28. Blood Wine
Chapter twenty-eight
Blood Wine
Lei
He moved faster than I expected, a blade appearing in his hand like magic.
The space erupted in chaos.
Aunt Min screamed.
The dancers fled.
Guests scrambled for cover, overturning chairs.
Chen leapt to his feet, shouting orders I couldn’t hear over the noise of shrieks and crashing plates.
And Moni. . .
“Lei, be careful!” she cried out as Duck and Thandi yanked her from her chair and dragged her away.
Good. She’s safe.
Because now it was just him and me.
Everything happened so fast, I wasn’t even sure everyone else could make out our movements.
My father launched himself over the table like a feral beast. His blade cut through the air, and it was a blur of silver aimed at my throat.
Fast, I saw the glint of the blade, felt the sharp rush of displaced air.
Shit.
Still holding the glass of wine, I twisted out of my chair, spun to my feet, slid to the side, and intentionally moved with this lazy ease as if this were just another sparring session and my father was nothing more than a practice dummy.
It’s really happening.
The force of his momentum sent him crashing down onto the table.
The heavy wood creaked under the impact.
Plates and glasses scattered.
People screamed.
“Don’t you dare hurt him!” Moni’s scream pierced through the chaos. “I will fucking kill you, Leo!”
I didn’t look her way.
I couldn’t.
Duck and Thandi had already pulled her away, ensuring she was clear of our violence.
Focus.
I casually took another sip of wine.
My father recovered instantly, jumping up off the table, landing three feet away, twisting on his heel, and lunging at me again.
Fast, his blade came down in a vicious arc, aiming for my head, but I sidestepped with an almost casual grace, letting the wine swirl lazily in my glass.
“Getting sloppy, Father.” I taunted.
He came again.
The blade hissed through the air, narrowly missing my shoulder, and he spun to the other side fueled by fury.
I was behind him, before he could realize it.
Growling, he charged, his strikes relentless, his blade a whirlwind of steel that could have carved the average man to ribbons in seconds.
Still, I danced away from each one.
He slashed at my chest—I stepped back.
He thrust for my stomach—I twisted, letting the blade pass within inches of my skin.
Whenever I could, I sipped more of my wine.
He lunged again, this time aiming for my ribs.
I spun out of his reach, twisting with a dancer’s precision.
Then, finally he swung again.
Holy fuck!
The blade whistled toward my throat, and I ducked and darted a few feet to the right, feeling the heat of its edge graze the air above me.
He’d been prepared for that.
Another swing.
This one was wilder, angrier, the blade’s edge aimed to cleave me in two.
I leaned back, letting the attack pass harmlessly, then finished the last sip of my wine.
That was too close.
A crowd had gathered around us.
I wasn’t stupid enough to look at who was there. All my attention had to be on him and staying alive, but at least I’d gotten my father to make the first move.
Now, let’s see if this tactic works.
Within seconds, I slammed the wine glass into the edge of the table, shattering it into jagged shards.
His blade came at me again, but this time, I didn’t dodge.
I stepped into the attack, my arm coming up to deflect his strike.
Fuck!
The blade sliced into my flesh, but that was the point. It was the distraction.
With my other hand, I drove the jagged stem of the glass toward his neck.
There we go!
He caught my wrist mid-thrust, so quick I wasn’t sure if his hand hadn’t been attached to the glass the entire time.
Shit.
I spun away from the blade.
He predicted my direction and slammed his other hand into my neck. The force was brutal, sending me staggering back.
Air rushed from my lungs.
Pain bloomed in my throat—sharp and hot—but I didn’t let it slow me down.
I recovered quickly, twisting out of his reach as he advanced again. His blade gleamed in the low light, slick with my blood.
He missed.
I jumped several feet back.
He just remained still and watched me.
What’s your next move?
Adrenaline coursed through my veins making every second stretch into an eternity.
Then, he moved.
But he didn’t come my way.
Instead, he leapt into the air with a speed and agility that contradicted his age. His form was a blur as he crossed the table, going back to his side.
What the fuck? Stay here and fight.
But, I had the edge, and he knew it.
His feet landed on the other side with an echoing thud.
His jacket whipped around him in a dramatic flourish.
“Smart, son.” He slung the blade to the ground. It clattered. He gave me a half bow. “You got in my head. I’ll admit that.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“You won’t do that again.”
I froze for a moment, watching as my father pulled his formal jacket off and tossed it carelessly to the ground.
