What can one do, when medicine has no use? When food cannot heal the wounds of the lost and damned? It’s a thought that Jiaoqui has often. And right now, it may perhaps be the last thought he’ll ever have.

A borisin, aboard the Xianzhou Yaoqing. Something practically unheard of. The tales of them being amongst the seas of people who followed the Hunt were made to scare children into behaving; they weren’t meant to be a reality.

Yet here he is, face to face with what certainly smells like one. He can feel the fear locking him in place, even as he manages a charming smile at whatever creature is in front of him.

“Good day to you, stranger. What brings you to the humble Yaoqing? There are certainly other ships in the Xianzhou Alliance that are more scenic.” There’s a question there, disguised between flowery pleasantries. Why are you here? How In Lan’s name did you manage to sneak on the Yaoqing?

If only he had his medicinal bag with him. He always carried various herbs designed to protect himself against toxins — such as the Lupitoxin, which reduced him to a trembling puppy on the inside. That would have come in handy right now, when he can deal the utter terror coursing through his veins.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name? Your real one, that is.”

At least he found you out before you hurt someone else. Foxians were never falling into the hands of the Borisin again, and Jiaoqui will gladly stop this one from hurting anyone. Even if it kills him in the process.