The clang of iron rang through the halls as the guards shoved Jin into the cell. The door groaned shut with finality, and the heavy bar slid into place.
For the first time since their journey began, Jin and Ruan were separated.
The dim torchlight flickered against the damp stone walls. Dust drifted in the air. The smell of earth, iron, and stale water filled the space. Jin tilted his head lazily, staring at the shadows cast by the bars.
The guards lingered for a moment outside, arms folded, sneering at him. Jin looked at them, eyes narrowing for a brief instant—sharp, serious, piercing.
"If that girl," he said, voice low and cold, "is injured in any way… the next thing you'll see will be the sky."
The words carried no trace of his usual playfulness. The guards stiffened despite themselves. Something in his tone made their spines itch. Without a reply, they turned and walked away.
And then, the silence settled.
Jin leaned back against the wall, the shadows swallowing half his face. His mask—his smile, his goofy tilt of the head, his casual demeanor—slid away. What remained was a man with clenched fists and furrowed brows.
Thoughts in the Dark
"Pathetic…" he muttered to himself.
Trusting Shen? Relying on that lord Bi'ān? Was he really that desperate?
He pressed his knuckles against his forehead, sighing. "No, not desperate. Just lazy. I wanted to drift… to laugh… to not care. And this is where it's gotten me. Ruan in danger."
The thought burned like fire in his chest. He had dragged her into this. A child. One who should be free to pursue what she wanted, not chained by the arrogance of so-called leaders.
He hated it.
Hated this creeping feeling—the fragments of himself returning. The coldness. The seriousness. The part of him that planned and calculated. The part that distrusted. The part that would burn bridges rather than risk betrayal.
It was easier to be clueless. Easier to laugh. Easier to be the fool.
"…But am I afraid?" he asked himself quietly. "Afraid of what I'll remember?"
A few months ago, he would've clawed for every shred of his memories. But now, as pieces of his personality returned, he wasn't so sure. If this was the man he truly was—serious, distrustful, burdened—then what kind of memories had shaped him?
The answer didn't feel pleasant.
He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "No matter. For now… I'll play along. For her sake."
Images of Ruan's bright eyes, her stubborn courage, her fascination with martial arts surfaced in his mind. A small smile tugged at his lips, not his mask of jest but something gentler.
"She deserves to keep chasing that dream," he whispered. "Even if I don't get it. Martial arts… a whole continent built on fists and blades. What's so special about it? What's so different from just living?"
The silence didn't answer.
Hours Later
The torches had burned low when footsteps echoed down the hall. Jin's eyes snapped open. His serious gaze flickered briefly—until the figure came into view.
It was Shen.
Immediately, Jin's entire expression shifted. He sat up dramatically, puffed his cheeks, and pointed at the bars.
"You traitor!" he declared, pouting like a child denied candy. "You let them throw me in a cell! Me! The handsome, innocent hero of this land! How dare you!"
Shen stopped, blinking. Every time, every single time, this man caught him off guard. One moment he was threatening generals with terrifying calm, the next he was whining like a street performer.
"You…" Shen pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't understand you. At all."
"Of course you don't!" Jin snapped, crossing his arms. "I'm far too complex for your tiny brain. Look at this place! Cold! Damp! Do you know what this does to my hair?" He shook his head wildly, strands flopping everywhere.
Despite himself, Shen let out a small laugh. "You don't act like someone who's about to fight for his life in four days."
"Four days?" Jin leaned forward, pressing his face against the bars. "Tell me, what's the grand plan? A duel with the Clan Leader himself? A wrestling match with a bear? Or maybe I have to sing until everyone faints?"
Shen sighed, leaning closer. "It's not clear. That's the danger. You and Ruan may fight together… or apart. You may face multiple opponents… or a single master. The court wants entertainment, not fairness."
For a brief moment, Jin's face lost its jest. His eyes sharpened. "So they'll try to break us."
"…Yes."
And then Jin chuckled. Slowly at first, then louder, until he threw his head back, laughing against the cell wall.
"Perfect!"
Shen recoiled. "Perfect?!"
Jin grinned wide, eyes gleaming. "Do you know how frustrating it is to hold back? To act like a bumbling fool when all you want to do is swing your fists around? Hah! Finally, a chance to stretch!"
Shen frowned. "You really don't take this seriously, do you?"
"Oh, I do." Jin immediately made a solemn face, staring at Shen with mock gravity. "Look at this seriousness. The most serious face you'll ever see." He held it for two seconds before bursting out laughing again.
Shen groaned. "You're impossible."
Jin smirked, though the gleam in his eye betrayed something deeper. Yes, this was bad. Yes, it was dangerous. But he wasn't going to let this stop him. Not now. Not ever.
"When I find this so-called Martial King," Jin muttered, almost to himself, "I'll give him a beating he'll never forget… then toss his crown on the ground. Why should someone like me—someone with no interest in this fist-worshipping nonsense—be king of it?"
Shen's eyes widened slightly. "...King of Martial Arts?"
Jin smiled at him, mischievous but cryptic. "Don't worry about it. You wouldn't get it."
And with that, Jin leaned back against the wall, humming tunelessly as though nothing in the world bothered him. But Shen could not forget the brief, sharp seriousness he had glimpsed in the man's eyes.