Then he yanked off his dress shirt in one fluid motion, revealing the body that had once seemed larger than life to me as a child.
Muscle corded his bare arms and chest. Every inch of him was a true display of violence and survival. A map of scars and bullet wounds, pale lines and ragged dots crisscrossing his bronze skin.
But it was the tattoo that held my attention.
The massive blue dragon, inked in bold strokes of sapphire and midnight, snaked along his chest and curled over his shoulder.
The head rested just above his heart, jaws open in a silent roar, eyes gleaming with a ferocity that mirrored the man who wore it.
To my shock, a strange pang hit my chest—an ache that wasn’t entirely hatred.
I swallowed.
As a boy, I’d been in awe of that tattoo. I’d wait for the rare moments when my father would pass out on the couch after a long night of Four Aces business. When he wasn’t yelling, wasn’t commanding—just lying there, still and human .
I’d sneak over to him and trail my little finger along the scales, marveling at the artistry; the way the tattooed dragon seemed to ripple and come alive with my father’s snoring.
Back then, I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.
It made him seem even more invincible.
I remembered how I’d wanted a dragon of my own, had begged my mother to let me get one.
She’d laughed softly, running her fingers through my hair and said, “One day, Lei. But not yet.”
Now here we were, years later, that same dragon staring back at me, not as a symbol of admiration but as a challenge.
I clenched my jaw, forcing the memories back.
He wasn’t that man anymore.
No, that’s not right.
He’d always been this man—a tyrant, a killer.
I’d just been too young, too naive, to see it.
Now , all I saw was the monster.
My father shifted his stance.
The dragon moved with him, and its jaws snapped as his muscles flexed. He rolled his shoulders and then cracked his neck. “I had a singer planned for tonight.”
“I’m sure you did.”
He went to his chair, leaned over and reached for something under it. “I spent three weeks thinking of what song she would sing.”
My father pulled out a sword—a blade so famous, so drenched in legend, that my blood chilled at the sight of it.
Fuck. The Imperial Lament.
The blade’s curved, gleaming surface wasn’t just a weapon—it was a relic of death, named for the emperor who used it to kill his own corrupted son centuries ago.
That act of betrayal had marked the sword with an infamy that bled into every story told of it.
I did my best to not appear terrified. “And what song did you decide on?”
He raised the sword in front of him and studied the blade. “I settled on an old tune, something from the time of Emperor Qin.”
The sword hummed in the air, catching the moonlight.
I clenched my jaw.
Shit just got even more real.
I dropped the shard of glass still in my hand and shrugged off my jacket and shirt, tossing them to the floor.
There was no room for hesitation now.
Slowly, he twisted Imperial Lament around. “The song is called The Blossoms and the Blade . It’s a tale of love and victory, of loyalty and betrayal.”
I went over to my side of the table, grabbed Soaring Precious , and unsheathed it.
The sword came alive in my hand.
“I thought that song would be perfect.” My father gazed at the sword in my hand. “Don’t you think?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t pick something from Tupac’s discography.”
My father let out a dark chuckle. "Oh, believe me, son, Tupac crossed my mind. His words cut deep but they don't carry the weight of legacy .”
Everyone began spreading out to give us more space, while others headed away.
My father continued. “You see, Tupac rapped about the streets—about loyalty and betrayal—but his story ended too soon.”
He put his view back on Imperial Lament . “He didn’t have the time to etch his name into the kind of eternity my chosen song carries."
He turned the blade slightly, letting the moonlight ripple down its edge. "But The Blossoms and the Blade. That’s a story of triumph and ruin, of blood spilled not because it had to be but because it was destiny ."
“Too bad I don’t have time to listen to the song. I only have time to kill you.”
“Too bad.” He snapped his gaze to me. “I guess I’ll hear her sing while you lay on the ground, your blood soaking the stone while her lovely voice rises in the air.”
The crowd gasped but I didn’t flinch.
I took one step forward. “Enough with talking, Father .”
For a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—something that wasn’t hatred. But then it was gone, replaced by the ruthless determination of a man who would stop at nothing to win.
I held the sword in front of me. “Let’s now allow our swords to have a conversation.”
He smirked. “Good idea, son .”
I braced myself, knowing that it made sense for him to leap back over the table and come for me.
Here we go. It is beginning.
But then, to my shock, he did something I didn’t expect. Instead of charging at me, he moved with a burst of speed in the opposite direction.
What the fuck?
He raced to an unused side of the platform that only led to a cliffed edge, where there was no railing, just an open drop plunging into the shadows below.
