Xiang Yu stood rooted where he was, eyes fixed on the lone figure moving away. The long chain tethered to Xue Wuheng's ankle dragged across the scorched ground with a low, scraping whisper, each link glinting dully in the crimson half-light.
There was something about that back, straight yet weary, that was both desolate and terrifying, like a king who had walked through centuries of ruin and carried the weight with unshaken pride.
Xiang Yu's lips pressed into a thin line. His curiosity won. He took a step, then another, until his stride fell into rhythm six paces behind the chained man.
In this barren expanse where nothing living stirred, the sight was strange, two figures moving together, bound by nothing except the invisible thread of unanswered questions. The silence between them was vast, yet heavy enough to be felt.
