29. When Love Meets War
Chapter twenty-nine
When Love Meets War
Lei
My father had done the unthinkable.
I closed my eyes.
The air was cold, biting against my sweat-soaked skin as I stood at the edge of the Arena of Echoes.
The descent had drained me.
Every muscle in my body screamed for rest but there was no room for weakness.
Not here.
Not now.
My chest heaved as I caught my breath with Soaring Precious still clutched tightly in my hand.
Go ahead and deal with it.
I opened my eyes.
And I saw her.
Chanel.
Or what was left of her.
Slowly, I walked forward getting closer to the grotesque display my father had orchestrated.
The air carried the sickly-sweet stench of decay that clawed at my nostrils and threatened to choke me. It was a smell I’d encountered before, in the aftermath of battles and executions, but this was different.
This was personal.
Chanel’s once radiant brown skin had turned a ghastly dark gray, cracked like the parched earth after a drought. Pieces of that rotted flesh had peeled away, exposing the raw, desiccated insides beneath.
Her hair—once thick, long waves that I’d dreamed of running my fingers through—was gone, leaving patches of bare, mottled scalp and flesh.
Her full lips—now shriveled and receded—revealed rotten teeth that grinned grotesquely in death.
At her sides, her fingers, curled inward like the brittle claws of some long-dead creature unearthed from the ground.
My God. What the fuck is wrong with him?
She was naked.
I stopped ten feet away from her, unable to get any closer.
The indignity of it hit me like a blow to the chest. Not that her body—ruined as it was—could stir desire, but the disrespect in the act was undeniable. My father had reduced Chanel, a woman who had once commanded rooms and controlled the West, to nothing more than a prop in his twisted game.
Do you even know how to fight with honor anymore?
Rage bubbled beneath my exhaustion.
Her head lolled to the side. Her lifeless eyes stared at nothing yet still pierced through me.
Pleading.
Accusing.
So close, the stench of decay clung to the air like an unwelcome ghost. It was everywhere, inescapable, wrapping itself around me as I stood motionless, staring at Chanel’s ruined form.
But the longer I stood there, the less the smell seemed to matter.
The less she even seemed to matter.
This isn’t Chanel.
Chanel had been gone for a long time.
Don’t just get angry and act. That’s exactly what he wants you to do. Instead. . .wait and think.
I looked at the situation deeper.
Okay.
This display of her naked dead body in front of the East was meant to be a mockery. A cruel imitation of the woman Chanel once was, crafted by my father who thrived on manipulation and control.
I forced my breathing to be steady.
Alright. Now go further. What else?
My father had done this for a reason—to get in my head.
To make me falter.
He thought this would shatter me, would crack my resolve and leave me vulnerable.
But he was wrong.
In the end, Chanel’s body wasn’t here because of him.
It was because of me .
I clenched my jaw as that realization hit my chest with brutal clarity.
I was the one who had taken Chanel’s body. Stolen it like some selfish, grieving thief, believing I could somehow protect her, even in death. I’d let my guilt and anger blind me, and in doing so, I’d given my sister Yan—and now my father—the perfect weapon to use against me.
I stared at Chanel’s lifeless form, the cracks in her skin, the emptiness in her eyes, and felt something shift inside me.
For the first time since I’d seen her, there was no surge of anger, no desperate wave of guilt.
Just. . .absolute acceptance.
Chanel wasn’t here anymore. Not in any way that mattered. She had died long ago, her vibrant light extinguished by the same man who stood across from me now.
Her death wasn’t my fault.
It never had been.
It was his .
My father had killed her. He’d taken her from me just like he’d taken everything else. And no amount of my guilt or rage would bring her back.
But this battle. . .it isn’t about Chanel anyway. I know that now. It’s not even about his killing Romeo or Yan. Not anymore.
Moni’s face flashed in my mind.
This is about protecting my new life.
I let out a slow breath and loosened my grip on Soaring Precious just enough to ease the tension in my hand. The rage that bubbled in my chest began to fade, replaced by something steadier, stronger.
