He doesn't have enough on him, and he grits his teeth, pulling on his waistband and jerking it free one handed, wrapping the man's hands, then as swiftly shifting and hog-tying him to his own legs. He's conscious, not capable of moving, unarmed, and silent, but his eyes are fevered and the mouth he can't open wants to form the words from before.

This, as swiftly as he can manage, because he recalls conversations, limits and challenges for a qilin, a kirin, which aren't familiar except that they're Taiki's. As of yet, Jingyi does not smell of blood; partly luck in where he's been involved with the temporal disturbances, partly because Lans are weapons trained to disable and to exorcise, and death dealing is only necessary when deemed necessary, not as a matter of course. He tugs a talisman from inside his robe, activates it with a flick of his fingers, and the area floods with scent, the brashness of vinegar that bites at the nostrils and pricks the eyes, which would make for an excellent prank if he were thinking about using it that way.

Right now, it's attempting a measure before he's kneeling before Taiki.

"There's some sort of compulsion. You're not the only one," he says, "Attacked. Taiki, does your body accept outside healing energy?"