Part H – Silent Witness
The torchlight of the council chamber flickered below as Zhu Zhuqing melted deeper into the shadows of the rafters. Her breath was quiet, controlled, as if the very air might betray her presence. She had learned long ago to move unseen, to make silence her armor.
Yet her heart beat far too loud in her chest.
Kuangren's name still echoed in the mouths of those killers, men and women who ruled this Arena of blood. To them, he was not a boy, not even a human being. He was a weapon, a monster, an investment to be bled for profit.
Zhu Zhuqing's claws dug into the wooden beam beneath her, splinters pricking her skin. She had seen cruelty before. In her clan, strength was everything, weakness a sin. But this was different. In Slaughter City, people were not raised to be strong. They were used until they broke.
Her golden eyes narrowed.
And yet… Kuangren was different too.
The memory of the square rose unbidden in her mind. His figure standing tall, blood splattering across his crimson eyes that burned with something more primal than hatred. His laughter, sharp and raw, had sliced through the crowd's cheers like a knife.
That laughter should have disgusted her. It should have sent her back into the shadows, away from his madness.
But instead, it had unsettled her in another way.
Because she had recognized it.
That sound wasn't just madness. It was freedom.
Her chest tightened.
In her clan, she had been caged her entire life. Shackled to duties she despised, tethered to a path chosen for her by others. Even here, in Slaughter City, she walked carefully, silently, avoiding the gaze of those who might notice her.
But Kuangren?
He carved his own path with blood. He bowed to no rules, no council, no master.
That terrified her.
And it drew her in.
A muffled sound below pulled her back. The Arena's council was dispersing, shadows moving from the chamber, their footsteps fading into the stone halls. She waited until the last torch was dim and the last echo gone before slipping silently from her perch.
Through tunnels known only to the overlooked, she emerged into the cold night air above the Arena.
The square was empty now, its stones washed with buckets of water, streaks of diluted crimson vanishing into drains. But she could still smell it — the metallic tang of blood, the faint hint of Kuangren's killing intent clinging to the air like a phantom.
She stood there for a long time, staring at the empty arena floor, imagining him there again, tall and unyielding, a beast that could not be caged.
Her claws flexed.
She had promised herself not to get involved. Not here, not in this cursed city. But now?
Now, she wasn't sure she could keep that promise.
Zhu Zhuqing finally turned, her cloak wrapping around her as she slipped back into the night. Her golden eyes burned faintly in the darkness, mirroring his crimson ones in her memory.
The Arena might think Kuangren belonged to them.
But Zhu Zhuqing knew better.
He didn't belong to anyone.
And that, she realized, was exactly why she couldn't look away.