Part B – The Cat Watches
The alleys of Slaughter City breathed with shadows.
Here, darkness was not absence but presence — it slithered, coiled, clung to walls and roofs like living things. The stench of rot and blood hung heavy in the air, masking any cleaner scent that might have once belonged to civilization. It was the perfect place for hunters, and the perfect place for prey.
Zhu Zhuqing knew this truth better than most. She had grown up in the shadow of predators, honed in the discipline of silence. Here, though, her skills were not merely sharpened — they were tested.
And the test had a name.
Gu Kuangren.
She had first seen him two nights ago, in the square where blood was currency and death was spectacle. She had come expecting another brute, another fool eager to flail until someone clever gutted him. But what she witnessed had shaken her.
It was not his size, though at fifteen his height already dwarfed grown men.It was not his crimson eyes, though they seemed to see further than sight allowed.
It was the way he moved.
Every strike had been deliberate, precise. Not wasted. Not panicked. And yet behind that precision lurked something feral, something unchained. He enjoyed it. Enjoyed killing in a way that made the jeering crowd seem timid by comparison.
Zhu Zhuqing had been raised to judge quickly, to measure allies and enemies with cold efficiency. By all measures, Gu Kuangren was dangerous.
Too dangerous to ignore.
Now, she followed.
Her boots made no sound against the broken stone. She flowed from wall to wall, slipping between shadows with the ease of breath. Her feline martial soul enhanced her senses: pupils narrowing in the dark, ears twitching to catch the faintest echo of movement.
Ahead, Kuangren walked like he owned the city.
He did not slink. Did not check corners. He strode, heavy and certain, his long black hair trailing like a banner of defiance. The broken sword rested against his shoulder, its jagged edge catching stray flickers of torchlight.
It should have been recklessness.Yet no one challenged him.
The beggars shrank back. The cutthroats pretended not to see. Even the lurking predators who usually sniffed out weakness gave him a wide berth.
It was as though the city itself bent away from his presence.
Zhu Zhuqing narrowed her eyes.Was it fear? Or instinct?
She kept her distance, padding lightly along a rooftop. From this vantage, she studied him. His gait was too relaxed for one who had lived here long. And yet, each time a shadow moved in the corner of an alley, his head tilted slightly, crimson eyes cutting that way.
Noticing. Always noticing.
Her heart beat faster.
If she could sense his awareness even from above, then her cover was thinner than she liked.
She pressed herself lower, crawling across the tiles, tailing him from the high ground like the predator she was bred to be.
They reached the edge of the square where the next fights would soon unfold. The torches burned brighter here, the air already thick with anticipation though the blood had not yet been spilled tonight.
Kuangren stopped.
He didn't sit. Didn't lean. He just stood, massive and immovable, as if waiting for the arena itself to bow to him. His crimson eyes lifted to the sky — a sky that did not exist here, hidden behind endless layers of cloud and ash.
For a moment, he was perfectly still.
Then his lips curled.
"Still following me."
Zhu Zhuqing froze.
Her pupils contracted to slits. Her hand went to the dagger at her waist. How? She had been careful, more careful than with any quarry before. She had left no sound, no breath.
Her mind raced, calculating. Did he truly know she was there, or was it bluff?
She waited. Still as stone.
Kuangren chuckled, low and quiet, but it rolled across the square like thunder.
"Cats should be quieter when they stalk."
Her blood went cold.
She had two choices: retreat or confront. Instinct screamed retreat — vanish into the alleys, regroup, study him from afar. But pride whispered otherwise.
If she fled now, she would be nothing but prey.
And Zhu Zhuqing was not prey.
She dropped from the roof, landing in a crouch across the square. The sound echoed, sharp, deliberate. She did not skulk; she stood, drawing herself up with grace, her eyes locked on his.
Kuangren turned to face her fully. The torchlight painted him in fire, his long frame towering, his crimson eyes gleaming like molten steel.
Zhu Zhuqing's breath caught despite herself.
"So," he said, tilting his head, "the little shadow shows herself."
Her reply was calm, even. "I don't hide from those I watch."
The grin widened on his lips. "Good. Hiding is for cowards."
His gaze swept her from head to toe, not with lust but with the appraisal of a predator sizing another. She felt the weight of it, heavy, suffocating. Yet she refused to lower her eyes.
Their silence stretched.
In that moment, the city's noise faded. No jeers, no whispers. Just the space between them, sharp as a drawn blade.
Finally, he spoke again. "Why?"
Her brow furrowed. "Why what?"
"Why follow me? You're not one of the city's dogs. You move too clean. Too quiet. You don't smell like them."
He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. His size became even more overwhelming as he loomed. "So. Why?"
Zhu Zhuqing's instinct was to deflect. But she knew better. Men like him could smell lies. She needed truth, or something near it.
"To measure you."
The answer hung between them, heavier than steel.
Kuangren blinked once, then laughed — loud, sudden, echoing off the stone walls. It wasn't mockery. It was amusement, genuine and raw.
"Measure me? Like cattle? Or like a blade?"
She held his gaze. "Both."
That laughter turned into a grin that split wider, baring teeth. He leaned in, close enough that she could see the faint bloodstains at the corner of his mouth.
"You'll cut yourself if you get too close to this blade."
Her pulse quickened. Her hand twitched toward her dagger. But she did not step back.
"I don't break that easily."
For a long, dangerous moment, neither moved.
Kuangren's crimson eyes bored into hers, searching, testing. Zhu Zhuqing felt her heart hammering, but she forced her body to remain steady, calm. If she faltered now, he would own her.
Finally, he leaned back, chuckling again. "Not bad, cat. Not bad at all."
He turned away, looking back to the arena gates. "Then watch, if you like. But remember this…"
His voice dropped, low and sharp, carrying like a blade's whisper.
"The closer you measure me, the more likely you'll see yourself in the reflection."
Her breath caught at the words.
For a heartbeat, she saw it: crimson eyes mirrored in her own. The hunger. The silence. The unspoken truth that maybe she wasn't watching a monster at all — maybe she was watching a future she could not escape.
She clenched her fists. Pushed the thought away.
But the seed had been planted.
And as she slipped back into the shadows, resuming her silent vigil, she knew the truth:
Watching Gu Kuangren was no longer about measuring.It was about surviving the mirror he held up to her.