Twelve minutes to the 13th hour, a few hours before the dimming…
‘Breaking News from Yau… we already have our journalist on the scene. Jeni, on to you.’
Jeni Laozi raised her voice to be heard above the din.
‘This is Jeni Laozi, reporting live from the Gujin Bazaar, where we’ve just witnessed the unexpected and gruesome execution of the legendary General Jian. An emotional crowd numbering somewhere in the hundreds of thousands has gathered here in the Yau capital. Truly a remarkable sight, I tell you.‘We all remember the great General Jian, who deserted his post as a Dragon of Yu two annui-cycles ago. But our older audiences may recall his pivotal role in ending the District Rebellions back in ‘63. As you can see, the Ji Sia are busy stringing his crucifix high up in the air of the bazaar…’
‘Fan, get an angle on those Luen’s, will you?’
The camera view panned upwards, showing a six Ji Sia gangsters heaving a rope, propping the cross upright. Jian’s corpse, with its missing right leg, hung stiff off the bindings holding him to the cross.
Jeni continued, her voice shaking with emotion.‘I can now confirm the executioner was none other than Keung Yaozhi, nephew of Emperor Puyin and son of the great Dragon, General Denzhen. A tough position for the general, no doubt, his son slaying the man he once considered a brother-in-arms.
‘Jian’s death has sent shock waves throughout Kowloon, with sources claiming the news has reached as far down as the Huang Wildlands. It’s uncertain how the citizens of Kowloon will react, given Jian’s complex legacy as both a legendary strategist and a recent defector to the Yang…’
‘Fan, Fan, they’re raising the crucifix now. Zoom in on Jian, if you can…’
The camera closed in on Jian rising higher and higher into the air.‘…This tragic and abrupt end to a two-annui-cycle chase leaves Kowloon in a state of uncertainty. With the revelation of Keung Yaozhi’s involvement, questions will no doubt arise about the complex web of relationships among those who still admire Jian, Keung Yaozhi, and the lords and ladies of Kowloon who are demanding retribution against the Yang. Stay tuned as we continue our coverage of this developing story.’
****
23 minutes past the 19th hour, a few hours after the dimming.
Keung’s legs burned from climbing 23 levels, leaving him breathless as he leaned against the railing. The 23rd level of the bazaar was almost eye-level with the clock, which hung from a chain affixed to the ceiling that disappeared into the darkness above. From this vantage point, he could see countless massive, hanging LED advertisement boards, and an endless river of bright neon lights below. Strangely, the noise level was still as overwhelming all the way up here.
Pivoting on his heel, Keung spotted a shop owner across the way, a serene-looking older man whose eyes widened at the sight of a Kingmaker walking into his cramped establishment.
‘Uh, hello good sir,’ he stammered. ‘Enjoying yourself up here? May I help you?’
Keung’s gaze swept over the shelves of plastic toys, key rings, stationery, and electronic gizmos. He got straight to the point, his voice urgent.
‘Did you see who was placed on the cross?’
The shop owner’s eye flicked from side to side as he hesitated, stuttering, ‘Y-yes, Jian of the Yang. Shushu and Lien announced his capture over the bazaar’s top-level speakers. They’re all celebrating back at the station, I hear.’
Shushu and Lien. Must be the local Ji Sia patrol, Keung thought. ‘Why’s Jian’s body missing? Who took him down?’
The shop owner’s brow furrowed.
‘Why, sir, I thought your people did? Three of you in trench coats rappelled from the ceiling, removed Jian, and ascended back up to Upper Gujin. It’s only been, what, barely an hour? Everyone up here’s talking about it. We thought maybe the siblings gave the order.’
Keung made a frustrated sound in his throat. Then maybe word hasn’t reached the Ji Sia yet. But a couple of rogue Kingmakers defying the local law would only make matters worse.
‘How do I get to Upper Gujin?’ he demanded.
The shop owner pointed a trembling hand toward the right, indicating along the balcony. ‘Th-there’s a fire-escape door that way sir. A red one. But I’ve never seen a soul go through it, Light knows what’s beyond. People say it’s a shortcut to Upper Gujin. Otherwise, you need to descend to bottom level of the bazaar again and find the highway.’
Keung leaned back to see whether he could spot the door and caught a flash of red for a brief second as people walked past.
Turning back to the shop owner, he forced a tight-lipped smile. ‘Thank you, sir.’
