Scarface's huge figure disappeared into the bright light at the end of the alley, and even after he was gone, the heavy pressure he left behind still clung to the place, pressing down on Li Feng until it felt hard to breathe.
Li Feng leaned weakly against the cold wall, his back scraping against damp bricks, each rough breath carrying the smell of rust and rotting garbage, his chest rising and falling unevenly as pain and exhaustion piled together.
A torn bundle of rags lay abandoned in the mud nearby, soaked and useless, like a reminder of what happened to those who couldn't survive.
To live, crawling alone wasn't enough, and relying on the broken piece of iron pressed to his chest was even more foolish.
Scarface.
Black Tiger Gang.
The two names echoed in his head, mixing with memories he couldn't forget, the shine of three copper coins, the warmth of blood spilling from Old Beggar's throat, his parents' blood staining the stone floor, all of it twisting together until his thoughts burned hot and cold at the same time.
He had to find Scarface.
No matter the cost.
Once that thought settled in his mind, his fear and exhaustion were dragged along with it, leaving him no room to retreat.
Li Feng sucked in a sharp breath, the cold air biting into his lungs, forcing his body awake as he pushed himself up from the ground, his legs shaking but his eyes locked firmly in the direction Scarface had gone.
He slipped along the wall, keeping to the shadows, moving lightly and carefully, his worn straw sandals making soft splashing sounds in the muddy water, sounds he tried desperately to keep quiet.
He didn't dare follow too close, Scarface's sharp gaze from earlier still lingering in his mind, so Li Feng made himself smaller, using corners, broken crates, and piles of trash to hide as he followed, never taking his eyes off that broad back ahead.
Scarface walked calmly, unhurried and steady, each step heavy and confident, as if nothing in these streets could threaten him, and he never once looked back.
The two lackeys were already gone, likely off extorting money elsewhere.
Li Feng followed at a distance through twisting alleys and crowded streets, the noise of shouting vendors, arguing customers, and restless animals blending together until it became his cover, allowing him to fade into the crowd like just another nobody.
Only his eyes remained sharp and focused, fixed on Scarface.
Gradually, they moved away from the busy market and into quieter streets, the air changing as the smell of sweat and cheap wine faded, replaced by rust, old leather, and the sour stink of decay.
The buildings grew smaller and more broken, their doors shut tight, their walls stained and lifeless.
Scarface finally stopped at the back entrance of a large compound.
It stood out from the surrounding ruins, its walls old and peeling but solid, the tall wooden doors tightly shut and studded with thick copper nails, giving off a rough, intimidating presence.
Above the door hung a black plaque painted with a fierce red tiger head, its fangs bared, eyes wide, the unmistakable mark of the Black Tiger Gang.
Two gatekeepers leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, their gray shirts open at the chest, scars visible across their bodies, their lazy expressions hiding sharp eyes that watched the street like stray dogs guarding territory.
When Scarface approached, they straightened instantly, smiles spreading across their faces.
"Brother is back!"
Scarface only grunted and pushed past them, the heavy door creaking open before slamming shut behind him.
Li Feng hid behind a stack of broken baskets that stank of urine, his heart pounding wildly as he stared at the door, the tiger emblem, the sudden change in the gatekeepers' attitudes.
This was the Black Tiger Gang's base.
He stayed curled in the shadows, afraid to move, the dagger under his robe pressing coldly against his chest while his thoughts raced.
Rush in and die?
Beg?
Say he wanted to join?
He was barely more than a freezing street rat.
Time passed slowly, the wind cutting through the alley and numbing his toes, while the gatekeepers relaxed again, chatting casually and glancing around now and then.
Li Feng's lips turned purple, his teeth chattering as he realized he couldn't wait any longer.
If he stayed, he'd freeze or be found, either way ending up no better than the boy from the alley.
To live, even crawling was fine, as long as he could reach those steps.
He took a deep breath, the cold air clearing his head, then crawled out from hiding.
He didn't stand, instead dropping to all fours and moving forward slowly, his body low and pitiful, mud soaking his trousers as the rough ground scraped his hands and knees raw.
He crawled like a worm through filth.
"Where'd this thing come from?" one gatekeeper snapped, waving him away.
Li Feng kept crawling.
"Are you deaf?" the other man said, stepping forward and lifting his foot.
Suddenly, Li Feng lunged forward and slammed his forehead hard against the stone steps.
Thud.
The sound echoed sharply, freezing both men in place.
Li Feng didn't lift his head, blood trickling down his face as he pressed himself harder against the stone, ignoring the pain as he forced out a broken, hoarse plea.
"Sir… please… Brother Scarface… give me something to eat…"
He stayed there, unmoving, blood slowly spreading across the steps.
The gatekeepers exchanged looks, disgusted but unsettled.
They had seen beggars before, but few willing to bleed like this.
"Useless," one spat. "Scarface won't bother with trash like you."
The other laughed lightly. "You want to join the Black Tiger Gang? What can you do, kid, can you kill?"
Li Feng trembled, his forehead still pressed down, his hand gripping the dagger beneath his robe until his knuckles turned white.
Then the door creaked open.
Warm air spilled out, thick with sweat and alcohol.
A tall shadow fell over him.
His boots stopped inches from Li Feng's head, the pressure crushing down as Scarface's rough voice sounded above him.
"What can you do?"