The Phoenix of the Slums

Three days after the siege, the team traveled by night, avoiding surveillance and relying on old smuggler routes known only to Fang. The air was thick with tension as they approached Hefei—a city known for neon-lit excess and a criminal undercurrent ruled by the Lotus Clan. Every signboard and corner bore silent witnesses to its power: symbols painted in gold, the plum blossom insignia, and rumors whispered in fear.

Tianming sat in the back of an old utility truck, scanning a dossier compiled by Dr. Jin. The Second Key’s alias was "Xu Liang"—an underground fighter known as “Iron Ghost” in the circuits. According to intelligence, he had no family, no past, and no memory before age 12. He earned his keep fighting bare-knuckle matches in the Scarlet Fist Arena, deep beneath the Xinguang Nightclub.

“He doesn't know who he is,” Dr. Jin reminded them. “And that’s dangerous.”

“Why?” Fang asked, tightening the slide of her pistol.

“Because if he awakens mid-fight,” Jin said grimly, “you won’t be able to stop him. Not without losing Tianming.”

Zhao snorted from the driver’s seat. “No offense, but I’ve seen Tianming fight. He’ll be fine.”

Jin looked away. “You haven’t seen what happens when a Key fully unlocks.”

The city rose before them like a beast of glass and steel. Massive billboards glowed red and white, and the buzz of electricity filled the streets as they entered the outskirts.

Fang led them down to the lower district, navigating alleys drenched in shadow. The entrance to Scarlet Fist was hidden behind a fake noodle shop. A backdoor led to a lift, where a man with a cybernetic eye scanned them suspiciously before muttering, “Three hundred to buy in, one thousand to bleed.”

They paid in silence.

As the elevator sank into the underbelly of Hefei, the hum of the arena echoed upward—cheers, roars, the clang of flesh against steel. The doors opened to a massive underground pit surrounded by cages. A thousand faces screamed from rusted bleachers as two men fought in a ring soaked in blood.

Then the announcer’s voice boomed. “Next up! The Iron Ghost vs. Bone Crusher!”

Xu Liang stepped into the cage.

Tianming felt it instantly—not just strength, but presence. Xu Liang stood tall, shirtless, body covered in faded scars. His eyes were calm. Too calm. As if rage had no place inside him. He didn’t even flinch as Bone Crusher charged with a roar, swinging a chain-wrapped fist.

Xu Liang pivoted once.

He ducked, caught the man’s wrist, and with a flick of his shoulder sent him flying.

The crowd went silent.

Then Bone Crusher rushed again. Xu Liang raised a single hand—and struck. A precise palm to the solar plexus.

Bone Crusher dropped in one hit.

The match was over in less than ten seconds.

Fang leaned in. “He’s not even using his full strength.”

Dr. Jin nodded. “He’s suppressing it. Probably doesn’t know why. It’s instinct. He’s like you were, Tianming—sleeping.”

As Xu Liang left the cage, a man in a sharp lotus-embroidered suit approached from the private box. Song Rui. The same Song Rui who Tianming nearly killed back at the university gala.

“He’s here,” Zhao whispered.

Song Rui didn’t notice them yet. He leaned over and spoke to Xu Liang. Tianming read his lips: “You win again, ghost. Ever think about working for the real champions?”

Xu Liang ignored him. Walked off.

Tianming clenched his fists. “We need to talk to him. Now. Before Song Rui sinks his claws in.”

Jin held him back. “No. Not yet. One wrong move, and you’ll trigger a war.”

Fang narrowed her eyes. “Then we do it quietly.”

Tianming exhaled, gaze locked on Xu Liang’s retreating form. “Then let’s follow the Iron Ghost into the dark—and wake him up.”