“No,” I growled, realizing his plan too late.
Fast, he shot to the cliffed edge and leapt into the air, soaring down the jagged edge of the mountain with the Imperial Lament gleaming in his hand.
Moonlight bathed his figure, turning him into a ghostly silhouette before he disappeared into darkness.
The crowd erupted into chaos, voices overlapping as panic took hold.
Shit. The game is back in his hand.
Chen got to my side. “You’re doing good.”
Fury bubbled under my skin. “I wanted to fight him here .”
“We knew that strategy was a long shot. At least, you got him to crack and you tired him out. That’s why he fled.”
“He’s got Imperial Lament .”
“And you’ve got Soaring Precious .” Chen stepped in front of me. “And more important, it’s not the sword that kills. It’s the man holding it. You know where he’s going.”
The Arena of Echoes.
I shivered.
Several weeks ago, I’d fought Duck there because he’d grabbed Moni’s panties. Now I would have to battle my father and kill him.
I swallowed. “Is Moni—”
“She’ll be down there.” Chen gestured behind me.
I followed where he was pointing.
Off the platform and further away, Moni struggled against Duck, Thandi, Fen, and even her sister, Jo. They held her back, their grips tight, but she fought like a wild animal.
Rowe Street Mob formed a line between her and the platform. It was clear Banks and Marcelo was determined to not let her get involved.
And in her hands?
A chopstick and a fork gripped tightly.
My baby.
She looked like she was ready to kill someone with them.
I turned back to Chen. “She tried to sneak guns to the feast.”
“She’s a proper Mountain Mistress.”
“Keep her away from getting in the middle of the battle and tell her that I love her.”
“I will.”
“If he. . .” I swallowed. “If he gets ready to kill me, and deliver the final strike—”
“I take Moni away before she can see the sword land and Duck and I will hide her from your father forever.”
I shivered.
Chen got out of my way. “Now, go kill Uncle Leo.”
Letting out a long breath, I gripped Soaring Precious tightly and raced to the edge of the platform.
Couldn’t just walk down the mountain, Father? Had to soar?
I got to the edge and without hesitation, I leapt off, gritting my teeth.
The wind tore at my hair and clothes as I soared through the air with my sword raised.
Moonlight bathed the mountain’s jagged face.
The cliffs gleamed like the bones of some ancient beast.
The drop was steep, the jagged cliffs rushing up to meet me, but in a whirl of plummeting motion, I whipped my sword through the air, twisting and turning my body in free fall, bouncing from ledge to ledge whenever I could.
I was a tumbling arrow, shot from the bow of vengeance.
The sensation was dizzying.
My muscles burned with effort.
My heart pounded in my ears.
A jagged outcrop loomed ahead.
With a twist of my wrist, I angled Soaring Precious outward, bracing for impact.
The blade struck the rock with a shower of sparks and I used the momentum to swing myself around the outcrop and onto a narrow ledge just below.
The landing was rougher than I intended.
Rocks skittered underfoot.
But there wasn't time to catch my breath.
My father was somewhere below, probably already waiting in the Arena of Echoes.
Come on. Don’t let him get down there to rest.
I launched myself off the ledge again. This time it was less a leap and more a controlled fall aided by Soaring Precious.
The sword’s razor-sharp edge bit into stone and ice alike as I descended in a whirlwind of motion.
At last, I spotted the Arena of Echoes far off.
The sparring ring was a masterpiece of shimmering blue stones where many Four Aces believed those stones granted unmatched strength and wisdom during combat.
Tonight, surrounding the arena, fire torches glimmered, placing dancing shadows against the already gathering crowd.
Beside the ring, a breathtaking waterfall cascaded. Its clear waters were rumored to possess healing properties. Fighters often submerged their injuries in its depths, trusting it to quicken their recovery.
Guarding the Arena of Echoes, imposing stone statues of mythical creatures stood watch. A dragon with emerald eyes coiled around one corner, while a phoenix with ruby eyes spread its carved wings. Nearby, a tiger crouched, staring at a graceful crane.
So close.
With a final spin mid-air, I angled myself towards the arena entrance and seconds later landed hard.
The ground beneath me trembled with the impact.
My knees buckled, but I managed to regain my footing.
The crowd roared in response, ready to see a fight.
I straightened.
There my father stood in the center of the Arena of Echoes.
But that wasn’t the problem.
What is that?
He stood next to. . .
God no!
My body stiffened as horror began to overtake me.
N-noooooooo!