Part E – Whispers in the Bloodhall
The roar of the crowd had not quieted, even long after the brute Kael's corpse had been dragged away.
The Arena's gambling hall swelled with bodies and noise, the stench of sweat, wine, and fresh blood clinging to the air. Coins clinked as bets were paid and collected. Some men shouted in triumph, others cursed, tearing slips of parchment in rage.
But above it all, one name rippled through the smoke-filled chamber like a fire leaping from tongue to tongue:
"Kuangren.""Gu Kuangren.""The Crimson Madman."
A group of gamblers clustered near the betting tables, voices overlapping.
"I told you he'd win—""Win? That wasn't a fight, it was a slaughter!""Kael was three years undefeated. Nobody's walked out of the pit with their head after fighting him. And this boy—fifteen, they say—fifteen!—cut him down like a hog!"
One man slammed his cup on the table, sloshing wine onto the stained wood. His face was pale, sweat clinging to his brow.
"I was there," he whispered, voice trembling despite his size. "I saw him. He laughed when Kael broke his ribs. He stood there—bleeding, broken—and smiled. Like it made him stronger."
The table went silent for a beat.
Then another gambler leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "A madman, then."
The first nodded, swallowing hard. "No. Not a madman. A devil."
At another corner, fighters too injured to fight that night huddled together, voices hushed.
"If they pit me against him, I'll throw my sword and run.""You run, they kill you anyway.""Better a clean death than his hands on me. Did you see what he did to Kael's throat? He didn't just kill him. He savoredit."
One of the younger men spat blood into a rag, his face pale. "They'll feed him more opponents. They always do when they find a monster. Let him rise, and we'll all just be meat in the grinder."
The whispers carried beyond the hall.
In the torchlit corridors of the Arena, servants dragged buckets of bloody water to scrub the fighting square. Even among them, the talk grew fevered.
"Crimson eyes, they said.""Like the devil himself.""No, I heard different. They say his blood doesn't spill like ours. That it boils. That it feeds him."
A laugh, nervous, hollow. "Boils? You've been drinking too much."
"Tell that to the corpse."
In the upper galleries, where the richer patrons sipped fine wine and placed wagers of gold rather than copper, the tone was different.
"He could be profitable," one lord murmured, twirling his cup. "The crowd loves him already. Give him a title, dress him in crimson, and he'll double the wagers."
A woman in silk laughed softly. "And if he grows too dangerous?"
The lord shrugged. "Then we'll pay to see him die."
Her smile sharpened. "As long as it's bloody."
Through it all, the name spread.
Gu Kuangren.The Crimson Madman.
A new monster for the Arena to feed.
And somewhere, deep in the shadows above, a pair of golden eyes had heard every word.
Zhu Zhuqing's claws tightened against her cloak. The city was taking notice. Not just the Arena master, not just her. Everyone.
And the madness she had witnessed alone in that chamber… was no longer her secret.