Night descended over Jinhai like a jeweled blade — glittering on the surface, razor-edged beneath.
At the heart of the city, the Crimson Pavilion blazed with light. Perched atop the highest ridge of the entertainment district, the hotel's grand ballroom had been transformed into a sea of crimson silk and crystal chandeliers. Music drifted through the air, a lilting waltz for the powerful and the pretentious. Laughter chimed like glass; cameras flashed like lightning.
Shen Manning glided through the chandelier-lit hall, her heels clicking softly against polished marble. She wore a gown of ink-black silk that rippled with every step — understated, elegant, and deliberately so. All around her, the ballroom of the Crimson Pavilion Gala shimmered with noise and color, a theater of ambition dressed as celebration.
She smiled for the cameras, inclined her head when someone greeted her, but her eyes — sharp and cool — missed nothing.
The Gu and Feng families had planted themselves near the front, laughing too loudly, drinking too fast. The patriarchs preened as if they already belonged among the capital's elite, while their wives adjusted jewelry that still looked too new. And that girl — what was even her name?— fluttered about in gold silk, greeting guests as though she owned the place. A nobody polished to shine like a counterfeit gem.
Manning's lips curved faintly, amusement edging her disdain. These poor fools. They think the Crimson Pavilion is about the wine and the waltzes…
She knew better. She was part of the Shen family in the capital. Although not among the top families like the Mo, Chen, and Chu families, her Shen family did enjoy a lot of power and wealth. So she knew, the Gala above was only the surface — the glittering mask. Beneath it, through hidden doors and coded elevators, the Dragon Gate Arena stirred like a living beast. The underworld's most secret tournament would open tonight, right under their feet.
This was the first time the Dragaon Gate Arena or indeed the Crimson Pavilion Gala had been held in a small city like Jinhai. Usually, as the power center for most of the capital's elite, these two events were held only in major cities in the country. The family heads would place bets on the underground battles and depending on who won, they could either make a lot of money and lead their family to new heights, or lose a lot of money and reach new lows. The Chen and Su families were the perfect examples. A middle level family until the last decade, the Chen suddenly shot to power after a Dragon Gate Championship 15 years ago and became among the top four families in the capital. In that same Championship, the Su family suffered major losses and went from the top few families to the lowest among second tier families in the capital.
Although Manning didn't know what or how the Su family lost, and what the Chen family bet on, it was clear that these results were tied to the Dragon Gate Championship. Since then, the Chen family had continued to hold power in the capital because its dominance in Dragon Gate arena and even rivaled the Chu and Mo families in might.
Manning was not truly interested in the Dragon Gate Championship nor had not been invited to that level. No one from the "surface" world was, save for a handful of sponsors and power brokers. Even with her fame, the darling of the entertainment industry, the princess of the Shen family, her access ended at the ballroom.
Her eyes flicked toward the far side of the hall. In fact, even the Crimson Pavilion Gala in this little city of Jinhai was beneath her. She was here only for one reason – for the rumor that he would appear.
Mo Shenyu.
Her pulse tightened just saying the name in her mind. He was her idol and, if she were honest, her muse. His incredibly handsome visage, along with the power he commanded as the Mo family's heir made him her obsession. Although they were about the same age, she had never truly grown up with him; only watched him from afar and coveted. She had made every effort to be worthy of the position as his wife. Not only was she the only princess of the top families in the capital, she was also the prominent star in the entertainment industry, the 'nation's true love'. Now, amidst her busy schedule, she had flown all the way over to this little city just hoping to catch a glimpse of him or maybe even exchange a word or two.
Shen Manning raised her glass, golden light catching the rim, her reflection shimmering like a flame — beautiful, untouchable, and waiting for the one man who could make her world tilt.
Beneath the glittering ballroom of the Crimson Pavilion, the hero Shen Manning had been waiting for had already arrived. Mo Shenyu stepped out of the underground elevator, his black suit was like an armor; the sharp lines of the fabric emphasizing the restraint in his frame. Assistant Liang followed half a pace behind, tense, already sweating beneath the collar.
"Sir, do we need to go upstairs?" he murmured.
"No need. Nothing is more important. Are the Mo guards in place?"
"Yes, sir. All our shadow guards are in place. We have planned for all contingencies like you said"
Mo Shenyu did not reply.
From where he stood on the mezzanine The Dragon Gate Arena spread out around him like a vast subterranean coliseum — circular, tiered, and alive with motion. From the ceiling hung glowing rings of crimson halite lamps, their light flickering-like veins of molten fire. Every inch of the architecture screamed power: carved dragon pillars coiled upward, their stone scales glinting; obsidian floors reflected both the crowd and the carnage.