He reached into his pocket, causing the old man to flinch. When Keung extended his hand and dropped two heavy coins on the counter, the shop owner’s eyes bugged.
‘This is for your help.’
‘N-no need sir, no need. To be of service to the Kings is payment enough!’ He tried to return the coins, but Keung shook his hand and stalked off, his mind racing with what he’d just learned.
****
The red door squeaked open, revealing only darkness beyond. Keung’s silhouette cast shadows on the ground as light from behind him spilt into the mysterious space. The blaring music from the bazaar pounded at Keung’s back, but as he stepped forward and closed the door behind him, it quickly faded to muted thuds that vibrated through the walls. The air inside was sticky and humid, making it hard to breathe.
Fiddling with the side of his cap, Keung activated a strip of white light on the visor’s edge to illuminate the dark corridor. Despite the powerful beam, the light didn’t meet any wall or end; it merely faded into black as if it dared not venture further. He stood motionless for a moment, taking in his surroundings: damp concrete walls just two metres apart, their top edges stained with constant leakage, and a low ceiling made of rotten wooden beams. The smell of wet clothes and sewage hung in the air. The ground was a scribble of rough cobble stone, dust accumulating where it met the walls.
Keung could hear the squeaks of sewer rodents scurrying in the oppressive darkness beyond the reach of his light. He wished he was back in the corridors of the Yu Tower instead. He activated his holocommunicator map to check whether this decrepit route to Upper Gujin was available. As the orange holographic display appeared above his wrist, his heart sank.
No such luck. Appears I’m the first King through this area.
With a few more taps, he enabled the passive mapping tool, a feature that would document his route as he progressed. This would ensure that Keung was the last Kingmaker to navigate this path without guidance. He switched off his holocommunicator. Shoving his trench coat skirt aside, he took firm grip on the hand cannon on his hip and ventured forth.
Startled by a sewer rodent darting past, Keung swung his head around and drew his gun, only to find he was aiming at nothing. He holstered it again, a sigh escaping his lips. Living in Kowloon meant you were always surrounded by people; solitude was a luxury many craved, a feeling Keung didn’t share right now.
As the path continued straight, he began to worry if it really led to to Upper Gujin. The echoes of dripping water looped tortuously in Keung’s ears as he found no signs of stairs or ladders.
I hope my aching legs are a sign that I’m walking up an incline and not because I am unfit.
Unexpectedly, his visor light illuminated a small square opening in the right wall, concealed by a square corrugated tin sheet. The characters “Upper Gujin” were scrawled across it in white spray paint: Zhang, Gu, Jin
What a relief. Thought I’d need to stay in here longer.
Keung lifted the tin sheet and shifted it to the side, revealing a square hole that was barely knee-high. He squatted down and peered through the opening to see what lay beyond. It appeared to be a sewer, with a slow flow of water running between weathered brick walls. Concrete-slab walkways lined either side of the water, but the opening was situated in the middle of a bend. To the right, the sewer extended into darkness, while to the left, he saw a flickering light in the distance. A fire from either a bonfire or a barrel.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Gotta be people ahead.
As he glanced down the empty corridor one last time, Keung thought he heard distant, incoherent echoes of voices draw closer. Swallowing his disquiet, he moved swiftly through the opening and carefully closed the tin sheet behind him, eager to escape the eerie confines of the tunnel.
Moving forward, the echo of Keung’s footsteps filled the sewer. He glanced down to his right, seeing his visor-light glint off the green-tinged water that gently lapped against the mossy walkway. The light ahead drew closer, revealing itself to be a lit barrel.
Keung discovered it was the centre of a small slum encampment that consisted of a patchwork of tarp-like tents lined up on either side of the waterway. A few people huddled around the fire, their hands outstretched, clad in numerous layers of rugged garments. Others squatted against the wall on the opposite side, some gnawing on blackened sewer rodents, the rest staring listlessly at the murky water. The dim light of scattered barrels provided the only illumination in the encampment. It seemed the people here had adapted to a life of perpetual darkness, hunting and gathering within the vast expanse of the Gujin sewer systems.
As Keung walked through the sewer-camp, he glanced at the entrance of a partially closed tent, his visor-light shining brightly against a pair of motionless, pale legs sticking out.
Likely a corpse.
The sickly, cloying odour certainly suggested there were more dead bodies nearby. Keung wondered whether they somehow floated the bodies of the departed down into the Memorial Pipes too, or let its decaying scent attract sewer rodents, to fatten them a little before eating them.
