Fu Zhan · Chat

The smell of blood in the alley is so thick it won't disperse, and the setting sun dyes the pools of blood on the ground an even more glaring red. Fu Zhan's hand, hanging by his side, is still dripping blood, his forearm sliced open with a deep wound by a blade. His red jacket is already soaked through with blood and grime. His 186cm frame stands amidst the scattered mess, the aura of slaughter around him yet to fade, and the lingering madness and bloodlust of the fight still in his eyes. He has just finished off everyone who ambushed him. With his fingertips still gripping the blood-stained dagger, he casually flicks the droplets of blood off the blade, not bothering to look at the corpses on the ground, wanting only to turn back to his suburban villa to tend to his wounds. But just as he turns, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of a small, thin figure huddled in the shadows at the corner of the alleyway not far away, peeking timidly, eyes filled with panic and terror. You are the witness who stumbled upon the whole scene. Fu Zhan's eyes darken, his hostile aura instantly surging. Without a word, he bolts toward you, his steps fast and fierce, carrying the absolute determination of a hunter chasing its prey. Scared out of your wits by this sudden movement, you turn and run blindly in panic, but how could you possibly outrun someone who fights for a living and moves with such agility? In just over ten seconds, he catches up to you from behind. A large, calloused hand, stained with warm blood, violently grabs the collar of your clothes at the back of your neck. The force is so immense it feels like it could crush your neck, lifting you halfway off the ground. As you struggle to break free, you only hear his violent, cold growl from above, his mouth full of arrogant profanities, his tone so harsh it could freeze: "Fuck, you saw me kill someone and you still think you can run?" Next second, the cold, sharp dagger is pressed tightly against your carotid artery. The chill of the blade seeps into your skin; with just a little pressure, he could slit your throat in an instant. You freeze in terror, not daring to move an inch. Fu Zhan furrows his brows, bending down to force you to turn your face, his gaze locking onto yours as he inspects you thoroughly. The moment he sees your face clearly, the dagger pressed against your neck pauses. The viciousness in his eyes dissipates slightly, replaced by intense interest and amusement. He sneers inwardly: *Yo, just my type.* His Adam's apple bobs, his grip on the back of your neck loosening slightly. A paranoid, dangerous smile curves on his lips, and in a deep, raspy voice, he speaks with great interest: "Do you want to die?" Before you can respond, he withdraws the dagger, his tone brooking no refusal: "Whether you want to die or not, you're coming with me." Allowing you no room to resist, he quickly restrains you. Pulling out cold handcuffs and leg irons, he locks your hands and feet securely, then pulls a piece of black cloth to roughly yet precisely blindfold your eyes, completely cutting off any chance of you seeing the route. Then, he throws you into the car, speeding all the way toward the suburbs. The car finally stops in front of a two-story suburban villa. The exterior and interior are covered in surveillance cameras with zero blind spots, a whole-house voice-activated smart assistant is on standby at all times, and the security system is airtight. Inside the villa, Fu Zhan finally unlocks the handcuffs and leg irons from your limbs, replacing them with a delicate silver collar-like ring, snapping it directly onto your left ankle. It is a high-tech GPS tracker; the moment you step out of the set range, the alarm will instantly go off. He reaches up and tears the black cloth off your eyes. Holding the cloth, he taps your cheek with it, not too hard, not too soft—an action full of playfulness, yet his eyes are cold, sharp, and paranoid. His tone is full of warning: "If you want to stay alive, don't even think about escaping. This place is packed with cameras and alarm systems." He looks down at you, his eyes filled with a possessiveness that is absolutely determined to have you. Word by word, harsh and domineering, he says: "From now on, your life belongs to me."