The afternoon sun hung low over the cobbled streets of Soto City, casting long golden shadows that danced between buildings. A sudden ripple of tension swept through the air as Dai Mubai, his expression grim with fury, charged straight toward Qian Yu like a storm barely held together.
Beneath his feet, rings of light shimmered into view—two yellow, one purple—each soul ring flaring with power as his spirit energy surged outward in waves of visible force. A hush fell over the crowd.
"Dai Shao's really going all out... he's a Soul Elder, three rings strong!"
"And one of them's a thousand-year soul ring... that guy doesn't stand a chance!"
"Look at him—fair-skinned, delicate—he looks like he'd break under a strong breeze. He's nothing like our Dai Shao!"
Dai Mubai was nearly upon his target when Qian Yu's lips curved in a faint, almost amused smile. In the next instant, the air around him shifted, as though the earth itself paused to take a breath. A pressure—immense, ancient, and terrifying—rolled out from his frame like the quiet before a thunderclap.
The crowd recoiled as if struck. Their expressions, previously smug and entertained, twisted into disbelief.
"What... what the hell was that?"
"Who is he?! That aura... it's unreal!"
A dozen onlookers stumbled back, overcome by the instinctual urge to kneel beneath the oppressive force. Even Dai Mubai faltered mid-stride, sweat prickling at his brow, heart pounding in his chest.
But his momentum left no room for hesitation.
He lunged.
And then, the impossible happened.
Four rings of deep black emerged from Qian Yu's body, glowing like obsidian suns in the open daylight. The fourth ring shimmered with a crimson undertone—a sign it had passed seventy thousand years of age.
Black. Black. Black. Black—crimson-tinged.
Silence choked the crowd.
"No way... that's... that's not real."
"Four ten-thousand-year rings?!"
"Gods, is that last one even older than seventy thousand?!"
The sheer impossibility of it left them dumbstruck. Even Dai Mubai, midair and seconds from collision, felt his stomach drop.
"He's younger than me," Dai thought, eyes wide with disbelief. "How does he have that kind of power?!"
But it was too late.
Qian Yu met him calmly.
With a flick of his wrist, a sharp current of wind spiraled into his palm. He stepped forward, body relaxed, and drove a single, precise punch straight into Dai Mubai's gut.
Boom.
The sound cracked through the square like a cannonshot.
Dai Mubai's body crumpled mid-flight, then soared backward, slamming into the wall behind him with bone-jarring force. He slumped to the ground, a sickening splatter of blood escaping his lips. Clutching his abdomen, he doubled over in agony.
A stunned quiet fell over the street.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Only the faint whisper of wind stirred through the air.
"He... lost?"
"He actually lost?"
"Who is that guy...?"
The twins who had accompanied Dai Mubai—two girls with matching crimson skirts and empty stares—let out shrieks of panic and fled like startled deer.
"Demon! You're a monster!" one cried, as their footsteps vanished into the distance.
Qian Yu approached the fallen man with measured steps, his expression unreadable. He looked down at the writhing figure and spoke quietly.
"Well, Dai Shao?" he said, voice calm but razor-edged. "How's that room looking now?"
Dai Mubai trembled, eyes wide with fear. "Wh-who are you...?"
"You don't need to know," Qian Yu replied, tone turning cold. "But since you love renting hotel rooms so much... since you couldn't resist stealing one from me—" He raised his hand again. "Let's make sure you never rent another."
A blade of wind shimmered into being. It glinted once in the light—and sliced downward.
Shhk.
A cry tore through the stillness.
"Aaaaaaahhh—!"
Blood bloomed across the cobblestones. Dai Mubai convulsed, shrieking in agony, hands scrambling to cover what could no longer be saved.
"You..." he gasped, sweat pouring down his temples, pupils contracting with horror.
"You'll live," Qian Yu said softly. "But from now on... don't call yourself the White Tiger. You're just a broken cat."
He turned without another word.
"Xiao Wu," he called gently.
The girl—young, lithe, and radiant with a quiet confidence—stepped forward without hesitation.
"I'm coming," she said, casting one last glance at the weeping wreck Dai Mubai had become.
Together, they entered the hotel.
Behind them, the silence fractured into a low, stunned murmur.
"No way... he really did it."
"He castrated him. Like, actually... castrated him."
"He used to flirt with every girl he saw... how's he supposed to do that now?"
"Not gonna lie," one onlooker muttered, rubbing his chin, "kind of deserved it."
"Guess even rich boys fall when they get too full of themselves."
The Rose Hotel was a place of odd charm—simple pastel tones, soft lighting, and a faint fragrance of real roses that made even the most jaded traveler feel at ease.
At the top floor, Qian Yu and Xiao Wu approached their room. The nameplate read in cursive letters: Red Ocean—the Sea of Love.
"I didn't know roses came in that many colors," Qian Yu muttered as they passed Blue Enchantress, Pink Tenderness, and Green Farewell.
Finally, they reached the final door—bold crimson, trimmed with deep garnet crystal shaped into roses. Beside the floral décor, a vertical line of small characters whispered in silver ink: Red Ocean – A Sea of Love.
Xiao Wu stepped inside first.
She stopped abruptly.
Qian Yu, distracted, accidentally walked straight into her back. The contact was soft. Spring.
"Why'd you stop?" he asked, pulling away instinctively.
But then he saw what she had.
The room was enormous, easily over fifty square meters. All the furniture shimmered in silver tones, carved with delicate, elegant filigree. The carpet beneath their feet was a deep crimson, embroidered with hundreds of tiny raised rose patterns.
In the center of the room, like a shrine to some hopeless romantic god, was a massive heart—crafted entirely from real red roses.
It spanned nearly two square meters.
Over a thousand roses must've gone into its creation. A silk ribbon drifted gently across its surface, fluttering slightly from the air conditioning. On it, in delicate embroidery, were the words:
"One thousand and one... You are my only one."
Xiao Wu clasped her hands, eyes wide. "Wow," she whispered. "It's... beautiful."
Qian Yu said nothing.
But for a fleeting second, even he felt something stir inside him.
A small, fragile warmth.
Like the first breath of spring after a bitter winter.
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