He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of their dismal existence. They barely reacted to his presence, either too consumed by their daily struggle for survival or so disconnected from the world above they no longer understood the significance of a Kingmaker.
A hushed silence permeated the area, broken only by the gentle flow of water, the sound of chewing, and the subtle shifts of heads as a few watched Keung pass by. He forced himself to take deep, calming breaths through his mouth, and ventured on, soon leaving the sewer encampment behind him.
Minutes later, Keung spotted a faded green door on the opposite platform of the sewer. Taking a running leap, he jumped across the water to reach it. Rust and messy scribbles denoting “Upper Gujin” marred the entrance. It looked like some sort of maintenance room; however, it was locked from the other side. Undeterred, Keung kicked at the door, focusing his force near the handle. It only took a few powerful blows for it to fly open and crash against the wall on the other side.
Dust and grime coated the numerous broken consoles and machinery that had once controlled the sewer system below. Rows of rusty lockers and tarnished valves lined the walls, accompanied by an array of cryptic buttons that had long since lost their labels.
The room was a veritable graveyard of dated technology – handheld gauges, hard hats and outdated holopads lay strewn haphazardly across workbenches and atop disused consoles. The floor was littered with various measuring devices and tools, some dating back at least half a century. A thick layer of dust blanketed every available surface, permeating the stale air and making Keung cough as his visor-light cut through the murky haze.
Keung searched the labyrinth of interconnected rooms, which were all filled with similarly neglected equipment, before finally discovering a rusted-orange ladder that looked promising. He tested its structural integrity with a firm shake, relieved to find it sturdier than it appeared. Taking a deep breath, Keung climbed the ladder and attempted to lift the circular manhole cover above him.
His first try was unsuccessful as it was immediately shoved back down. Keung heard the footsteps of passersby thud against the manhole cover. He tried again, this time managing to just barely lift it before another footstep slammed it shut, hitting his head in the process.
Fortunately, on his third attempt, a foot slipped on the manhole cover above, giving Keung the opportunity to shove the heavy lid open with all his might and leap onto the streets of Upper Gujin.
Startled pedestrians stared at him, including the man who had slipped and was now sitting on his bottom. Keung swiftly kicked the manhole cover back into place and helped the man up. As the crowd resumed their activities, Keung took in his surroundings, realising he had emerged on the 60th floor of the complex, finally within the vicinity of Upper Gujin.
Keung tapped a switch on his cap and his visor-light switched off. Then he activated his wrist-mounted holocommunicator to determine his distance from the empty crucifix in the bazaar below. Looking at the three-dimensional projection of the Gujin Bazaar directly below him, he saw that he was several hundred meters off. But Keung realised there would be no point; the people in possession of Jian’s corpse would be far away from that area by now. He needed some clues as to where they might be, so decided to ask around. Three Kingmakers carrying the body of a prolific terrorist would no doubt attract attention.
Suddenly, he picked up a peculiar scent in the air – the unmistakable smell of something burning. It was a distinct aroma, considering that burning anything publicly was strictly prohibited throughout Kowloon.
Keung sniffed the air again.
Shit, I think I know what it is.
He stepped back to observe his surroundings more closely. He stood in a pedestrian mega-highway, rather than an ordinary street or avenue. The massive thoroughfare carved its way through the heart of the building, with bridges and pathways stretching out in all directions like the tendrils of a spider’s web.
The sheer scale of the mega-highway astounded him. It became clear to Keung that both Upper and Lower Gujin mirrored each other in terms of scale. A dizzying array of footbridges crisscrossed the air above in tiered layers, their sides adorned with LED screens with pixelated, ever-changing Yue characters scrolling past. Keung was still acclimating to the towering verticality of these megalithic structures outside Yu — a district that knew nothing of such heights, despite its wealth and opulence.
The oncoming stampede of pedestrians parted around Keung, no doubt recognising his distinctive Kingmaker attire. He was grateful for the extra space as it would be easier to track down Jian without being jostled by the throngs of people.
Keung attempted to follow the scent of the burning, adjusting his course when the smell grew fainter. Eventually, he spotted wisps of smoke, barely visible but unmistakable. He navigated through down the winding highway, taking a right into another corridor that led him onto a glass bridge soaring a hundred metres above another section of the mega-highway below. This route led him to a more rundown part of the Gujin complex, where traffic was sparse and the buildings displayed more exposed brick than plastered walls.
