Su Cheng's lungs burned. Every breath was a mouthful of freezing mist. He gripped the decree in his left hand, the silk damp and heavy.
He forced a smile, arching an eyebrow in the dark. He needed to look like a man who held all the cards. In his head, the math was simple: authority equals safety.
It was a bad calculation.
Zhou Yan squinted from the bridge. He saw the Marquis's jade token glinting in the lantern light. He remembered the name.
In this world, the Marquis was a snake. A leech in silk robes.
"Wei Da," Zhou Yan muttered. His voice was low, the student inside him taking over. "My gut says this ends badly."
He held out a hand. Wei Da placed a heavy composite bow into his palm. Zhou Yan's fingers traced the worn wood.
"Who knows?" he murmured, adjusting his grip. "A pro-gamer tank like me, holding this? Ridiculous."
He drew the string. The tension coiled through his shoulders, pulling at his unhealed stitches. A sharp spike of pain hit his side.
He ignored it. He aimed for the Marquis's neck. The "God of Death" instinct wanted a kill.
"I ain't no God of Death," he whispered. "I'm Big Cat."
He shifted his aim at the last second. He targeted the waving scroll. The arrowhead caught a sliver of moonlight. He exhaled.
Released.
The arrow whistled.
Su Cheng heard the high-pitched hum. He twisted, his horse shying away as he fumbled for the sword at his saddle.
The arrow missed the scroll. It cut through the air, a dark streak heading straight for the tailor shop.
Han Jue didn't blink. The marksman's logic from a thousand matches took over. He stepped sideways. His long hair whipped across his face as the wind caught it.
He reached out—a blurred, desperate motion—and caught the arrow's shaft mid-air. The wood stung his palm, vibrating with lethal energy. The tip stopped inches from Bai Lan's throat.
"Master, run!" Bai Lan screamed.
She unsheathed her blade. The steel sang.
On the roof, Lin Kai moved. He didn't climb; he fell forward into a sprint. His Shuangshou-jian daggers spun in his grip.
They felt heavy.
Lethal. He hit the ground with a dull thud and lunged.
The Overseers followed. They were shadows with teeth.
Bai Lan met Lin Kai in a clash of sparks. Her longsword was a wall of steel, blocking his high-low twin strike. Lin Kai didn't stay to fight.
He twisted his body, his daggers parrying her blade with a harsh, grinding screech of metal. He wasn't there for her.
He dove past her, his eyes locked on the Merchant.
Han Jue didn't wait. He bolted. He leaped from the terrace. He hit the mud with a bone-deep jar, his knees buckling.
At the bridge entrance, Fuige stepped in front of Li Feng, his hand on his hilt.
"Stay back, Your Highness!"
Li Feng watched the chaos. His hands were shaking in his sleeves. The "5%" was screaming. The brawl had started.
Han Jue lunged through the mud. The sound of heavy hooves tore through the chaos. Zhou Yan was there, leaning low from the saddle.
He reached out a hand, fingers calloused and raw.
"Gotcha, Jue," Zhou Yan grunted.
He hauled Han Jue up. As Han Jue swung behind the saddle, Zhou Yan's face went gray.
The stitches in his side ripped. A hot, wet sensation spread under his tunic—fresh blood soaking into the indigo silk.
"Big Cat?" Han Jue hissed, smelling the sudden copper tang.
Lin Kai was already moving. He didn't run; he hunted. He flicked his wrist. An Emei Ci—a piercing dagger—spun through the air. It buried itself in the horse's flank.
The beast shrieked, rearing in a tangle of limbs and foam.
Zhou Yan and Han Jue hit the ground. They didn't roll gracefully. They slammed into the dirt, shoulders first, the impact knocking the air from their lungs. Han Jue tasted grit. He pushed himself up, mud coating his expensive robes.
"Ready to fight, Jue?" Zhou Yan panted, clutching his bleeding side.
"As ready as you, Big Cat."
Han Jue pulled a heavy iron fan from his belt. The metal ribs snapped open with a sharp, lethal click. He ran at Lin Kai.
Steel met iron. Lin Kai's daggers were a blur of motion, carving thin, red lines into Han Jue's forearms. Han Jue didn't have the "God of Death" skill, but he had a gambler's reflexes.
He snapped the fan shut, catching a dagger blade between the metal ribs, then shoved forward, his knuckles bruising as he struck Lin Kai's jaw.
