"Sure," says Shen Yuan, absently, still fiddling with the easel height, and then actually thinks about it. "I mean, I've never killed people with grass, but I've hurt them, and I was taking zombies out pretty well the other day." To demonstrate, he pulls several golden gingko leaves to him, weighs them between his fingers like throwing stars, and flicks them into the nearest tree-trunk, where they embed themselves, trembling, a good few inches into the wood.