In the center lay the stage — a circular pit encased by reinforced glass, surrounded by rows upon rows of tiered seats. Each tier was separated by rank — the lowest rows for local syndicates and mid-tier families, the highest reserved for the old bloodlines: Mo, Chu, and the hidden aristocracies that quietly ruled the nation.
There were no paper tickets here, no cheering crowds like in sports arenas. Only coded invitations and whispers — a clientele that arrived in silence and spoke in wagers.
Mo Shenyu's eyes quickly scanned the tiers—the local crime lords in the lower ring, regional syndicates in the middle, and on the highest balcony, the old bloodlines pretending to sip champagne while they bet on life and death. He recognized faces—some he'd done business with, others he'd buried through intermediaries.
Suddenly in the middle of the lowest tier, his eyes came to an abrupt halt. They did not belong there!
"Asst. Liang. Check out the lowest tiers in the 8'0 clock direction. Find out why they are there. Also, ask around about the White Crane sect. What have they been up to recently"
"The White Crane Sect? Sir, they are secretive and reclusive…"
"Find Dr.Chu and get some leads from him. If I have to tell you more, you don't need to report again tomorrow"
"Done sir!" Asst. Liang almost saluted and bolted out of the Mo family's box. Their president was unusually touchy today. Sigh. Anything related to the missing girl kept him on hair trigger. If nothing else, for their subordinates' wellbeing alone their boss should find the girl soon.
In the shadows of the second tier, Chen Yutian leaned forward, his eyes sharp and gleaming. His assistant bent close."Sir, the Mo heir's men have arrived.""I see them," Yutian murmured, lips curving faintly. "Right on schedule. Once the fights begin, all eyes will be on the ring. The moment he intervenes… we strike."
A soft voice echoed from the arena's circular speaker system — the Gatekeeper, as the unseen host was called.
"Welcome, esteemed guests of the Pavilion. Tonight's battles mark the first tier of the Dragon Gate Championship. Rules remain the same — no weapons, no interference, no mercy. Step beyond the gate, and your life belongs to the match."
Beneath that honeyed tone, the floor thrummed with machinery — the hydraulics preparing for the first match. Metal shutters rolled open on the far side, revealing a long, dark corridor that led into the pit. Steam hissed upward like the breath of a dragon waking.
Up above, through cleverly hidden slits in the ceiling, faint vibrations from the ballroom filtered down — the waltz rhythm, the laughter, the faint ring of champagne glasses. The music of the elite mingled eerily with the bloodthirsty anticipation below.
Further down, syndicate heads whispered in clusters — cigar smoke thickening the air. Names of fighters passed like currency.
"The Black Viper's been added to the roster.""Impossible, she's a ghost — never fights under her real name.""Tonight, they say she's here. And she is going to fight a newcomer"
"Newcomer? Yes, XL. Did you see the roster? Whoever XL is, they have already caught the Gatekeeper's eye."
A hush rippled through the audience as the first challenger's name flashed across the giant digital screen above the pit:
[Round One: Iron Wolf vs. Red Fox]
The heavy gates rolled open. Two fighters stepped into the light — muscle, steel, and deadly calm.
The arena roared to life.
And somewhere deep in the crowd, a masked woman in a dark blue scarf took her seat. Her eyes gleamed like polished obsidian beneath the hood.
Feng Xueling had arrived.
Xueling leaned back against the cool metal wall, arms crossed. Her mask, the dark silk patterned with a dragon soaring over silver cloud she had found in Haicheng was tied around her face. Only her eyes and the lower half of her face were visible. Her inky hair cascaded around her like a cloud of silk. She watched the arena with dispassionate eyes.
Iron Wolf and Red Fox. She'd seen both names on the roster earlier.
Iron Wolf was a mercenary from the northern borders, built like a mountain, known for crushing opponents with sheer brute strength.
Red Fox was a former street fighter with quick hands and quicker temper, the kind who played dirty and smiled through blood.
The crowd adored them.She could already hear the chants through the speaker system: "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" followed by a scattering of high-pitched cheers for the Fox.
A low mechanical hiss signaled the gate rising. Xueling tilted her head to watch.
The two fighters stepped into the center of the circular pit. Light slashed down from above, cutting through the rising haze. The arena floor was glossy black composite—unforgiving, meant to amplify every strike, every fall.
Iron Wolf cracked his neck, the sound echoing like gunfire. Red Fox smiled and stretched her wrists, her crimson-streaked hair glinting in the light.
The gong sounded.
