I can’t believe General Qin Shi didn’t call me to the meeting.

  Lieutenant Keung’s footsteps echoed in the bright corridor of Yu Tower, each one sending a buzz of pain through his right side. The stitches were still fresh. After his disgraceful performance against the Yangs in Ho Man Ting City, letting two Tien Tao Rioters escape, he had refused EM therapy. On top of that, his adrenal pumps needed repair, but he wouldn’t allow it.

  The Elder Dragon’s probably preparing to cut me from the detachment. Failures like me don’t deserve a quick recovery.

  As he limped towards the end of the corridor, mocking chuckles echoed from the Kingmakers who passed him, unashamedly swivelling their heads to stare at him. Some even made comments within earshot…

  ‘Seen any good fights lately, sir?’

  ‘Got a little something on your face, Lieutenant.’

  Keung increased his pace and tugged his peaked cap lower, shielding himself from prying eyes. The brim of his cap cast a shadow over his hardened, gaunt face, but the coarse stubble on his jaw betrayed his unique identity to onlookers. After all, he was the only Kingmaker in the tower allowed to keep his facial hair.

  He looked down at the floor, catching sight of the hem of his trench coat. The left side was a darker shade where the blood had dried. His right eye throbbed, swollen shut, and he lifted a hand to touch it, feeling the bruised skin warm beneath his fingers.

  At last, before him stood before the coveted lift, and soon he’d find safety away from these vicious corridors.

  Jab, prod. Thud.

  Keung repeatedly mashed the buttons, bouncing on his heels as the lift rose from the lower levels of the tower. He could hear the almost quiet whirring of the motor pulling the ropes higher. Damned slow lifts. Come on. They seemed to be moving at a glacial pace today.

  The lift finally arrived and opened its doors. Just as Keung thought he could finally take a breath alone, Kowloon had other plans.

  ‘Lieutenant Keung? Sir, is that you?’

  It was Ushi. His face was shadowed under the short brim of his cap, yet his hulking frame was unmistakable. Keung entered, positioned himself in front of Ushi and pressed the button for the 25th floor. As the lift began its slow ascent, Keung stared at the rising numbers on the lift dial.

  Why does Ba’s office have to be so high in the tower? Keung felt as though the imposing Yu Tower had also joined in on the mockery.

  ‘How was your meeting?’ Keung asked, the question catching in his throat. He bit back the words he truly wanted to say: I should’ve been there. It’s my team.

  ‘Why weren’t you with us, sir? Tribune Cheng told us you were taking a break. But why? What happened to you in Ho Man Ting City?’

  A chilling draught bled from a narrow vent near the lift’s ceiling, cutting through the still air as the lift crept up the tower’s spine. Keung didn’t say a word.

  ‘Sir, I don’t mean to be rude,’ Ushi began with a hint of steel in his voice. ‘But what’s with that video on the network? Everyone’s saying it’s you. Is that true? I know I saw Jin in it.’

  A suffocating silence stretched. The air felt heavy, the walls too close. Keung’s shoulders stiffened as if he was trying to shrink himself smaller. He couldn’t pretend not to hear, not in a space this small.

  ‘I think, yes,’ he muttered. ‘I uh… I didn’t watch the video, of course. But from what I heard, I… yes, I think it was me.’

  Another moment of silence passed while Keung stared at the lift’s dial.

  ‘How did the assignment get that bad?’ Ushi asked once more. ‘Were you injured beforehand?’

  No answer.

  ‘Lieutenant, I’m not going to lie.’ Ushi’s deep voice filled the square lift. ‘After Yutai’s kidnapping, other Kingmakers have raised questions about… about our effectiveness. That livestream of you fighting has only made things worse.’

  Keung’s heart dropped on hearing the video had really gone as viral as he’d feared. It wasn’t just the other Kingmakers in the tower laughing at him, it was the entire underground world.

  Ushi continued. ‘Luckily, General Qin Shi is willing to give us one last chance. We’re going to rescue Yutai.’

  Not me. You guys are doing that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The damning title of the original livestream is enough to put a stain on my name forever:

  “Kingmaker Yaozhi Keung gets ass beat by four Yangs [ORIGINAL CLIP]”

  But Ushi wasn’t finished, his voice softening just a shade. ‘But if you tell me there was some reason why you couldn’t fight well, anything that will excuse why you took such a beating, I’ll make it known to all.’

  Should I? I could tell him about the long chase through the southern alleys of Man Ting, the endless climbs up towering groundscrapers that winded me before the fight even began.

  He considered the lie. But if people find out it was just a chase that caused my dismal performance in the video, my supposed tired knees will be the next victim of their mockery. But what about my beatdown at the hands of the three Kingmakers in Ji Sia City? I’d almost died, and it hasn’t even been a week since that happened.

  Keung considered telling Ushi that. But the truth is I healed my way out of those earlier injuries using EM therapy. Everyone knows I took the miracle-working healing machines long before the brawl.

  His reputation had hit rock bottom. Part of him wished the fight had killed him. At least then, everyone could go from mocking to grieving him instead. That would’ve been the first time the Kingmakers had offered him something approaching respect.

