder and rolled down his sleeve, dragging the wick against the cloth. Heat bit through the fabric. He slapped at the flame, then shoved the lantern away with his boot. The wick landed on the stone still burning.
