The Throne of the Devoured God

The Smile of a Ghost

Blood does not wash away in the pit, it just becomes the paint for the next man's execution.

The copper stench of fresh death filled the cramped spaces of the circular enclosure. Lu Feng stood perfectly still in the center of the scrap iron floor, his right hand dripping with dark crimson as the last of the three prisoners slumped into the metal shavings. He had utilized Hog's brutal, heavy-handed gladiator style with terrifying efficiency, snapping limbs and crushing throats in a matter of seconds. The rat-faced man lay motionless near the far corner, his eyes staring blankly at the stone ceiling. There was no hesitation left in Lu Feng's movements, only the cold, mechanical application of twenty years of arena slaughter.

"Open the gate," Lu Feng shouted, his voice cutting through the damp subterranean air like a sharpened blade. He did not look at the bodies at his feet. Instead, he stared directly through the thick iron bars toward the dark corridor where the guards usually waited. "Bring me the overseer right now."

A low, mocking chuckle echoed from the shadows of the tunnel. A moment later, the lead overseer stepped into the dim light of the glowing fungus, his leather vest creaking as he rested his hand on his electrical whip. "You are a loud one, aren't you? Most rats just cower in the corner after their first taste of the arena. You think because you killed three starving dogs you get to call the shots here?"

"I am not calling shots," Lu Feng replied, stepping closer to the bars so his shadowed face was inches from the metal grating. "I am offering you a fortune. If you keep throwing me in here with random garbage, I will kill them all, and you will make a few coins on a predictable match. That is a waste of my time and your gold."

The overseer narrowed his eyes, his amusement fading into genuine curiosity. "A slum boy talking about fortune? Explain yourself before I use this whip to teach you some manners."

"Hog is dead," Lu Feng said flatly. "I killed him out in the trash mounds. I have his strength now, and I have his memories. You lost your champion today, which means your bets for the upper district nobles are going to plummet. You need a new monster to pull the crowds."

The overseer gasped slightly, his hand tightening on his weapon. "You killed Hog? That beast was a mountain of muscle. How does a scrawny piece of trash like you take down a giant?"

"It does not matter how I did it," Lu Feng said, his tone completely flat and devoid of any pride. "What matters is that I can replicate his style and add my own. I propose a new arrangement. Instead of making me fight for survival every single day like a common slave, give me the main stage. I will become the ultimate champion of the Scrap Iron Arena. I will pull in massive bets from the lords upstairs, higher than anything Hog ever brought you."

"And what do you want in return, boy?" the overseer asked, leaning against the bars with a greedy glint in his eye. "Freedom? We do not sell freedom here."

"I do not care about freedom yet," Lu Feng said, his black veins pulsing under his skin. "I want a single condition met. I choose my own cellmates from now on. You bring the prisoners I ask for into my cell, and I will guarantee you a bloodbath that makes your pockets overflow every single night."

The overseer stared at him for a long moment, evaluating the cold calculation in the boy's eyes. A twisted, yellow-toothed smile slowly broke across his scarred face.

The overseer laughs and agrees, throwing Lu Feng into a dark cell where Elder Mo is chained to the wall.

"You have got a deal, monster," the overseer laughed, his voice echoing loudly as he unlocked the heavy gate with a heavy iron key. "Let us see if you can handle your first choice. Move your feet."

Two heavily armored guards grabbed Lu Feng by his shoulders and dragged him down a long, dripping hallway that smelled of ancient rot. They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door bound in thick brass bands, unlatching the locks with a loud click. They threw him violently inside, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving him in absolute, pitch-black darkness.

"Who goes there?" a frail, cracked voice whispered from the depths of the room. The sound of heavy iron chains rattling against solid stone followed the question. "Have they sent another sacrificial lamb to the slaughterhouse?"

Lu Feng adjusted his vision to the dark, spotting a weak, sickly green glow from a tiny patch of fungus near the floor. In the corner of the cell, an old man with long, matted white hair and a deeply wrinkled face sat bound to the stone wall by massive iron cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Despite his weakened state, his eyes shone with a sharp, dangerous intelligence.

"My name is Lu Feng," the boy said, walking forward until he stood directly in front of the old man. "And I am the one who requested you."

The old man let out a weak, raspy laugh that turned into a dry cough. "Requested me? I am Elder Mo. I have been rotting in the depths of this landfill for a decade. My spiritual core is broken, and my family name is wiped from the records. What could a boy with black veins possibly want from a ghost?"

"I want the techniques that the upper districts stole from you," Lu Feng said, his voice completely level. "The ghost style that made you a terror before they threw you down here."

Elder Mo smiled, a terrifying, hollow expression in the dim green light. "You have courage, boy. Let us see if your mind breaks before your bones do."

"My mind will not break," Lu Feng stated, crossing his arms as he stared at the old captive. "I have already lost everything that can be taken from a person. My home, my lineage, and my blood have all been stripped away. What I have left is a body that does not feel pain and the memories of the men I kill. I need your martial arts to survive the arena, and you need a weapon to enact your revenge on the people upstairs."

Elder Mo narrowed his eyes, the heavy chains rattling as he leaned his head forward against the damp stone wall. "Revenge is a heavy word for a child. You think you can carry the weight of my past just because you can survive a few common street brawls in the mud?"

"I am not carrying your past," Lu Feng countered sharply. "I am building my future. If you teach me the movements, I will make sure the lords who put you in these chains pay for every single link. You can rot here and die with your secrets, or you can watch me use your legacy to tear down the upper districts piece by piece."

The old man went silent for a few moments, the rhythmic dripping of water from the ceiling filling the dark void between them. "You talk like a man who has already died once. Tell me, boy, what happened to your meridians? I can feel the absolute emptiness inside your chest from here. There is no spiritual energy inside you, no heat, no life."

"My core was destroyed by the high priests," Lu Feng explained, lifting his right hand to show the complex web of dark, pulsing veins running along his skin. "This is what keeps me alive. It gives me physical strength and locks away my agony, but it gives me no spiritual flow. I cannot cultivate the normal ways anymore."

"A broken vessel with a dead body," Elder Mo murmured, his smile widening slightly to reveal a row of chipped, yellowing teeth. "Fascinating. The ghost style was originally designed for those who could blend completely into the shadows, shifting their weight like a vapor. It requires an absolute detachment from the physical sensations of the flesh. A normal cultivator struggles because their life energy binds them to their pain. But you... you might actually be the perfect corpse for it."

"Then stop talking and begin," Lu Feng said, taking a step backward to give himself room on the stone floor. "The overseer will expect me to enter the arena again tomorrow night, and I intend to give the crowd a performance they will never forget."

"Very well, little monster," Elder Mo chuckled, the sound dry and scraping in his throat. "First, you must learn to stand without occupying space. Watch my shadow, if your eyes can handle the dark."