Chapter Two: Past Events and Diverging Paths

No one knew what had happened. After that day, the domain of demons no longer had an arena for slave fighters, and the servants who had once dwelled there now stood, faces filled with disbelief, before the choices laid out for them.

The servants could choose to leave and seek their own fortunes, or find new patrons to serve. None of the arena’s slaves had ever possessed names—only numbers. But once they left, they could claim names of their own.

He, known then as Black Slave, was no exception. His number was One. After the arena was dismantled, he chose to wander the world alone.

On the day of parting, the little boy he had once saved within that grim place came to see him off. The child, obedient and charming, inspired immediate fondness. Now, with his face cleansed of grime, his features were exquisite.

What Black Slave remembered most was the boy’s smile: dimples faintly creasing both cheeks, his eyes curving like crescent moons, his broad, white teeth bared without a trace of worry. The purity in his smile was the most beautiful thing Black Slave had ever seen.

But now, the moment for farewell had come.

The little boy followed behind in silence until Black Slave finally halted.

“This is far enough,” Black Slave said. “Have you thought about what you’ll do now?”

“Huh?” The boy was startled, clearly not expecting the question.

He lowered his head, sheepishly rubbed his nose, and replied, “Big Brother One, actually, my family has already come for me. My blood is purely demonic; it just took longer to manifest, and someone took advantage of that. But now it’s alright—I can go home.”

Black Slave glanced up at the faint evening glow on the horizon. “I see.”

“Mm.”

“Then live well once you’re home. Don’t run off again,” Black Slave said, waving his hand and striding away.

“Will you come back to see me, Big Brother One?” the boy called out, a hint of unease in his voice.

Black Slave waved a silent farewell and did not answer. Would he return? Perhaps. He did not know himself.

After leaving the arena, life grew more difficult than ever. At least there, they’d been served a few meager meals. Now, out in the world, finding food was a daily uncertainty.

He once fainted from hunger, collapsing outside a shop. When he awoke, he found himself abandoned at a mass grave, two steamed buns left beside him—no doubt a guilty soul’s parting gift, which made him laugh and cry at the same time.

After eating the buns, he wandered on, not knowing how far he’d gone, until he found himself back at a familiar place, surprised to realize he had returned to his starting point.

Suddenly, he felt the urge to see the little boy again, and so, he went.

In the dead of night, Black Slave slipped into the mansion. In less than a quarter of an hour, he found where the boy slept.

The child’s sleeping posture was good, though his brows were knit tightly, as if trapped in a nightmare. Black Slave approached the bedside in silence. The boy’s features had matured, still delicate, but now imbued with the elegance of a young man—no longer so easily mistaken for a girl.

Looking closely, Black Slave realized with a start just how much time had passed since he’d left.

With a sigh and one last glance, he turned to leave. But before he reached the door, a sharp pain stabbed his neck; caught off guard, he was struck unconscious.

The boy, who had smashed a vase over Black Slave, froze when he saw who it was. Then, he smiled strangely. “You’ve finally come back…”

All these years I endured alone—can you bear what I have suffered?

The next morning, Black Slave, now bandaged, pressed his hand to his neck and drew a sharp breath.

The boy entered with a tray of food. Seeing Black Slave sit up, he hurried to help. “Big Brother One, I’m sorry about last night. I thought a thief had broken in—I didn’t expect it to be you.”

“It’s nothing, Hua Shang.”

Hua Shang’s hand paused at the name, and he forced a bitter smile. “So you already know my name?”

Black Slave merely grunted, subtly avoiding Hua Shang’s support as he moved to the table. He had never liked being helped.

Hua Shang’s eyes darkened as he clenched his fists, but then he smiled again and sat opposite Black Slave. “So, what made you decide to come back, Big Brother One?”

Black Slave ate in big mouthfuls, replying between bites, “I wandered back by accident.”

“Are you leaving again?”

“Yes.” Black Slave answered without hesitation.

Hua Shang said nothing further. He stood with a smile, urging Black Slave to rest, and left the room. In that moment, a red gleam flashed in Hua Shang’s eyes.

He did not return that night. Supper was brought by a servant, but Black Slave assumed Hua Shang was busy and thought nothing of it.

After eating, a wave of exhaustion swept over him. He fell into a deep sleep, and when he woke, the scene seemed hauntingly familiar—was this another mass grave?

Regaining his senses and finding his strength mostly intact, Black Slave pressed forward.

Creak… Creak… Creak…

The strange sounds echoed from the distance, growing clearer as he drew near.

Ahead, it looked as though a grave had been unearthed. In the pit crouched a figure, gnawing at something. Black Slave stared in shock—it was Hua Shang!

Hua Shang seemed oblivious to his approach, continuing to devour his meal until the last bone was gone. Only then did he turn and smile. “Oh? You’re awake, Big Brother One!”

His tone and expression were as gleeful as a child about to share a secret.

As he faced Black Slave, his changes became even more apparent: claws sharp as blades, eyes glowing red, fangs protruding, his arched back swelling with monstrous deformity.

“Surprised, Big Brother One?” Hua Shang laughed.

Black Slave nodded, body taut with caution.

At the sight, Hua Shang’s eyes flared redder still. Suddenly, the left side of his face seemed to shatter and fall away, revealing decayed flesh and rotting veins.

He kept laughing—wild, mad laughter. “Well? Do you like what you see?”

Black Slave found no words, uncertain what to say.

Hua Shang laughed until tears spilled down his cheeks. Pointing at Black Slave, he cried, “Because of you—all because of you! Otherwise how could I have ended up like this? This was your sin! Why must I bear the consequences? Why?!”

“Countless nights, I screamed and begged for you to save me. Why didn’t you come? Why?!”

“I hate you, Big Brother One. I hate you so much. After all this time, why did you come back?”

Sobbing like a helpless child, Hua Shang wept as Black Slave silently approached.

The sobs faded. Trembling, Hua Shang seized Black Slave’s robe, voice pleading, “Please, Big Brother One, kill me. Please… will you kill me?”