  Suddenly, a searing bolt of pain tore through Keung’s left eye. The same one that had been flaring up recently.

  He rubbed it in a desperate attempt to alleviate the discomfort. It felt like there were pieces of shrapnel swimming around inside it.

  ‘Sir?’ Ushi asked, watching him from behind. ‘Are you crying?’

  This fucking implant—

  The Eye shot to life.

  What… the… hell…?

  Words began forming in his mind and then on his lips, as if spurred on by self-preservation. A need to protect his reputation, his dignity, his physical safety. His brain could not tell the difference, but something had been summoned to ensure his survival.

  Free thought and speech rapidly slipped away. Keung was starting to believe that his survival demanded lying to Ushi.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  ‘There is a reason for my substandard combat performance during the livestream, Praefect Ushi.’

  His voice sounded alien. Flat. Mechanical.

  ‘Sir? Are you okay?’

  ‘I had—’

  Ding.

  The lift chimed and the doors opened.

  The sharp sound severed whatever grip the Eye held over him. The momentary compulsion was silenced, and the pain in his left eye vanished. Keung let out a shaky breath, his hands trembled at his sides, eyes darting around as if he was lost.

  Ushi shook his head and walked out with a tsk. His boots dragged against the floor and his shoulders drooped, his usual proud posture nowhere to be seen. Outside the lift, he cast one last searching glance over his shoulder towards Keung. ‘Nothing?’ he asked.

  Keung swiftly looked away, hiding behind the cold steel of the lift doors as they closed.

  What in the name of the Light was that!? Was I just about to make up some lie to Ushi? Why does my Eye keep turning on?!

  The lift vibrated as it scaled the upper heights of the tower, each floor feeling darker than the last. As the doors opened on the 25th floor, they revealed the pristine halls reserved for the upper ranks of the Kingmakers and their administration. Overhead lights gleamed off the white tiles, the sterile corridors lacking the artistic expressions found on the lower levels. If General Denzhen wasn’t up here, Keung would have avoided this floor as much as possible.

  Upon reaching his father’s office, Keung looked up at the proud symbol of their family on the top of the door frame – the Yaozhi insignia. It was a testament to the resilience of their family, a lineage that had seen the rise and fall of ages, from the epoch of the Great Sinking, the birth of Dongism, to the current era.

  Keung recalled his father’s old words of comfort, spoken after days of relentless mockery for being slower and weaker than his Aux-Centurion peers. If they ever start convincing you that you’re worthless, son, look at the Yaozhi crest. It’s yours. You own it, the same way you own your name. There’s not a single fool in all of Kowloon whose family holds more history or honour than ours.

  The carved metal in the crest depicted four pillars rising to support the surface realm, encircled by sweeping, stylised swirls. The symbolism was unmistakable: the Yaozhi were the pillars holding up Kowloon, guardians of the city until it could one day rise to the surface by divine will.

  The dynasty had been toppled by adversarial dynasties a few times throughout history, but the Yaozhis always clawed their way back to the helm of Kowloon. It was as if the very soul of Kowloon was bound to their destiny, a covenant that made them the stewards and caretakers of this massive city.

  Denzhen had always told Keung, others might grasp power for brief moments, only the Yaozhi’s understand the heartbeat of Kowloon. Even the ones that never end up taking the throne.

  And now, standing in front of that emblem, Keung wondered, Why can’t I feel it?

  Have I ever really felt Kowloon’s pulse?

  He depressed the door’s button, summoning a gentle buzz that echoed within the chamber beyond.

  The door slid open to reveal General Denzhen seated behind his desk, composed and commanding in his natural element, in stark contrast to his son standing battered and bruised against the doorframe.

  General Denzhen’s eyes widened. His son’s appearance was truly a sight to behold.

  Denzhen lurched from his chair, the heavy desk scraping against the ornate tiled floor in his haste. The stoic, commanding general was nowhere in sight. Instead, a father raced to enfold his injured child, the boundaries of rank and duty dissolving at that moment.

  ‘Oh, my precious boy!’ Denzhen’s voice cracked as he ran over and pulled him close. ‘My heart sank when I watched that video. I could not finish it!’

  The strength of his grip mirrored the power he was known for, but Keung could feel it strain under the torrent of emotions.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Denzhen whispered into his son’s hair. ‘I don’t deserve your forgiveness. You warned me about the Rioters, again and again, and I still sent you.’

  Why am I wallowing in self-pity, Keung thought, as his father’s unexpected pleas for forgiveness edged him closer to tears.

  Pulling back, General Denzhen’s hands, roughened from years of service, cradled Keung’s face. His commanding eyes were dulled and misty with emotion, seeking to reach Keung’s eyes through the swelling. ‘Why haven’t you taken the EM therapy?’

  ‘Am I being taken out of my team?’ Keung asked.

  The general hugged Keung again. ‘Not for long. I promised Qin Shi I’d take charge of your training until you’re ready to face the Yang once more.’

  Keung shook free of his father. ‘Training? What training? Am I being demoted to Centurion?’

