The silence broke with steel.
The axe-bearer roared and lunged, both blades flashing down again, while the chain-wielder snapped his weapon forward, links hissing through the torchlit air.
For a breath, the square became a storm of metal.
Kuangren moved like water through cracks in stone. His chipped sword met the first axe, not with brute strength but precision, redirecting it by a hair's breadth. He twisted, and the second axe cut only the air where he had been.
The chain whistled in from behind, the weighted end snapping toward his skull. Without looking, Kuangren ducked, feeling the rush of air above his hair. His crimson eyes glinted, almost playful, as he slid under the attack.
He let the chain strike the axe-bearer's shoulder instead.
The heavy links bit into flesh with a crunch. The man cursed, stumbling, his grin twisting into rage.
The crowd roared at the chaos.
Kuangren stepped back, sword hanging loosely again, lips curved in a cruel smile.
"You're helping me," he murmured. His voice wasn't loud, but the nearby rows heard it. They shivered as his words slithered into their ears like poison.
The axe-bearer snarled. "I'll gut you!"
He charged again, axes swinging wildly, rage drowning caution. The chain-wielder adjusted, circling tighter, seeking an opening, his chain rattling like a serpent ready to strike.
Kuangren didn't retreat.
He advanced.
The chipped sword clashed against the first axe with a screech of iron, sparks spraying across the square. Kuangren's long hair whipped as he twisted, sliding past the second blade. His knee drove up into the axe-bearer's gut with bone-crunching force.
The man choked, spittle flying, but before he could recover, Kuangren spun, slashing his sword across the man's chest. The dull blade didn't cut clean, but it tore flesh all the same, leaving a raw, ugly gash.
The crowd screamed as blood sprayed.
The axe-bearer staggered back, clutching at his chest, his wide grin replaced with wide-eyed disbelief.
Kuangren licked his lips.
"Yes… bleed for me."
The chain lashed out again, fast, desperate, curling around Kuangren's arm before he could twist free. The links bit into his flesh, scraping skin, drawing thin rivulets of crimson.
The chain-wielder yanked hard, teeth bared. "Got you!"
Kuangren didn't resist.
He let himself be pulled.
The momentum hurled him forward into the chain-wielder's range, the enemy's grin widening as he prepared to crush Kuangren's skull with the weighted end.
But Kuangren's crimson eyes flared — alive, savage.
At the last instant, he stepped inside the strike, so close the chain-wielder's eyes went wide. Kuangren's forehead slammed into the man's nose with a sickening crack.
Bone splintered. Blood exploded. The chain-wielder screamed, reeling back, clutching his ruined face.
Kuangren wrenched the chain off his arm, strands of his own blood dripping down his pale skin. He flexed his fingers, smearing the crimson with deliberate slowness.
Then he smiled.
"My turn."
The axe-bearer had recovered enough to charge again, rage overriding pain. He swung both blades in a deadly cross-cut, aiming to cleave Kuangren in two.
But Kuangren didn't flinch. He stepped into the strike, sliding low between the arcs. One axe kissed his shoulder, tearing a shallow gash, but his sword drove upward with perfect precision.
It punched into the axe-bearer's throat.
The chipped blade didn't pierce clean, but it crushed flesh, ruptured veins. The man's eyes bulged, axes dropping as he staggered, choking on his own blood.
Kuangren twisted the blade, slow, savoring the spray.
The crowd howled, half in ecstasy, half in horror.
The axe-bearer collapsed, twitching, lifeless.
The chain-wielder stared, blood dripping from his broken nose, his chain trembling in his hands.
Kuangren turned to him, crimson eyes burning brighter than the torches.
"One left."
He advanced, step by step, dragging the chipped sword against the stone floor, sparks trailing behind. The sound — sharp, grating — filled the square like a funeral bell.
The chain-wielder panicked. He lashed out wildly, the weapon clattering against stone, air, anything but flesh. His hands shook, his breathing ragged.
The crowd smelled his fear.
Kuangren's laughter rose again, raw and jagged, echoing through the arena.
"You're already dead."
He lunged.
The chipped sword slashed across the man's thigh, hamstring snapping. He collapsed with a scream, his chain slipping uselessly from his grasp.
Kuangren stood over him, hair falling in a dark curtain, crimson eyes glowing like a demon's.
"Beg," he whispered.
The man whimpered, blood pooling beneath him. His lips parted, but no words came.
Kuangren's sword rose.
And fell.
The crowd exploded as the man's scream was cut short.
Blood splattered across Kuangren's face, his chest, dripping down his blade. He tilted his head back, eyes half-closed, laughter spilling into the night like a hymn.
Two bodies lay broken at his feet.
And the legend of Gu Kuangren grew sharper, darker, unstoppable.