The first few seconds were chaos.Wolf lunged forward, movements heavy but fast, a blur of muscle and weight. Fox slipped under his arm, spinning on the ball of her foot to strike behind his knee.A clean hit—sharp, controlled.
The crowd screamed.
Wolf grunted but didn't falter. He turned and swung his entire body in a wide arc. The air cracked with the force. Fox dodged—barely. The shockwave from the missed blow rattled the arena's glass panels.
Xueling watched without blinking. Her trained eyes followed every pivot, every misstep.Too broad, she thought. He's telegraphing. Easy to bait.Fox, though nimble, was overconfident. Her moves were showy, leaving gaps she didn't see.
Her fingers twitched unconsciously, tracing invisible patterns in the air—muscle memory of forms she'd mastered long ago.
Wolf roared and charged again.Fox darted sideways, but he feinted and caught her mid-turn, slamming a forearm into her ribs. The sound was sickening. She staggered, gasping, and Wolf grinned—a beast sensing blood.
The crowd went wild.
But as he moved in for the finishing blow, Fox's eyes flashed. With a burst of motion, she twisted low, drove her elbow into his gut, and swept his leg from under him. The mountain fell.
Cheers erupted, a storm of noise and light.
Wolf struggled to rise, but Fox's foot pinned his throat. She tilted her head, smiling for the cameras as the gong struck again.Victory: Red Fox.
The roar of the underground stadium rose through the floors like a living pulse. From his perch on the mezzanine Mo Shenyu watched the match without batting an eye. It had been four long, tedious battles, and the match he had been waiting for was yet to come.
Finally, when his blood was almost boiling with impatience, he gatekeeper's voice boomed over the din of the audience.
"And now for the final match of the day, the match you have all been waiting for: The Black Viper Vs XL"
A hum rippled through the crowd. The Black Viper was a well known fighter, a sure bet! XL was a newbie, who did she piss off to be paired with the most feared fighter in the championship? The crowd craned their necks to take a good look.
Mo Shenyu's fingers tightened into fists and from the corner of his eye he noticed those people from the lower tiers, the senior members of the White Crane sect also leaning forward in their seats.
The ever-efficient Asst. Liang had tried hard to chase Dr.Chu and find out more about the White Crane Sect's presence. But even his diligent tactics had hit a wall. The Chu family and the White Crane sect were both very tightlipped about their presence, they didn't even want to claim their usual spot in the arena for fear of being spotted. That Mo Shenyu had recognized them was sheer luck. He had worked with them on a military operation a few years back and had met these exact senior students in person.
If they chose to interfere, their presence would complicate things.
At that moment, the arena gates opened with a low, mechanical hiss.Two figures emerged from opposite tunnels, walking toward each other across the gleaming alloy floor.
On the left strode Black Viper — a hulking man in tight black leather that stretched over slabs of muscle. His head gleamed under the harsh lights, a full-scalp tattoo of a serpent winding from temple to neck, its fanged mouth frozen in perpetual strike. The same ink coiled down his arms, over corded muscle and scar tissue, each flex making the viper writhe to life. He raised both arms and roared, veins standing out like cables, the crowd answering with a guttural cheer.
And then — silence.
From the opposite end of the pit walked his opponent XL.
A slender figure, graceful yet deliberate, clad in tactical silk that caught the light like running water. No insignia. No clan crest. Her only ornament was a blue silk scarf, patterned with dragons and clouds, veiling part of her face.
The contrast was jarring — the brutal, tattooed brawler and the calm, faceless silhouette that seemed carved from moonlight.Her eyes — dark and steady — glinted once beneath the floodlights. The soft curve of her red lips and porcelain skin stood out even in the grime and smoke of the underground.Her long, ink-black hair slid down her back like silk, brushing her slender waist as she moved.
For a heartbeat, the arena forgot to breathe.
Even the gamblers, hardened to blood and brutality, went still — stunned not by fear, but by the surreal beauty of the woman standing in that pit of chaos.
Mo Shenyu's heart thudded to a halt.
For a moment, the roaring of the arena receded to a low, distant hum. All he could hear was the uneven rhythm of his own breathing. His fingers tightened around the railing until the knuckles whitened. The blood, the lights, the crowd — they all fell away.
He would know that scarf anywhere.
The blue silk, patterned with crimson dragons and rolling clouds — it was burned into his memory like the flash of lightning on that rain-soaked night in Haicheng.
For it was his scarf, the scarf he had lost on that long ago night in Haicheng.
If the scarf was with her, then there was no doubt. XL was the person he was looking for. XL was her.