  ‘Of course not. You’re a Lieutenant. Captain Aiguo and I have come up with a special combat course for you.’

  Keung took a step back. ‘But Yutai needs my help.’

  ‘He has help,’ Denzhen said, his voice low. ‘But who will help my son when he cries out my name and I’m not there to answer?’

  ‘What?’

  The general’s expression blurred for a moment as struggled to remain composed. ‘You don’t think I could read your lips in that video?’ His voice caught. ‘You said, “Ba, where are you? Please help me.”’

  Keung froze. He couldn’t even remember speaking those words. The worst part was that it sounded like something he’d say.

  ‘It’s only for a few weeks—’

  ‘Did you even think you ask me?’ Keung burst out. ‘I’ve never heard of any lieutenant go back to training like this!’

  Denzhen straightened, placing a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘I’m not going to risk losing my only son to a trivial fistfight in some backwater alley! I know you’re conscious of your image, being coddled and doted on by me… I understand how much drama and gossip the Kingmakers can conjure up when the dining hall conversations dry up, trust me. Before you, it was my name they tainted with humiliating gossip. And before me, it was someone else. You don’t think there will be a new target after everyone’s moved on from you? Their idle chatter, Keung, it’s like wind passing between the groundscrapers. Always present, but fleeting. It could never hope to leave a mark.’

  ‘What are you talking about? When has anyone ever spoken ill about the great General Denzhen? You’re a wartime legend!’

  ‘I’m a failure!’ Denzhen shout out, eyes locked on Keung’s. ‘I’ve failed armies. Your own mother. I’m watching myself fail as a father!’

  ‘That’s not true—’

  ‘Why do you think she died, Keung? Why do you think you never got to see your ma’s face?’

  ‘She died because… because of childbirth.’

  ‘She died because I abandoned her!’

  Keung frowned, shaking his head as his father continued. ‘Before your grandfather fucked everything up with his royal regicide, we had this beautiful, beautiful plan, Keung. I didn’t fall in love with a noble woman, the daughter of a lord of some powerful district. I married a commoner. And she gave me the best gift in all of Kowloon – a chance to escape this cursed Yaozhi name.’

  What’s he saying? These were words he never thought he’d hear from his father.

  ‘I planned to take her family name. We were going to move, raise you together somewhere in Yi Tsin with her parents and sisters! But the war hit. First, she begged me to leave it all behind and go with her to her parents. But when I couldn’t ignore the bloodshed I was hearing about, she begged me for something even smaller; just to stay by her side until you were born.’ Keung watched his father’s face slowly crumble, his eyes welling briefly, but the general hardened his jaw once more, straightened his shoulders, and took a ragged breath.

  ‘I felt like your grandfather, the Emperor, gave me no choice. He thought the dynasty’s existence was being threatened. So I led the 501st brigade of Kingmakers into south Kowloon, leaving your mother behind. Childbirth didn’t kill your ma, Keung. Heartbreak did. I did.’

  ‘Ba…’

  Denzhen was quiet for a brief moment. ‘You’ve read what happened next, I’m sure. I abandoned my post the moment I got word she wouldn’t make it. Ran all the way back to Yu without telling a soul. Within the next few cycles, the 501st was wiped out. A senseless slaughter of boys who had followed me into the dark.’

  Keung said nothing. His face was carved in stillness. Every ache, every bruise on his body felt suddenly irrelevant.

  ‘You don’t know the things I’ve had to hear in the dining hall since the war ended, Keung. Jian, Han Xi, Qin Shi – they were the real legends. Time has allowed people to move on from my actions, and now I alone remember them.’

  In that moment, a new understanding dawned. His father’s journey as a Kingmaker had been far more painful than his own. The Yaozhi name weighed on them both.

  ‘My son,’ Denzhen began. ‘I need you to have faith in me. Pay no heed to any poisonous backbiting you overhear. The hot topic of today will soon become the old news of tomorrow. Let them ridicule you, for I’d rather have them make fun of my son while he’s alive than mourn your loss and regret the cruelty they showed you while you lived. You are why I keep fighting. I care for nothing else. I once abandoned my loved ones for the sake of Kowloon, but now I spit on this city and every single person in it.’

  ‘Father…’

  ‘I made a promise… a posthumous promise to your mother. I’m going to protect you with my life. I’m not here to ask you for permission, son. Please.’

  With a heavy heart, Keung closed his eyes and exhaled, his trust in his father’s unwavering love and guidance reaffirmed.

  ‘All right, Ba,’ he murmured, ‘I’ll train with you and Captain Aiguo.’

  Denzhen and Keung embraced once more before Keung retreated to his bedroom chambers, a fatigue washing over him like a gentle tide. The emotional release from his conversation with his father had been far more potent than he had anticipated. It was a salve not just for the embarrassment of that wretched video, but also the immense pressure of being disliked by every Kingmaker.

  In the solitude of his dark room, as sleep embraced his broken body, Keung felt a rare sense of lightness and ease. His dreams carried him to a simpler time, a time when his biggest concern was winning a game of Thieves and Bandits against his two cousins, Prince Tsai, Princess Aisin, and his friend Cheng.