The alley swallowed them like a throat. Damp air clung to their skin, thick with rot and piss. Rats darted between broken crates and waste heaps. Water—if it could still be called that—dripped from gutters and streaked dark lines down the walls. Somewhere, something hissed.
Yu Jin walked ahead, spear in hand. Behind him, Yue Jin followed, silent but ready. Their footfalls splashed against filth-slick stone.
People lined the alley edges. Ragged, sunken-eyed husks of men and women lay in heaps, bodies half-submerged in trash. None looked up. Two armed youths in this part of Jingpeng meant nothing. Gangs passed through all the time. Death came often enough that no one blinked.
But Yu Jin's eyes were sharp. Focused. Measured. He wasn't passing through.
They pushed deeper.
Finally, at the end of the alley, beneath a makeshift lean-to of rotting cloth and bent wood, Meng Shun held court.
He sat atop a pile of refuse, broken crates and stained cushions stacked like a throne. His arms dangled lazily. Beneath his feet, a boy—no older than eight—lay bloodied, ribs barely rising. Meng Shun's heel rested on the child's back like a stool. And he laughed.
It was a deep, phlegmy sound. Cruel. The kind of laugh that invited suffering.
Eight men lounged around him. Dice clattered against a flat board. One was carving a bit of bone. Another smoked something foul.
Yu Jin approached casually. Not slow, not fast. Just steady.
One of the lieutenants looked up.
"Hey! Who the hell—"
His voice cracked off as Yue Jin stepped past Yu Jin and slammed his training sword against the man's skull. The blow echoed. The thug dropped instantly, collapsing into the mud.
Yue Jin didn't blink. "Let the bosses speak."
The other seven stood. Dice forgotten. Blades slid free.
The laughter stopped.
Meng Shun's gaze finally lifted. One eye was milk-white. A knife scar ran from cheek to lip. His voice was rough, dry.
"You looking to die, boy?"
Yu Jin stepped over the unconscious body, unbothered.
"Meng Shun?"
The gang leader grinned. "Depends. Who's asking?"
Yu Jin's spear tapped once against the ground.
Then he moved.
The first blow was a blur — the butt of his spear cracked into the nape of a thug's neck. The man collapsed before a cry could escape.
The second was louder. A horizontal swing struck another in the chest, slamming him hard into the alley wall with a thud that echoed.
Yu Jin didn't wait.
He flowed.
In tight quarters, the spear was a challenge — but it was also control. His reach let him control space, angles. They couldn't rush him all at once.
Three knives flashed toward him. Yu Jin ducked the first, sidestepped the second, and slapped the third aside with the shaft of his spear.
He moved like water — redirecting, gliding, punishing.
With distance regained, he raised the spear to chin height and sank into a low stance.
One step forward. Two jabs. A shoulder, a knee.
Another lunged — Yu Jin turned and drove the spearhead straight into the man's throat.
He gasped. The others backed up, now raising arms to guard their heads.
Yu Jin saw it instantly.
They protected high. Left themselves wide open.
He struck low — the tip of the spear shot forward like lightning, crushing directly into a thug's groin.
The man folded, eyes bulging, breath gone.
Yu Jin didn't stop. He planted a foot on the doubled-over body and used it as a springboard, bounding up the alley wall with a burst of speed.
Momentum shifted. He twisted midair, came down hard, and swept the spear across a lieutenant's skull.
Crack.
The man dropped.
And Yu Jin stood in the wreckage of five men — breathing steady, stance perfect, eyes locked on the next target.
Yue Jin, watching from behind, felt the world pause. He had struggled to bring down four—yet Yu Jin carved through seven armed thugs like it was nothing. For a moment, he didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Then a blur passed him — one of the gang members fleeing in panic.
"Shit," Yue Jin hissed, snapping out of it. He bolted to chase, only to stop short.
Right — the alley entrance was sealed. The recruits would handle it.
He turned back, heart still racing, and caught sight of Yu Jin cleaving through the last of the lieutenants.
He whispered, "...but am I even needed here?"
At the far end, Meng Shun was no longer lounging. He stood now, hunched slightly, cleaver in hand, trembling. The bruised child he had used as a footrest was wide-eyed and frozen.
Meng Shun's eyes darted. He held out a hand, smiling, lips twitching. "H-Hold on now. Let's talk—"
He lunged, snatching the boy, dragging him upright, pressing the blade to the child's throat.
"Move, and the kid won't have a head," he growled, trying to sound confident, but his voice cracked.
Yu Jin didn't even blink.
The spear cracked out — lightning fast — slamming into Meng Shun's nose. Blood burst, his body reeled, eyes tearing.
The boy stumbled free. Yu Jin caught him by the collar and tossed him toward Yue Jin without looking.
Meng Shun fell back, clutching his face. "You bastard—!"
He froze.
Yu Jin's face was no longer calm. It was a storm.
His jaw clenched. A scowl deepened. The heat in his gaze could melt stone.
No words came. Yu Jin said nothing. Not to filth.
He advanced.
And Meng Shun received his judgment — not in one blow, but many. Yu Jin struck high, low, side to side. Each hit designed to hurt, to break, to shatter pride and body alike. Pain bloomed in waves.
Meng Shun's screams turned to sobs. "I give up! Gods, please—"
Yu Jin stood over him. The spear rested. His boot did not.
The final strike was a brutal kick to the face.
And Meng Shun collapsed, bloodied and broken.
Unconscious.
Silenced.
Yue Jin finally approached, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. "You... really tore through them. That was insane."
Yu Jin didn't answer. His gaze remained locked on Meng Shun lying in his own filth, blood mixing with piss and grime.
"Did you go too far?" Yue Jin asked. "I mean, aren't we supposed to be recruiting?"
Yu Jin scoffed. "I was never going to recruit this scum. Death is what he deserves—but we'll hand him over to the authorities for now. We'll take his followers instead."
Yue Jin nodded in affirmation, then motioned toward the boy now standing just behind Yu Jin, eyes wide, awe in every feature.
"What about the kid?"
Yu Jin turned. His face, still hard from battle, softened slightly. He realized he must look like a monster to a child—blood-splattered and cold.
He crouched, bringing himself to eye level with the boy. Tearing a strip from his sleeve, he gently wiped the blood and dirt from the boy's face.
"What's your name?"
The boy hesitated, then whispered, "Bao."
"Do you have any family, Bao?"
He shook his head.
Yu Jin glanced briefly at his warband quest. Twenty men. Bao looked far too young to fight, but something in the boy's gaze struck him.
"Would you like to come with me? Learn to be strong?"
The boy's expression lit up. He nodded.
Yu Jin stood and extended his hand. Bao took it.
Together, they walked out of the alley. Yue Jin followed, bruised and bloody, but grinning.
Behind them, the first victory of Yu Jin's new life lay quiet and broken.
"Now," Yu Jin said, eyes ahead, "let's go check on the new recruits."