The night air is cool against my face, but my body still feels tainted—like the poison under my skin is seeping into my very soul. The stolen coat sits heavy on my shoulders, a constant reminder of the life I just ended.
I exhale sharply and push the thought aside.
Focus.
I walk cautiously, my eyes scanning my surroundings. The streets are dimly lit, the glow of lanterns flickering against the worn stone roads. The city isn't entirely unfamiliar—it feels like a world I should know, yet everything is slightly... wrong.
I pass through an open square where a few merchants are packing up their stalls for the night. Everything looks normal, peaceful even. But I can't shake the feeling that something is watching me.
I need information.
I spot a decently dressed man, his posture relaxed but not aimless—he doesn't look like a beggar or a thief. He might know something.
I approach carefully, tapping his shoulder.
"Excuse me," I say, keeping my voice even. "I need to find a place to eat, but since I'm new to this place, could you guide me?"
The man turns, his dark eyes studying me before a warm smile spreads across his face.
"You're new here?" he asks casually. "So it's your first time visiting Fenghua?"
Fenghua?
My stomach tenses. I blink at him, forcing my expression to remain neutral.
I have never heard of this place in my life.
But I nod anyway. "Yeah. First time."
His smile doesn't falter. "I see. Well, I'm Feng Leng. How about I show you around the whole city?"
I narrow my eyes slightly. Why is he so willing to help a random man?
"Do you…" I pause, watching his face carefully. "Do you maybe know me?"
His smile remains, calm and unbothered. Too calm.
"Did you tell me your name yet?" he says lightly. "How could I know you?" Then he lets out a short laugh. "Actually, I'm new here too. But I've been staying for a week, so I know my way around."
A week? That's barely any time to know an entire city well enough to offer a tour.
Still, I can't sense any immediate threat from him.
I hesitate before answering. "I'm Shen Zhu."
His expression doesn't change. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't react like the men from before.
He just nods, still smiling. "Good to meet you, Shen Zhu. Still want me to show you around?"
If he recognizes my name, he's hiding it well.
I glance around the streets. I still don't know what kind of dangers lurk here. Having a guide—even a suspiciously friendly one—might work to my advantage.
"...Sure," I say after a moment.
Feng Leng grins, then turns and starts walking, his steps light and confident. I follow closely, keeping my guard up.
Something about him doesn't sit right with me.
He suddenly lets out another laugh, shaking his head in amusement.
I frown. "What's so funny?"
"You don't trust me," he says simply, glancing at me with mischief in his eyes. "It's all over your face."
I scowl, but he only chuckles again.
"But don't worry," he continues. "I'm not a bad man. I'm just helping you."
That's exactly what a bad man would say.
But I don't argue. I just keep walking, my fingers brushing the hilt of my new sword.
If he tries anything, he'll regret it.
The inn was modest—nothing extravagant, but clean enough. The scent of sizzling meat and fragrant broth lingered in the air, mingling with the faint bitterness of tea. Conversations hummed around us, a mix of merchants discussing trade, travelers sharing stories, and locals exchanging gossip.
I sat across from Feng Leng, my back against the wall, where I could see the entrance and most of the room. The habit was instinctual. Even in an unfamiliar world, my body knew better than to let my guard down.
Feng Leng, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair. He studied me with that ever-present, calculating gaze.
I didn't trust him.
Not yet.
"What do you think of this place?" Feng Leng asked, his voice casual as he poured himself tea.
I hesitated, glancing around once more before answering. "It's... fine."
The word felt empty, but what else could I say? That I didn't belong here? That every sound, every face, every breath of this world felt like a mistake?
His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he leaned back, watching me closely. "Why do you look so guarded?"
I met his gaze evenly, masking the unease stirring inside me. "I'm not. Just looking around."
A lie.
But if he noticed, he didn't press further. Instead, he nodded slowly, as if filing the information away for later.
The conversation paused as our food arrived. A serving girl placed bowls of steaming rice, braised meat, and stir-fried vegetables in front of us. The warmth from the dishes curled into the air, carrying the comforting scent of ginger and garlic.
I picked up my chopsticks, but my mind was elsewhere. A question sat heavy on my tongue, demanding to be asked.
I hesitated.
Then, before I could stop myself—
"So… do you know anything about the Eighth Prince of Longxia?"
