"Don't. Move."

Blade's quiet, deep, velvety and dangerous voice murmurs lowly in your ear, his sword held to your throat as he pins you with your back against his chest.

His scarlet gaze flickers upwards, to Jing Yuan, and he smirks, his sharp canines slightly obvious in the moonlight.

"I wouldn't move a muscle if I were you, general."

The sharp blade presses a bit into your throat, drawing a small drop of your precious blood.

"... Unless, of course, you want your little sweetheart here to die..."