Wei saw the knife on the ground.
In that instant, his body moved faster than thought.
He lunged forward. His shoulder hit the ground, and he rolled, throwing his entire weight down on the blade like a falling stone. The cold steel was pinned fast between his stomach and the stone floor.
He knew it clearly—
His body ached, his strength scattered. Even if he got the knife in hand, he might not be able to land a proper strike.
But if the blade fell into the other man's hands, he wouldn't even get the chance to struggle.
So there was only one choice.
If he couldn't use it, he would make sure no one else could.
Their bodies tangled instantly, two mad dogs fighting over a blood-soaked bone in the mud.
Shoulder slammed into shoulder. Knees drove into ribs. Bone ground against bone with dull thuds. Wei's back scraped across the stone, leaving a smear of blood. Every roll felt like sandpaper dragged across his flesh. Pebbles bit into his skin; blood welled out at once, only to be swallowed by mud and water until its color disappeared.
Qishan stood to the side, watching with obvious enjoyment.
The corner of his mouth slowly lifted.
"Good. Just like that."
He clapped his hands lightly, as though watching a performance.
"Hurry now."
His voice stretched lazily.
"The incense is almost burned out."
In the corner of the stone chamber, the stick of incense had already burned past the halfway mark.
A thin ribbon of smoke curled upward. The ash drooped and bent, like a brittle twig ready to snap.
The old woodcutter was sweating heavily now.
Sweat streamed down his temples and dripped to the floor. His breathing grew rougher, his fists striking harder. Each blow landed with brute force against Wei's back and shoulders.
But Wei curled himself tighter.
He pulled his knees in, arched his back, and locked both arms over his head. His whole body pressed down on the knife like a stubborn boulder.
No matter how the fists rained down, he refused to shift even half an inch.
The old woodcutter's anger slowly boiled over.
Then his eyes flashed.
In the corner of the chamber lay a stone the size of a man's head.
Panting, the woodcutter walked over and bent to lift it.
The rock was heavy. He strained to haul it up, back and waist tightening before he could cradle it against his chest.
Then he slowly turned around.
There was no hesitation left in his eyes. Only killing intent.
Wei stared at the stone. His throat bobbed.
A thin thread of despair rose quietly from his chest.
If that rock came down—
his skull would shatter on the spot.
The blow would be no less deadly than a blade.
The stone's edges were sharp, still clotted with damp soil and fine sand.
Veins bulged along the woodcutter's arms as his fingers gripped it tightly. Deliberately, he angled the sharpest edge outward, aiming it at Wei's head.
Then he began to walk forward.
Step by step.
Each footfall landed heavily against the floor.
The incense had only a short stub left.
But that was enough.
Enough to kill Wei.
The glowing tip burned a dim red. The rising thread of smoke grew thinner and shorter, like a string ready to snap.
"Hurry up—"
Qishan leaned against the wall, smiling lazily.
"If you go any slower…"
He narrowed his eyes, watching the two men.
"Neither of you will have a choice left."
The woodcutter's teeth ground together.
The next instant—
he raised the stone high.
And at that very moment—
Wei lifted his head.
He didn't dodge.
He didn't block.
He didn't even reach for the knife.
He only stared at Qishan.
His throat was thick with the taste of blood. Each breath scraped out of him like gravel dragged across stone. His voice was hoarse, barely human, yet the words still forced their way out.
"If I die…"
The woodcutter's raised arms froze.
Qishan's brow lifted slightly.
Wei's chest heaved once.
"Chun… will kill you."
The words fell, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
It splattered across the stone floor.
The air inside the cave seemed to tighten, as though an invisible hand had clenched it.
The torch suddenly crackled.
For the briefest instant, the smile on Qishan's face stiffened.
It was subtle.
Very brief.
But Wei saw it.
He had won half the gamble.
Wei stretched out a blood-smeared finger and quickly began writing on the ground.
The damp stone took the blood clearly.
"She won't kill you today."
"Nor tomorrow."
Wei stared at him.
"She'll wait."
"She'll wait until the moment you're most proud of yourself."
The woodcutter stood there, the stone still raised in the air.
He looked first at Qishan, then at the bloody words on the ground.
Finally, his eyes locked onto Qishan's face.
Qishan's smile slowly faded.
His gaze darkened.
As if he were thinking.
Wei watched him.
Strangely, his own heart began to steady.
He kept writing.
His finger moved rapidly across the stone.
"You know who she is."
"You know her nature."
"And you know very well…"
"what she will do."
"Don't you?"
The incense ash suddenly snapped and fell.
The final ember flickered softly.
Just like Wei's heart in that moment—
uneasy,
tight,
ready to go out at any second.
Qishan suddenly laughed.
The smile twisted into something savage.
"She'll never know what happened here today."
Wei clenched his teeth.
He decided to keep gambling.
"So many people saw us come in…"
he wrote on the ground.
"You can't possibly hide—"
He hadn't finished the words.
Qishan cut him off with a cold laugh.
"I don't care."
His voice lowered slowly.
"Everyone—I can kill them all."
"As for my own men…"
Qishan tilted his chin.
"They won't say a single extra word."
Wei's heart dropped.
In that instant,
he truly felt despair.
Qishan clearly enjoyed the expression.
He slowly crouched down.
His hand slipped into Wei's coat
and pulled out the war blade.
The sheath slid free with a faint rasp.
Unhurriedly, Qishan drew the blade.
"Zheng—"
Steel flashed in the firelight, a thin line of cold brilliance.
Sharp as a thread of ice.
Qishan narrowed his eyes, admiring it.
He seemed quite pleased.
Then he casually tossed the knife toward the woodcutter.
"Old Woodcutter."
His tone carried a trace of laziness.
"What he said annoyed me."
"This knife—"
"It's yours."
Qishan turned and looked at him.
The woodcutter froze for a moment.
Then his face split into wild delight.
He tossed aside the stone and quickly bent down, catching the blade with both hands.
The gesture was almost reverent.
"Yes, sir!"
And just then—
"Wait."
A voice suddenly rang through the cave.
It wasn't loud.
But everyone stopped.
It was Minnow.
The nearly invisible man who had been shrinking in the corner.
For the first time, he spoke on his own.
He slowly straightened.
His chest lifted.
"I want to see your new king."
He paused.
His voice grew clearer.
"No."
"We want to see the new king."
Qishan blinked, startled.
He looked up in confusion.
"What?"
"What did you say?"
Minnow's back was straight.
He seemed like a completely different person now.
"Tell your new king—
I've come to collect what he owes me."
Qishan narrowed his eyes.
"You?"
"…Just who are you?"