Hidden in the shadows of the stone courtyard, Yu Xiaogang crouched low, barely daring to breathe.
He had seen enough.
Though his pride clenched against the truth, even he couldn't deny it—Tang Hao had lost.
With that in mind, he had decided it was time to leave. Quietly. Swiftly. Before Qian Yu noticed him. Before things spiraled beyond repair.
He edged backward, hugging the wall like a ghost afraid of moonlight. But just as he took another step—
"Why rush off so soon, Master Yu?" A young voice, calm as still water, rippled through the air.
Yu Xiaogang froze. His heart jerked. That voice—
He whipped his head around, eyes wide in disbelief.
There, standing just a few steps away, was a small figure cloaked in the faint shimmer of dusk. Barely taller than a child, but radiating the stillness of someone far, far older.
Qian Yu.
Yu stumbled back in terror, landing flat on his backside with a graceless thud. "I—I don't know what you're talking about!" he stammered, voice quivering.
Qian Yu's expression didn't change. His lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile. "Oh? Is that so?"
He studied Yu with a kind of quiet detachment, as if dissecting a painting he'd already seen a hundred times.
He knew Yu Xiaogang well enough. A man of borrowed power and counterfeit virtue. A schemer who wrapped himself in the robes of a sage, when in truth he had little more than words to offer.
Once, in his youth, Yu had fooled Flender and Liu Erlong into forming a team. But while they fought with blood and bone, Yu basked in the reflected glory, claiming their strength as his own.
Later, he bluffed his way into the halls of the Spirit Hall, even wooed Bibi Dong with honeyed lies. Not love. Manipulation.
And now, he rode on the coattails of Tang San, letting the boy's brilliance polish his own name.
Yes. Qian Yu had seen enough. Yu Xiaogang's entire life was a theater of smoke and mirrors—built on charm, deception, and betrayal.
Qian Yu's voice remained even, like the wind brushing through winter trees. "Tang Hao is the great Clear Sky Douluo—noble, proud. I've had no quarrel with him. Why would a man like that stoop to strike at me?"
His eyes gleamed, thoughtful. "Someone must have poisoned his ear. Whispered lies. Fueled the fire."
He took a step closer. "Tang San? No. That boy would never involve his father. He wants to surpass me with his own strength. It wouldn't be him."
He tilted his head. "Which leaves... you. Isn't that right, Master?"
Yu Xiaogang's face was drained of color. His mouth worked soundlessly, as if his words had evaporated with his breath. How could a child—only six years old—speak with such clarity, such terrifying logic?
"You—you have no proof!" he blurted, clinging to the last frayed threads of defense.
Qian Yu chuckled softly. The kind of laugh that made the air feel colder. "Oh, Master. I think you misunderstand your position."
He leaned in slightly, voice a whisper laced with thorns. "I don't need proof. Your life, your death—they rest in my hands. If I say you're guilty... then you are."
He stepped back, hands still calmly at his sides. "And if, by chance, you weren't? Well, too bad. I've already decided."
Yu's chest tightened with a suffocating fear. He could feel it now—Qian Yu's presence, not just as a boy, but as something... else. Something deeper. Older. A force of nature wearing a child's skin.
He trembled, sweat dripping freely down his face. His mind raced, desperate. "W-We're at Nuoding Academy," he warned, voice shrill. "If you touch me, I'll scream. Everyone will hear! You'll be expelled!"
Qian Yu blinked once. Then I laughed.
A soft, almost musical sound. "Scream, then," he said.
You didn't hesitate. He lay flat and howled at the sky. "Help! Murder! Qian Yu is trying to kill me! Someone—!"
But no answer came.
Only silence.
His voice echoed off invisible walls and faded into nothing.
His eyes darted wildly. "W-What did you do?" he gasped.
Qian Yu smiled. "Sound travels through air, you see. And I've sealed this space with a wind barrier. A little trick."
He leaned in again, voice like velvet and ice. "So scream all you like. No one will hear. And no one will come."
Yu's courage shattered like glass. He scrambled backward, hands dragging across the ground. "W-What are you... Who are you?"
"No," he croaked, pointing. "You're not a person. You're a monster!"
Qian Yu didn't flinch. "You're right," he said simply. "I am a demon."
Then, almost cheerfully, "And it's time for your punishment. But... what should I do with you?"
He tapped his chin in mock thought. "Kill you? No, that's too quick. No fun at all."
He grinned. "Maybe chop off your arms and legs, turn you into a little meat puppet? No... you'd still bleed out."
His eyes sparkled with mischief. "How about I... neuter you?"
Yu Xiaogang's scream of protest was cut off by a sudden gust of wind.
A blade of air, sharp as a scalpel, whistled through the space—and struck.
Blood sprayed. Yu's eyes rolled back. He shrieked in pain and terror—and then, mercifully, passed out cold.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Qian Yu wrinkled his nose and stepped back. "Really, now. Wetting yourself? That's just pathetic."
He sighed. "And I was just starting to enjoy myself."
He turned away, his voice fading into the dusk. "I'll spare you this time. I'd hate to waste all my good ideas in just one session. We'll have more fun... later."
Then he glanced toward the treeline. His tone shifted, sharp but composed. "You've been watching long enough. Care to join us?"
He stared straight toward a hidden thicket—where Qian Daoliu, unseen until now, had been quietly observing.
The wind stirred. The leaves rustled like whispers.
And the game, it seemed, was far from over.
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