The cell was narrow, its stone walls riddled with cracks and dampness that had seeped in over time, leaving behind traces of mold. The dim light from the torches hanging on the distant walls barely cut through the darkness, leaving most of the space drowned in lifeless shadows. The air was still, save for the murmurs of other prisoners—whispers akin to the sighs of abandoned souls awaiting their end.

And yet, amidst this ruin, his cell was different. Meticulously arranged, untouched by dust, and the bedding, though poor, was neatly laid as if no one had ever disturbed it. On the small, rickety table, simple utensils were aligned with deliberate precision, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him.

Fang Qi sat on his bed, his back straight, his gaze lost in the darkness beyond the bars. There was nothing to see, yet his eyes carried a weight beyond comprehension. When the outer prison door creaked open, he did not turn. Heavy footsteps echoed down the stone corridor, approaching him, but they did nothing to disturb his tranquility.

Three men stopped before his cell. They wore dark uniforms, carrying the scent of iron and sweat. They stood firmly, yet their eyes were not alike. The first, a stocky man with narrow eyes and a sneer barely masking his disdain. The second, younger, his eyes gleaming with unconcealed curiosity. The third, the most indifferent of them, as if none of this concerned him in the slightest.

"It's time," the first man said, his tone laced with cruel amusement.

Fang Qi tilted his head slightly, as if weighing the words, then let out a quiet sigh. It was no surprise, yet he granted himself a brief moment to absorb the announcement as though hearing it for the first time.

"So, it has come to this…" he murmured, his voice soft yet carrying a lingering echo. At last, he looked at them, his gaze unwavering.

The first officer chuckled, placing his hands on his hips. "I expected something more dramatic—screaming, maybe cursing? But you… You're too calm. As if you've been waiting for this day all along."

Fang Qi responded in a contemplative tone, as if speaking more to himself than to them. "Death… It's just a moment, fleeting like an inhale and an exhale. The only difference is that after the inhale, nothing follows."

A brief silence hung in the air before the second officer, unable to suppress his curiosity, broke it. "Why did you do it? All those bodies, all that blood? There was no pattern, no clear motive… Some say you've lost your mind."

Fang Qi smiled—not a happy smile, but one that carried the shadow of something deeper. "Perhaps I was trying to remember something… or maybe I was trying to forget."

The first officer scowled, irritated by the cryptic response. "Nonsense."

The third officer, who had remained silent the entire time, exhaled in boredom and said, "Enough. There's no point in talking. Let's just finish this."

At last, Fang Qi stood, slowly, as if testing the feeling of rising again. He walked toward the bars, running a hand over the cold iron. He turned to the curious officer, as if offering him one final answer.

"If you wish to understand… think of the moment when everything stops. When there is no past and no future—only a present that fades away."

The cell door creaked open, and the cold shackles clicked around his wrists. He did not resist, nor did he protest. He simply walked with them, as though stepping toward something he had been expecting for a long time.

At the end of the corridor, a great door awaited—along with the end of this chapter… and the beginning of something else.