I thought of Moni some more.
Her warmth, her strength, her unapologetic determination to stand beside me no matter what the odds. I thought of the way her voice softened when she whispered my name, the way her lips curved into a smile that could cut through even the darkest nights.
I didn’t need to fight for vengeance or guilt or ghosts anymore.
I needed to fight for her .
For us .
Calm, I shifted my gaze to where my father stood beneath the Great White Blossom.
The tree was legendary, its branches heavy with pure white petals that never fell, no matter the season or weather. Tonight, the blossoms glowed faintly under the moonlight. Its massive white trunk stood firm, the bark smooth and pale as bone.
My father’s expression was one of triumph, his arms folded as he watched me with the arrogance of a man who believed he’d already won.
You think you got in my bed? Jokes on you, old man. I don’t care that you have Chanel’s body out here.
His gaze met my calm one and his expression faltered.
I won’t play your game .
I didn’t know what he saw in that moment, but I knew what I felt—peace and clear purpose.
There was no fury in my stance, no hatred in my gaze.
Just resolve.
His frown deepened, the cracks in his confidence spreading as he studied me.
I was sure he had expected me to crumble, to lose myself in the chaos he had created. Instead, he was met with the one thing he couldn’t understand—strength born not of fear or hatred, but love.
I’m my father’s son but I’m also my mother’s son too.
Then the crows came.
Hundreds of them—all midnight black feathers and sharp beaks.
They swooped down from the shadows of the night sky. Their harsh cries cut through the wind like jagged shards of glass.
First, they swarmed the tree, beating their black wings furiously.
I quirked my brows.
Then, one by one, the crows landed on the Great White’s branches until the pristine white of the blossoms was swallowed by the inky mass of their feathers, making the tree appear darkly foreboding.
finally, I accepted what I’d always knew to be true whenever I saw them.
Romeo and Chanel are here. . .along with the rest of their ancestors. I don’t know if it’s true or not but that’s what I would like to believe.
I returned my view to my father.
He shifted beneath the tree and flicked his gaze upward as the crows stared down at him.
For the first time that night, I saw it.
Fear.
It was fleeting, a flicker in his eyes, but it was there.
Returning his gaze to mine, he walked away from the tree and approached Chanel’s body.
I tightened my grip on Soaring Precious and raised its point to the sky, readying myself for any attack.
Of course he didn’t come closer, but he did stop right next to Chanel.
People began to appear and settle into the stands.
Sun Tzu’s teachings filled my head.
He will win who knows when to fight—and when not to.
My father wanted me to lose control, to charge at him in a blind rage. He wanted to strip me of the discipline that had been drilled into me since I was a child.
But I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
You will make the first move, old man.
He pointed to Chanel. “This is your true Mountain Mistress.”
I knew better than to rise to that bait.
His expression twisted into a smirk when he saw I wasn’t reacting the way he wanted. His next move was uncharacteristic—a sign that he was unraveling as much as I was.
To my shock, he unbuckled his pants with one hand as the other held Imperial Lament.
I raised my eyebrows.
What the fuck?
Time seemed to slow as he pulled his cock out and fully turned to Chanel’s lifeless body.
A collective gasp came from the newly forming crowd.
And then he pissed on Chanel’s dead body.
Wow.
The sound was loud, vulgar, a desecration that rebounded through the arena. The urine streamed down her already decayed form, pooling at the base of the chair.
The sight was nauseating, but it was his face that seared itself into my memory—his smug, twisted grin, the satisfaction in his eyes as if he’d accomplished something great.
And that stance of his—even though he was peeing—was one that said he hoped I would charge for him while doing it.
Nice try, Father.
I glanced at the crowd and saw that Moni, Chen, and Duck hadn’t arrived yet—but Dima was there. He was the only man who rose from his seat, clearly pissed off at what Leo was doing to our best friend’s dead body.
