The imperial prison stood in the northwest corner of the Imperial City, dark and damp, with the stench of rotting straw and rust hanging in the air.
Every cell was built from bluestone. Moss covered the walls, slick beneath the fingers like the skin of some reptile.
Oil lamps along both sides of the corridor flickered weakly, casting broken shadows across the walls, twisting them into shapes like demons from hell.
Several jailers huddled in a corner, clutching their heads and trembling. None of them dared look up at the young man who had entered through the doorway.
They didn't know who he was or how he had gotten inside, but they knew one thing: he was not someone they could afford to provoke. The black shadow behind him had torn through the imperial prison's bronze gate as though it were made of paper.
Genichi stood before the cell at the deepest end of the prison, staring through the iron bars at the man inside.
That man had once been the Dynasty's strongest warrior, a Martial Saint whose name had shaken the realm, someone capable of splitting a mountain apart with a single sword strike.
Now, he lay curled up on a pile of straw in a filthy white prison robe. His hair was disheveled, his face covered in stubble, and the eyes that had once been as sharp as a hawk's were now dull and lifeless, like glass marbles coated in dust.
The General raised his head and recognized Genichi.
Surprise flashed through his eyes at first, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by an expression of righteous entitlement.
"You're not dead?"
His voice was hoarse, carrying a trace of surprise.
"Forget it. None of that matters. Hurry up and get me out of here. I need to ask Ruyan myself. I refuse to believe she wanted me dead."
He struggled to rise from the straw. The heavy shackles around his wrists and ankles rattled loudly, like chains being dragged by the Grim Reaper.
Every movement was difficult. Each time he shifted, he pulled at the wound in his chest, making his face twist in pain.
Even so, he forced himself upright, straightened his back, and looked down at Genichi with the posture of someone standing above him.
The corner of Genichi's eye twitched.
He stared at the idiot in front of him, overcome by an indescribable sense of absurdity.
That sword strike earlier had pierced straight through Genichi's chest and nearly killed him.
Yet now this man could casually tell him to get him out of prison as though nothing had happened.
Genichi took a deep breath and slowly exhaled the foul air churning inside his chest.
"Did you forget about the sword you put through me?"
His voice was calm, but there were knives hidden in his eyes.
"What makes you think I'd save you?"
The General raised an eyebrow, his haggard face filled with impatience.
"I saved your life. If I hadn't picked you up off the roadside back then, you would've starved to death long ago. Even if I killed you, I would've merely been taking back the life I gave you. Since you didn't die, I won't hold it against you for stopping me from seeing Ruyan."
He spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world, as though Genichi's life had always been his personal property, something he could take whenever he pleased and return whenever he felt like it.
Genichi nearly laughed from sheer anger.
He had met shameless people before, but never anyone this shameless. He had met despicable people before, but never anyone this despicable. He had met idiots before, but never anyone this brain-dead.
A life-saving debt.
What heavy words those were.
Yet coming from the General's mouth, they had become a credit card with an unlimited balance.
If he killed you today, he was simply collecting the debt for saving your life. If he needed you tomorrow, then he was graciously giving you another opportunity to repay him.
No matter what happened, he was right. No matter what he did, he was justified. No matter the situation, he would stand atop the moral high ground and look down upon everyone else.
"Fine."
Genichi's voice was soft, carrying an oddly gentle note.
"Don't you want to see your Ruyan? I'll take you to her. But going to see her like this isn't quite enough. I should make you look a little more miserable, so your precious Ruyan will feel sorry for you."
He raised his foot and kicked the cell door open.
The iron bars bent and snapped beneath his kick like noodles. The shriek of grinding metal echoed through the empty prison. Several jailers were so terrified that they flattened themselves against the floor, hardly daring to breathe.
Before the General could react, Genichi had already entered the cell.
He moved like a streak of black lightning, so fast that his figure was nearly impossible to follow beneath the dim lamplight.
The General reached for the sword at his waist, only to remember that the jailers had taken it long ago. His fingers closed on empty air.
Then he felt it.
A hand clamped around his throat like an iron vise and lifted him completely off the ground.
