A cold glint flashed in Mr. Zhou’s eyes as he stepped toward him.
“Do you know who stands before you?” he asked, his voice low but carrying a weight that made the boy flinch.
He pointed toward the three figures seated across the table.
“This is Lord Yu Luomian of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. This is Lord Ning Fengzhi, the Sect Master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan. And this…” he gestured toward the tall man whose gaze was like tempered steel, “…is Lord Gu Rong, the Bone Douluo himself.”
The boy’s defiance faltered, his mouth opening slightly in awe. Even if he didn’t recognize Gu Rong by sight, he had heard the name countless times whispered in the streets. Ning Fengzhi and Yu Luomian were living legends in Heaven Dou City, men whose names even the beggars knew carried power.
Mr. Zhou’s tone softened slightly.
“All you need to do is draw the emblem you showed me earlier. Do that, and these lords will see to it that you have what you want—food, clothing… perhaps even a roof over your head.”
Ning Fengzhi leaned forward slightly, his refined features marked by a warm, reassuring smile.
“Go on, child. No one will harm you here.”
The boy hesitated, biting his lip. Then, slowly, he took the offered brush and a sheet of fine parchment. His small hand trembled at first, but as he dipped the brush into ink, his movements grew steadier, more practiced.
Stroke by stroke, the image began to emerge, a twelve-pointed star radiated from a hooded eye sigil, half-shut. Wisps of ink seemed to bleed beyond the lines, giving the impression that the drawing itself was breathing.
When he lifted the brush at last, the room fell silent.
The emblem of the Twilight Hermit Order sat upon the parchment, so vivid, so disturbingly lifelike, it felt as if it might at any moment slither free from the page.
Even Yu Luomian’s brows furrowed. Ning Fengzhi’s smile had faded, replaced by a look of quiet calculation.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Only the emblem stared back at them… as if it knew they were looking.
Gu Rong’s brows furrowed even deeper, his gaze lingering on the strange emblem. “This… might be the mark of a hidden clan,” he said gravely.
Ning Fengzhi and Yu Luomian exchanged a glance, both faces shadowed by unease. They had seen many emblems in their lifetimes, yet this one exuded a subtle menace, its design was deceptively simple, but something about it gnawed at the mind.
Mr. Zhou, who had been standing silently to the side, did not speak. Yet, a thin sheen of sweat began to bead on his forehead, sliding down the side of his face. His hands, clasped behind his back, tightened ever so slightly.
Before the silence could stretch further, the little boy spoke up timidly. “The girl… the one with this symbol on her token… she wrote something on the ground before leaving.”
Ning Fengzhi softened his expression, just slightly, for the boy. “Show us,” he said gently.
The boy, a resident of the slums, didn’t understand the words he had seen, but he had an excellent memory for shapes and patterns. Crouching down, he took a piece of charcoal and began to draw, his small hands surprisingly steady. The scratching of charcoal against parchment filled the tense room.
When he finished, he stepped back.
Everyone’s eyes fell upon the replicated markings.
The room seemed to grow colder.
" I see you, Ning Fengzhi & Yu Luomian. "
The meaning was simple… far too simple. And yet, that simplicity was what made it so chilling.
The boy blinked in confusion, looking between them. He didn’t understand why the air in the room had suddenly turned so heavy. But everyone else did, except him, he was the only one who didn’t feel the invisible noose tightening.
Gu Rong’s face darkened. Yu Luomian’s lips thinned. Ning Fengzhi’s gentle smile was gone; in its place was an expression as sharp and cold as a drawn blade.
He stepped forward, each movement deliberate, his shadow stretching across the floor until it fell over the boy. “Tell me… are you their spy?”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Spy? No, I—”
Ning Fengzhi cut him off with a soft, almost pitying tone. “Do you think I will believe this was all by chance?” His gaze was like a scalpel, dissecting every twitch of the boy’s face.
Ning Fengzhi’s thoughts churned. ‘A hidden force. Watching us closely enough to know our names. And bold enough to send a message through a child.’
The idea lodged in his mind like a poisoned needle: ‘Our ranks may already be compromised.’
‘I will need to cleanse the clan from the inside,’ he thought coldly. ‘Root out every possible spy, no matter their position.’
And yet, in this storm of suspicion, he ignored one detail entirely, that they had previously been uncovering information about a girl.
In Ning Fengzhi’s eyes, it was the deliberate taunt of a shadowy organisation. And the boy in front of him… was nothing more than a pawn sent to deliver it.
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