Part B – Two Blades, One Beast
The Arena's council chamber was dim, a half-circle of men and women cloaked in shadow, torches casting crooked shapes across their lined faces. At the head of the table sat the Arena Master, draped in crimson silk, his rings catching the firelight as his fingers tapped against the arm of his chair.
The air was thick, but not with incense — with unease.
Kuangren's name lingered like smoke no one could breathe clean.
A fat merchant shifted uncomfortably, tugging at his collar. "The crowd is… unsettled. They came to see Kael win, not die like an ox in the mud."
"Unsettled?" sneered another, a woman with hawk-like eyes. "They were hungry. Did you not hear them? That laughter — his laughter — they'll come back for more. They'll pay for more."
Her words rippled through the chamber. She was right. Even now, outside in the slums that bled into the Arena's shadow, whispers spread of the crimson-eyed boy who had butchered Kael.
Not just a fighter. A spectacle.
But the unease remained.
One of the guards who had stood watch outside Kuangren's cell was present, summoned to give account. He shifted nervously under their eyes, helmet tucked beneath his arm, his voice low but steady.
"He does not sleep, master. He… waits. We hear him speak. To himself. To no one. He laughs when there's nothing to laugh at."
A murmur rippled through the half-circle.
The Arena Master raised a hand, silencing them. His face was unreadable, the lines at the corners of his mouth neither smile nor frown.
"Fear is good," he said slowly, his voice a measured drawl. "Fear is the seed of legend."
The merchant leaned forward, wiping sweat from his brow. "But what if he breaks the balance? If he kills too easily, too quickly, the bets will dry. No one wagers on a fight with only one ending."
The hawk-eyed woman scoffed. "Then we give him more to kill."
The master's tapping ceased. His eyes, sharp and black as obsidian, cut through the council.
"Yes," he said at last. "One beast is a show. Two beasts are a spectacle. And if he slays them both…"
A thin smile broke his mask.
"…then he becomes a myth."
The chamber fell silent.
Two. No one had faced two at once in years. Not since the last time the Arena had birthed a legend. And that legend had died chained in the square, his name a cautionary tale.
The guards exchanged uneasy looks.
The merchant swallowed hard, his mind already tallying wagers, already hearing the coin clink in the pitiless streets outside.
And in the darkness above them, unseen, a shadow stirred.
Zhu Zhuqing's golden eyes flickered faintly, catching the dim firelight as she listened.
Two against one.
Her claws flexed unconsciously against the stone beam.
They want to feed him to slaughter, or turn him into something greater.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Either way, she realized…
…she couldn't look away.