Genichi's fingers slowly tightened.
The General's face went from pale to red, then from red to purple.
His hands weakly slapped at Genichi's arm while his legs kicked wildly in the air, like a fish hanging from a hook in its final struggle.
He opened his mouth desperately, trying to breathe, but no air entered.
His lungs burned.
His consciousness began to blur.
Genichi released him.
The General crashed to the floor and gasped desperately for air, tears and mucus running together across his face.
Then Genichi crouched down, seized his right wrist, and wrapped his other hand around one of his fingers.
Crack.
His index finger broke.
The General's scream echoed through the cell like a pig being slaughtered, piercing and miserable.
Crack.
His middle finger broke.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
One after another, all ten fingers were crushed. Fragments of bone tore through the skin, blood spraying everywhere as pale bone glistened beneath the dim light.
Every finger was connected to the heart. The pain went beyond flesh. It felt as though it reached straight into his soul.
His entire body convulsed. Veins bulged across his forehead, his eyes widened like bronze bells, and his mouth hung open, yet he could no longer produce a sound.
He was still conscious.
He could clearly feel the instant each bone shattered. He could feel the broken fragments ripping through muscle and skin. He could feel the warmth of blood pouring from his wounds.
Genichi did not stop.
He grabbed the General's right forearm with both hands and twisted as though wringing out a wet towel.
Crack.
The arm broke.
The bone snapped through the middle, shifted out of place, and tore through muscle and skin, exposing a pale, jagged end.
Blood sprayed across Genichi's face.
He didn't wipe it away.
He simply continued.
The left arm received the same treatment.
He grabbed it.
Twisted.
Crack.
Broken.
Then the right leg below the knee.
He bent it hard.
Crack.
Then the left.
Crack.
All four limbs were ruined.
The General lay in a pool of blood, his limbs twisted at grotesque angles like a puppet that had been played with until it broke.
His body convulsed violently. Blood and foam spilled continuously from his mouth, his eyes rolling back as the pain finally drove him unconscious.
Even then, his body continued trembling on instinct.
Genichi rose to his feet and looked down at him.
There was no emotion in his eyes, only calm, almost indifferent scrutiny.
"Good. Now you're a cripple who can't use any of his limbs. When your precious Ruyan sees you like this, I'm sure she'll feel sorry for you."
His voice remained soft, as though he were discussing something completely ordinary.
Then he crouched, grabbed the General by the hair, and dragged him out of the cell like a dead dog.
The General's body scraped across the rough stone floor. His clothes tore apart, his skin was rubbed raw, and a long trail of blood followed behind him, glaringly vivid beneath the dim light.
His body was still twitching, but he could no longer make a sound.
The jailers lay flat along both sides of the corridor, not daring to raise their heads. Their bodies shook uncontrollably.
Genichi dragged the General past them without slowing down, his boots stepping through pools of blood with wet, squelching sounds.
He left the imperial prison, passed through the northwest corner of the Imperial City, and entered the streets of the capital.
Genichi dragged the General through the streets, a winding trail of blood stretching behind them like a twisted snake.
Genichi had no intention of troubling the General's family.
They were ordinary people and had nothing to do with any of this.
He only needed the General's life.
He only needed the life of that precious white moonlight.
Nothing else mattered.
He dragged the General through the streets and alleys of the Imperial Capital until he reached Donghua Gate of the imperial palace.
The guards stationed there saw Genichi, then saw the blood-soaked cripple lying on the ground behind him. Their faces instantly turned deathly pale.
They drew their swords and blocked the entrance, their voices trembling.
"Stop! Who are you?! Take another step and we'll attack!"
Genichi didn't stop.
He merely raised one hand and gave a casual wave.
A black shadow emerged from beneath his feet and silently drifted toward the guards.
It did not attack them.
It simply stood there like a wall, blocking their path.
The guards swung their swords into the shadow, but the blades sank into it as though cutting into a swamp. There was no resistance and no effect.
They stumbled backward in terror, dropping their swords. The weapons struck the ground with crisp metallic clangs.
Genichi dragged the General into the imperial palace.
(End of Chapter)
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