Feng Leng froze mid-sip, his cup lingering at his lips. His brows furrowed slightly, as if I had just spoken a foreign language.
Then—he laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not an amused scoff. A full-bodied, genuine laugh.
My fingers tensed around the chopsticks.
Feng Leng wiped the corner of his eye, finally managing to contain himself. He cleared his throat and gave me an incredulous look.
"Longxia? What are you talking about? What even is that place? And who's the Eighth Prince?"
I felt a chill creep down my spine.
His confusion was real.
Longxia doesn't exist here.
Nor do I… as the Eighth Prince.
The realization settled in my chest like a stone. Then who am I in this world?
And more importantly—
Why were people after me?
Or rather—why were they after this Shen Zhu?
I lowered my gaze to my bowl, my thoughts spiraling.
Another Shen Zhu died here. That's why I'm here, right?
But I died too. Or at least… I think I did.
Did that mean I had taken his place? But if that was the case, then who was I really now? Shen Zhu of Longxia… or the one who had perished in this world?
My chest tightened.
"Are you still there?"
A hand waved in front of my face. I blinked, snapping back to the present.
Feng Leng was watching me with open curiosity now, his lips curled into a smirk.
I nodded quickly, forcing my expression back into something neutral.
"I… it's just a story my mother used to tell me," I said, crafting the lie smoothly. "Never mind if you don't know it."
Feng Leng hummed, tilting his head. "Sounds interesting. So, what's the story about?" He leaned forward slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And do you ask this question to everyone you meet, or am I just special?"
I shot him a glare.
He was testing me.
I didn't answer, turning my attention back to my food.
"I was just making conversation," I muttered, ending the topic. "Let's eat."
Feng Leng chuckled but didn't push further. The conversation faded into the clatter of dishes and the murmurs of other patrons.
But in my mind, the question remained.
If I am not Shen Zhu of Longxia, then who was I supposed to be in this world?
And why did my existence warrant death?
The warmth of the inn did little to ease my nerves. Though we sat at a small wooden table, surrounded by the chatter of other patrons and the clinking of bowls and cups, I felt anything but at ease. The dim light of hanging lanterns cast flickering shadows on the worn wooden walls, and the faint scent of burning oil mixed with the aroma of sizzling meat and fragrant spices.
Across from me, Feng Leng sat with his usual relaxed demeanor, chopsticks idly turning over a piece of meat in his bowl. However, I could feel his gaze lingering on me.
I ignored it at first, focusing instead on my food. But after several minutes of this silent scrutiny, I finally glanced up.
"Are you going to eat, or do you find watching me more interesting?" I asked, my tone neutral.
Feng Leng's lips curved into an easy smirk. "Just making sure you don't disappear on me."
I frowned. "Why would I do that?"
He shrugged, taking a slow sip of his tea. "Who knows? Maybe you're the type who likes to slip away when no one's looking."
Before I could respond, the inn's doors swung open with a loud creak, and a group of men strode inside. Their heavy boots thudded against the wooden floor, their dark cloaks dripping with rain. A gust of cold air followed them, causing the lantern flames to flicker.
I didn't react at first. Travelers and mercenaries were common in these places. But when I noticed their sharp gazes scanning the room, searching for something—someone—I instinctively stiffened.
Then their eyes landed on our table. More specifically, on Feng Leng.
I turned my head slightly, observing his reaction. Unlike me, he showed no signs of tension. He remained seated, completely at ease, even as the men approached with clear intent.
The tallest of the group stepped forward, his rough hands reaching out without hesitation. In one swift movement, he grabbed Feng Leng by the collar and yanked him up.
The entire inn went silent. The other patrons merely cast quick glances before returning to their meals, heads lowered, minds set on pretending nothing was happening.
I glanced around, expecting at least some resistance from the innkeeper or staff, but no one so much as flinched.
"Come with us," the man growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Or you die here."
Feng Leng, still in the man's grasp, smiled. Not a nervous or forced smile—but an amused one, as if he found the whole situation entertaining.
"I'm right here," he said smoothly. "Take me with you, or kill me. Because if you don't…"
His head turned slightly, and his eyes met mine, amusement dancing in their depths.
"…then my friend here will kill you all."