Lin Kai spat blood. He lunged back, his dagger biting into Han Jue's shoulder. Both men bled into the mud, their breathing ragged and wet.
Behind them, the bridge was slaughterhouse.Wei Da roared, swinging his blade into the Overseers, his eyes bloodshot and desperate.
Bai Lan and Fuige were locked in a dance of death. Bai Lan's sword swept low, slicing through Fuige's sleeve. He countered, the hilt of his sword slamming into her ribs. Neither backed down.
Li Feng stood in the center. The clashing metal echoed in his skull like a hammer. The smell of the ravine—wet earth and dying men—triggered something dark.
The Tyrant was waking up.
He saw the Marquis. Su Cheng was there, clutching his sword like a man holding a snake.
"I need to survive," Li Feng whispered. "I have to find them."
He didn't think. He threw his primary sword. It spun end-over-end, a lethal silver propeller. Su Cheng's ears rang with the whistle of the blade.
He calculated the trajectory, a pro-gamer's twitch response. He flicked his own sword, the metal "pinging" as he deflected the flying blade into the dirt.
But Li Feng was already airborne.
The Prince lunged, a second blade held in a white-knuckled, two-handed grip. He dropped toward Su Cheng like a falling star, his eyes glowing with a cold, terrifying hunger.
Su Cheng shoved his scabbard up. The impact was a bone-shaking jolt. He looked up into Li Feng's face. He didn't see a friend. He saw a monster.
On the left, Lin Kai saw the downward strike. His heart stopped.
"Cheng!" he screamed.
The calculation was broken. The blade was inches from Su Cheng's throat.
The "God of Death" wasn't a title anymore. It was a fever. Zhou Yan's side screamed as the stitches finally gave way, warm blood gushing down his hip, but he didn't slow.
He saw the Prince's blade descending on the Marquis. He saw the end of the only world that made sense.
He lunged.
His shoulder slammed into Li Feng's chest. The impact sounded like a wet thud. They tumbled across the stone, a mess of gold silk and iron armor.
Su Cheng scrambled back, his breath coming in jagged hitches, his Marquis token skittering into the dark ravine below.
Zhou Yan pinned the Prince. He tasted copper. He spat a thick glob of red onto Li Feng's cheek.
"It's me," Zhou Yan rasped. His fingers dug into the Prince's collar, shaking him. "It's Big Cat. Feng... look at me. Don't bet on the card. Bet on the frequency."
Li Feng's eyes were blown wide, the pupils trembling. The "Tyrant" was losing its grip.
But the bridge wasn't empty.
"Overseers! Kill the traitors!" Number 3 roared from the shadows.
The standoff broke into a red blur. The Overseers didn't care about reunions. They moved in, blades flashing. Bai Lan screamed as a sword caught her shoulder.
Wei Da took a spear to the thigh, barking a curse as he went down on one knee, still swinging his heavy blade.
Lin Kai was a whirlwind. He spun his daggers, the metal "snicking" through leather and flesh.
He took a gash across his ribs to keep an Overseer away from Han Jue's back. Han Jue snapped his iron fan open, the sharpened ribs catching a throat, sprays of hot crimson painting his face.
The bridge was slick with it. Mud, sleet, and the heavy, sweet scent of fresh blood.
"Get up!" Han Jue yelled, his voice cracking. He grabbed Su Cheng by the collar, dragging the trembling Marquis toward the center.
"We're being boxed in!"
They clustered together—the five variables, bleeding and broken. Around them, the Overseers circled like wolves. Number 3 stepped into the lantern light, his sword dripping.
"The Marquis, the General, the Merchant, and the Prince," the masked man hissed. "One grave for all of you."
Su Cheng looked at his friends. He looked at the blood on their hands. His eyes moved to the edge of the bridge, then to the dark water below.
The math was simple now.
"Jump," Su Cheng whispered.
"What?" Lin Kai choked out, parrying a strike.
"The probability of surviving the fall is ten percent," Su Cheng screamed over the roar of the wind. "The probability of staying on this bridge is zero! JUMP!"
A volley of arrows hissed from the rooftops.
They didn't have time to speak. They didn't have time to recognize the faces behind the blood.
They just moved. Five bodies hit the air at once, plunging into the black void of the ravine.
Silence swallowed the bridge. Only the rain remained.