Lin An woke up to find his wounds completely healed, as if they had never existed. The red-haired man was gone. Only a black-robed figure remained, telling him the red-haired man had taken Li Mo to undergo the pre-initiation baptism.
"Alright," the figure said, turning to Lin An. "I'll take you to the pre-initiation trial now. Even though His Lordship favors you, procedures must be followed." Beneath the hood, only his chin was visible, with a hint of a smile on his lips. "Barring surprises, we'll be colleagues soon!"
Lin An nodded expressionlessly. They walked down a long, dim corridor lit by weak oil lamps. Countless other black-robed figures passed by, their robes marked with different patterns. No words or gestures were exchanged; all moved in silence like strangers. It struck Lin An as odd.
Soon, they reached a small room dominated by three weapon racks. The racks held rusted bladed weapons, all stained with dark red, dried blood. Lin An even spotted a Broken Sword among them.
"What's this?" Lin An asked, giving the figure a puzzled look.
"Pick a weapon that suits you," the figure replied. "Since His Lordship brought you, I'll warn you first: you're facing a brutal fight!" He pulled a cloth-wrapped object from his robes. Its shape suggested a Longsword. "Oh, right—this is from His Lordship. His first gift to you." His voice turned envious. "Favored by him? You have a bright future! Don't die out there. I'll need your help later. Call me Ying."
Lin An took the wrapped Longsword and unwrapped it. A sinister black blade emerged, covered in barbs and blood grooves. Crimson, vein-like patterns ran across it, radiating killing intent. The edge gleamed coldly in the dim light. He nodded at Ying. Though joining this organization was far from certain, building rapport wouldn't hurt. "Lin An," he said.
The black-robed figure stepped out silently and pressed a button outside.
*Clack!* Gears meshed. The entrance sealed behind an iron door. Chains rattled as the room began rising.
The noise stopped abruptly. The room halted. The door opened, revealing a vast circular arena bathed in bright light. Boys and girls around Lin An's age stood bewildered. More iron doors opened with clanking chains, releasing more children.
Remembering Ying's warning, Lin An hid the black Longsword behind his back and grabbed a rusty machete from the rack.
As expected, when only sobs and muttering filled the silence, a madman's voice boomed: "Welcome to the Death Arena! Hahahaha! Most of you don't know what comes next! Kill everyone here except yourself! Only then will you join our organization!" The voice cut off with maniacal laughter.
Silence returned. Most children panicked, but a few eyes flashed with ferocity as they crept toward others. Lin An recognized them—like him, they'd seen blood.
*Clack clack.* Gears and chains resumed. A wall extended behind Lin An, blocking hiding spots. Expressionless, he stepped out. It was a clear signal to begin.
"Nooo!" A skinny boy screamed as a tall boy swung a cleaver, knocking him down. The tall boy hacked at him again and again, like a butcher chopping meat.
The attack sparked chaos. Bodies tore apart. Blood splattered the ground. The stench of blood flooded the air.
"Wahhh! I quit! Let me out!" Some children fled or collapsed, sobbing.
The fighters, drenched in blood, eyed each other warily before clashing. They aimed to settle scores among themselves first, then pick off the defenseless "cowards."
Lin An pretended to sob, collapsing. But behind his fingers, his crimson eyes coldly watched the slaughter through the gaps—like a lurking beast observing its prey.