The room went still.
Every eye turned toward me.
I blinked, then let out a quiet breath.
Slowly, I placed my chopsticks down and leaned back in my chair, leveling Feng Leng with a glare. "I'm not your friend." My voice was flat. "And you're lying."
A few skeptical chuckles rippled through the group. The man holding Feng Leng sneered. "Is that so? Then why were you eating together?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, he shoved Feng Leng roughly back into his seat and turned his full attention to me.
"No one can stop us from taking him today," he continued, stepping closer. "Not even you."
He loomed over me, his breath thick with the stench of cheap wine and arrogance.
I tilted my head slightly, exhaling through my nose. "You want him?" I asked coolly. "Be my guest. I don't care if you kill him."
That gave him pause. His brows furrowed as if my indifference didn't quite fit with what he'd expected.
"You think I'm a fool?" he finally muttered.
I let out a slow, deliberate sigh. "No."
Then, in one swift motion, I grabbed his wrist and twisted.
A sickening crack echoed through the inn.
The man howled in pain, his fingers instantly releasing me. Before he could react, I struck—my palm shot up in a precise arc, slamming into his chin. His head snapped back, and he stumbled into a nearby table, knocking over dishes and cups.
Silence.
Then—
The sharp sound of steel leaving its scabbard.
The remaining men drew their swords, their blades glinting under the lantern light.
Across the room, their leader stood still, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his weapon, watching with an unreadable expression.
I rolled my shoulders, exhaling slowly. "If you're going to kill me, get it over with."
One of them lunged.
His sword cut through the air in a horizontal slash. I leaned back, feeling the wind of the blade pass just inches from my chest. The moment he overextended, I stepped in, seized his wrist, and twisted. His grip faltered, and I struck—an elbow to the ribs, sharp and precise. As his sword fell, I caught it mid-air.
The next attack came immediately. I turned just in time to parry, the clash of steel ringing through the inn. Sparks flew as I deflected the blow, pivoting behind my opponent. With a sharp downward strike, I brought the blunt side of my blade against his shoulder. He crumpled to the ground with a groan.
A third man roared, his weapon raised high for a downward strike. I sidestepped smoothly, lifting my own sword to meet his. The force of the impact vibrated through my arms.
He was strong.
But not strong enough.
I let him push forward, then shifted my weight and swept his legs out from under him. The moment he hit the floor, I slammed my hilt into his temple. His body went limp.
That left one.
The leader.
A slow clap echoed through the inn.
I turned to find him smirking, his fingers lazily gripping the ornate hilt of his sword. Unlike the others, his sword was no crude mercenary weapon—it was refined, elegant.
A real swordsman.
His smirk deepened. "Impressive."
I flicked the blood off my borrowed blade, my voice flat. "And you talk too much."
He finally drew his weapon.
He moved fast. Precise. Every strike calculated. Our blades clashed in rapid succession, the sharp sound filling the inn. He was skilled, his movements controlled—but predictable.
He thrust toward my chest. Instead of retreating, I turned my body just enough to let the blade pass. In the same instant, I countered with a sharp downward slash. He barely managed to block, stumbling from the force.
I advanced.
A quick feint left—then a true strike to the right. He moved to block, but I was already shifting, knocking his sword from his grasp. The jian clattered to the floor.
My blade was at his throat.
Silence.
The few patrons who had been pretending to ignore the fight now watched with bated breath.
I held my position, my voice low and cold. "You threatened me. You threatened him." My eyes flickered toward Feng Leng, who still hadn't moved from his seat. "Now, do you wish to beg for your life?"
The leader's jaw clenched. He knew. One wrong move, and he was dead.
I pulled my sword back, flipping it in my hand before tossing it at his feet. "Leave. Before I change my mind."
He hesitated, then let out a sharp whistle. His remaining men scrambled to gather their fallen comrades before retreating out the door.
The inn remained silent for several beats. Then—
"You could've helped earlier, you know," Feng Leng finally spoke, his tone light, as if I hadn't just fought an entire group of armed men.
I turned to him, shaking the blood from my knuckles. "You could've fought for yourself."
He sighed, stretching lazily. "Yeah, but that's what friends are for, right?"
I narrowed my eyes. "We are not friends."
Feng Leng grinned. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."