Here the smoke thickened, growing denser as he approached a small, dark alley off to the side. Wedged between two blocks of residential apartments, the alley hummed with the post-work cycle rhythm of life echoing from its upper windows: the sound of running water in sinks, the bubbling boil of stews and the murmur of entertainment consoles airing shows. Sewer rodents darted across the floor, and Keung caught sight of a dusk-cat rummaging through a large garbage bin. Yet, at the narrow passage’s dead-end were three men in gold-striped trench coats and officer caps, their backs turned to him as they watched over the flickering pyre: an illegal cremation.
Squaring his shoulders, Keung stepped forward to face the Kingmakers. He intended to reveal his intentions: to join in cremating Jian and to shield them from any repercussions afterwards.
But the moment he stepped into the alley, all three of the men swivelled their heads around, a testament to their keen Kingmaker-trained senses.
Halting barely ten metres away, Keung attempted to identify them, hoping to address them by name. The youthful appearance of the two Kingmakers on either end, with their smooth skin and well-groomed facial hair, contrasted starkly with the one in the middle, whose lined face suggested he was closer in age to Keung’s father.
The older Kingmaker’s face morphed from disbelief to rage.
‘That’s Denzhen’s spawn!’ His eyebrows furrowed so deeply they pierced the bridge of his nose, the muscles of his jaw clenching. The younger Kingmaker on the right reflected the same fury, but the one on the left just looked confused.
Not knowing any of their names, Keung acknowledged their anger and stammered, ‘Please, I understand if you are angry with me —’
‘You murdered our General!’ the one on the right bellowed. Yet the Kingmaker in the middle just continued to glare at Keung.
Keung raised his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘No, wait! Please hear me out!’
Without warning, the Kingmaker on the right bolted towards him. Keung darted out of the way, but when he looked up again, a second Kingmaker was already in front of him, swinging a fist his way. Keung barely managed to raise his arm to block, yet the very next moment, the Kingmaker he first dodged grabbed his waist and slammed him to the floor.
Unable to rise in time, Keung became the focus of their fury. All he could do was curl into a ball to protect his head from their stomps and blows, his thoughts scrambling to keep up. His eyes shut tight and the only sounds he heard were the grunts and shouts of his attackers.
‘Silver-spooned fuck! Think you’re a good person?!’‘Shouldn’t have fucking come here!’
Barely managing to crack an eye open, Keung’s blurry gaze met the enraged faces above. The third Kingmaker desperately attempted to pry his compatriots away, but to no avail. Their rage deafened them to reason.
Keung gasped for air, his breaths shallow. A sharp pain shot through his legs as if something had snapped, and an agonising sting pierced his lungs. As his pain intensified, his hold on consciousness began to slip, edging him closer to darkness.
I’m going to die. I’m going to die.
Just as Keung felt he was about to pass out, the pain suddenly subsided, replaced by adrenaline flooding his system. He felt a sense of calm wash through him, and the pain vanished. Whirring engaged somewhere near his kidneys. But the onslaught of stomps did not cease. His adrenal pumps were activating, along with something unexpected. His Eye switched on, its blue glow unnoticed by the two Kings pummelling him.
As blood gushed from every orifice on Keung’s head, his Eye worked without conscious thought, analysing the assailants through the gap between his cradling arms. Just as he received one final kick to his head, his hand shot out, unholstered his hand cannon, and fired a single shot in a lightning-fast motion.
The gunshot echoed through the alley, silencing the chaos. The sound jolted Keung from his stun, snapping him back to reality. The next thing he saw was a Kingmaker lying on the ground, a bullet in the centre of his forehead.
‘Truong!? Truong?!’ The two Kingmakers broke free of their stupor and dove down to check their comrade.
Keung staggered to his feet, heaving for breath, the smoking gun still tight in his grasp.
He retreated until his back was against the wall, his heart pounding as he fumbled his hand cannon back into its holders. His sight fixed on the limp Kingmaker on the floor.
What just happened? Why isn’t he moving?
He’d killed one of his own fellow Kingmakers.
All the while, his Eye faded from icy blue to its usual dark brown.
‘I CAN’T FEEL HIM BREATHING.’
One of the Kingmakers cradled their fallen comrade, blood dripping from the dark hole between his rolled-back eyes.
‘TRUONG IS NOT RESPONDING. CALL FOR HELP.’
The desperation in their voices tore at Keung’s heart, further emphasising the gravity of his actions, the consequences of this encounter.
Ba…Ba…I need you.