The air was thick with the smell of rot and wet ash.
Victory had come to the Kan Ki Army — savage and absolute. Tens of thousands of Zhao soldiers knelt in silence, hands bound, eyes hollow. They were waiting for judgment. Or perhaps execution.
The Gu Ren Tai stood on the ridge, watching in silence. Though they had arrived too late to fight, their eyes were fixed on the aftermath, the unsettling precision of Kan Ki's cruelty.
Ren stood apart from his men. Below, chaos smoldered in stillness.
Then came the voice.
"Didn't think I'd see you here again… Ren."
Ren turned.
Kan Ki, draped in a dark coat stained with ash and blood, strolled up the slope as though the world below were nothing but a stage he'd grown bored of. His eyes were hooded — not cold like ice, but sharp like broken glass.
Ren didn't move. "It's been a while."
Kan Ki gave a toothy grin. "You clean up nice. Not many of us make it out of that pit without losing a few pieces."
Ren met his gaze. "You lost more than a few."
Kan Ki laughed — low, amused. "Probably true."
They stood in silence a moment. Behind them, the screams of Zhao prisoners being herded toward holding pits echoed faintly.
Kan Ki's grin faded. "You watching them? Hoping I'll show mercy?"
Ren glanced back. "No. I know you won't."
Kan Ki chuckled again, dark and dry. "Good. Would've thought you went soft if you asked."
Ren folded his arms. "Why go this far? You already won."
Kan Ki leaned in just slightly, voice lowering. "You know why."
He gestured toward the fields.
"They sent every damn man they had to crush us. Ko Chou, Ka Man, all of them. You think if we'd lost, they'd have spared even a dog wearing Qin colors?"
Ren didn't argue.
Kan Ki's eyes glinted. "I don't do this because I like killing, Ren. I do it because fear spreads faster than fire. And once they're afraid, the rest fall like wheat in the wind."
Ren looked at him steadily. "You were different once."
Kan Ki gave a long, eerie smile. "No. I just didn't have the army to do it properly."
They stared at one another, two remnants of a world that raised killers.
"…You still see yourself as a bandit?" Ren asked.
Kan Ki shrugged. "I am a bandit. Just one with banners and soldiers now. The only difference is the scale."
Ren's gaze sharpened. "Then what about your men? Do they follow you out of loyalty… or fear?"
Kan Ki's expression tightened, and something flickered in his eyes — not anger, but interest.
"They follow because they know I'll do what it takes to win. No gods, no glory, no rules. Just survival."
He stepped closer, just enough for his voice to turn quiet and dangerous.
"You, though… I remember you in the old days. Smart. Cunning. But you always hesitated. You still do."
Ren didn't flinch. "I don't call that hesitation. I call it control."
Kan Ki's grin widened. "Cute. We both crawled out of the same gutter, Ren. Only difference is, I kept walking. You stopped when it got too dark."
"Maybe," Ren replied calmly. "Or maybe I just remembered I was still human."
That earned a chuckle. "Human, huh? That'll be the death of you."
Ren's voice lowered. "Maybe. But at least I'll die without becoming what we used to hate."
Another pause. The wind rolled through the grass.
Kan Ki stepped back, pipe in hand, smirking again — but this time, there was something almost… nostalgic in it.
"You haven't changed much," he said. "Still got that stubborn streak."
Ren glanced at the prisoners again. "You've changed too much."
Kan Ki turned, starting down the slope.
"We're just different kinds of wolves, Ren. Don't pretend you're not one of us."
Ren watched him disappear into the smoky fog.
He didn't deny it.
But as the wind howled across the field of bound men, Ren silently swore:
If Kan Ki was the wolf who devoured everything… then he'd be the one who stood between him and the flock.