Part C – Aftermath in the Square
The echoes of Garruk's final scream faded, but the square did not return to normal.
It was as if the very stones themselves had absorbed the sound, carrying it in deep, silent vibrations. The crowd stood frozen, hearts hammering in chests, eyes wide and unblinking.
Some were pale with fear. Some were flushed with exhilaration. All were silent, caught in the shadow of something impossible.
Gu Kuangren did not move at first. He stood over Garruk's shattered form, chest heaving, crimson eyes blazing. The spikes of the iron mace still protruded from the man's twisted thigh, slick with black-and-red blood. Kuangren's hand reached down, not to finish him — Garruk was beyond mercy — but to grasp the weapon.
The crowd flinched collectively.
Slowly, deliberately, Kuangren withdrew the mace. He wiped it on Garruk's shredded tunic, the motion almost casual. He didn't speak. He didn't smile. But the sheer calmness of his body, even after the slaughter, was more terrifying than the fight itself.
The square felt smaller, the air thicker.
Whispers erupted like wildfire.
"They… he… he's not human…" one man stammered, stepping back as his coin pouch rattled on the stones.
"No one survives that!" a woman cried, clutching her meager bread to her chest. "Not Garruk! Not him!"
"He killed Garruk… and smiled…" another murmured, pale-faced.
Even the seasoned killers in the crowd exchanged nervous glances. Some shifted their weight, unsheathing knives and gripping spears instinctively. Not because they expected to challenge Kuangren — no one dared — but because instinct demanded they prepare for a predator.
Zhu Zhuqing, crouched above on the crumbling rooftop, let out a quiet breath. She had seen death before. She had executed it herself. But what she had just witnessed… this was on a different plane entirely.
Kuangren didn't just kill. He enjoyed it. He thrived on it. Every strike, every crack of bone, every gush of blood was a symphony he conducted alone.
And yet, the madness was precise. Controlled.
Her golden eyes narrowed. He's… perfect at it.
Kuangren crouched, examining Garruk's broken body. Crimson eyes swept over each battered limb, over the twisted face, over the blood that pooled thickly on the stones.
He spoke, softly, almost to himself:
"Pain is honest. Fear is honest. Death is… inevitable."
He straightened slowly, taking a deep breath, and for the first time looked directly at the crowd. His gaze pierced through them, challenging them to speak, to move, to do anything.
No one did.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he turned back to Garruk. His hand found the man's shoulder, pushing him gently to the side. It was almost reverent — a predator acknowledging the end of a worthy opponent.
Then he stepped over him and walked from the square.
The crowd followed, silent, not from respect, but from terror.
From the shadows, whispers began again, spreading like a virus.
"The crimson-eyed giant walks among us…""Not even Garruk could touch him…""He is… something else…""Madness… and glory… all in one…"
Even the barkeep who had been hiding in a doorway, hands shaking, whispered under his breath:
"Slaughter City… has a new master."
Zhu Zhuqing remained where she was, watching. Her body tense, claws digging into the stone beneath her. Her heart beat fast, not from fear, but from fascination.
She knew one truth in that moment:
Gu Kuangren was not just a killer.
He was a force.
And she was drawn to it, whether she wanted to be or not.
The square slowly emptied as the crowd dispersed, whispers following them down the alleys. Garruk's body remained in the center, a grim monument to the crimson-eyed giant's power. A few brave or foolish souls approached to look closer, only to recoil in horror, the stench of blood and iron making them gag.
Kuangren's laughter echoed softly from the far end of the alley, a sound that promised both pleasure and terror in equal measure.
Above, Zhu Zhuqing's golden eyes glinted with a mixture of fear, intrigue, and something else she hadn't admitted to herself yet — a pull she could not resist.
And as the last echoes faded, the city itself seemed to whisper his name:
"Gu Kuangren… the Crimson Shadow…"