Don’t worry, Dima. I’ve got it.
I put my view back on my father.
“There,” He zipped himself back up. “Much better.”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t speak.
I just stared at him, my breath steady and my mind calm.
More people must have streamed into the stands because even more murmurs rose in the air. It was a rippling hum of excitement and dread.
My father sneered at me. “Did I raise a coward? A man who won’t even protect the honor of those he supposedly cared for?”
I didn’t answer.
Words were pointless now.
He wanted a reaction, but all he got was silence.
Frustration flickered across his face.
I took one step forward, taunting him.
The crowd hushed.
Frowning, he moved his view to the stands. “Hmmm. Finally.”
I didn’t look.
I didn’t need to.
The slight curve of his mouth, the cruel glint in his eye, and the way he nodded almost imperceptibly told me everything I needed to know.
Moni.
She was here now.
The thought of her in the stands, exposed, vulnerable, set my blood humming but I forced myself to stay still.
My father was a master manipulator. He thrived on moments like these, twisting the knife where it hurt most.
Stay focused.
“When I kill you, son,” he raised his voice so the crowd could hear “I will finally give Monique the orgasms she deserves.”
My pulse pounded.
Ignore it. This is what he wants.
“The way I will make her moan.” He licked his lips.
Unable to help myself, I snapped. “She wouldn’t let you touch her.”
My father’s grin widened. “She wouldn’t have a choice. As my new Mountain Mistress, she’ll take my cock anytime I want to fill her with it.”
The world blurred.
Logic, reason, even my own carefully constructed discipline dissolved under the audacity of that statement.
My vision tunneled, focusing solely on him, on the arrogance in his voice, the smugness etched into his face.
He had crossed a line.
I lost control.
With a roar, I charged.
Soaring Precious sang through the air, the blade slicing a deadly arc toward his throat.
But he was ready.
Of course, he was ready.
He sidestepped at the last second, enough time to let his blade dart out and slice my thigh.
Hot pain bit through my flesh.
The crowd gasped.
I stumbled but only for a moment.
“So predictable,” my father circled me like a wolf. “All that anger. All that bravado. It always made you sloppy.”
“You are a pathetic human being. I can’t even call you a man anymore.”
He lunged.
I deflected the blow and the clash of our swords rang through the arena like thunder.
Sparks flew.
It was on.
We traded strikes in a flurry of motion. He was fast. I was faster.
I just couldn’t get my blade on him.
Our blades collided again and again and a-fucking-gain. Each strike vibrated through my arms.
The crowd roared with cheers and some screams.
Adrenaline surged within me.
He swung for my neck, I ducked as the blade whistled past my ear.
Then, I countered with a swift upward slash, forcing him to leap back.
He grinned. “Is that all you’ve got, boy?”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I pressed forward forcing him to retreat as I unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes. The sound of our blades echoed through the arena, drowning out everything else.
He blocked my attacks but the effort showed. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his breaths came out faster.
Getting tired, old man?
Then, he shifted and spun Imperial Lament, flashing toward my ribs in a deadly arc.
Shit!
I flipped backwards narrowly avoiding the strike and twisting in the air.
Once I landed, he was back on me but I delivered a kick to his side. The impact sent him stumbling, his boots skidding across the tiles.
Some of the crowd erupted.
I didn’t let up.
I leapt forward, charging for him.
He swung wildly, desperation bleeding into his movements.
I ducked under his strikes and with a quick pivot, drove my blade into his side.
Fuck yes!
Blood sprayed. It was a dark, glistening arc.
A woman cried in horror and I knew it was one of my aunts.
He stumbled back and clutched the wound. His expression twisted with pain.
The crows in the tree erupted into cries as they beat their wings.
It’s finally time for you to die.
I advanced.
He gave me a cruel smile. “Surely, you don’t think this is the end?”
“Come closer. I can’t hear you.”
A dark chuckle left him and then with a burst of speed, he sprinted away.
Where the fuck are you going now?