Crimson Rain Sought Flower • Hua Cheng

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“You bastard! You cheated!”

A masked ghost shot to his feet, one fist slamming against the table hard enough to rattle the chips scattered across it.

“I– This...”

Hua Cheng inclined his head, his brow raised as the man stammered over his words. Under his gaze the man seemed to pause. A hand worrying at the brow of his mask as he eyed the dice intently.

Then, his head lifted once more, meeting his gaze head on.

“This has to be rigged!” He cried, “There’s no way! There’s simply no way I could lose three rounds in a row!”

“Why not?” a voice called from the crowd. “You’ve been losing all night.”

“I demand a rematch!” The ghost insisted.

“You already had one!”

“Then another!”

A ghost immediately ridiculed, “What are you going to bet? The clothes on your back?”

A burst of laughter rose from the ghosts huddled around the table.

The gambler stiffened, his attention shot back down to the dice he’d rolled mere moments ago.

It was a familiar sight. The initial confidence, the anger, the bargaining. It was all a part of the reactions he’d come to expect from those who’d challenged him. This ghost proved no different.

Hua Cheng remained comfortably seated at the end of the long table. His head rested lazily against his hand. He had long since stopped pretending to hold interest in the match. The wagers were ordinary, inconsequential to himself and far less exciting than he’d hoped.

The gambler's increasingly desperate attempts to salvage his dignity, however...

Tapping the cards in his hands against the table, he smirked to himself.

“I have no need for his clothes,” Hua Cheng said.

The ghosts around them murmured in agreement. Some openly mocked the man's attire, while others began tallying his mounting losses.

These days it had become rare for Hua Cheng to enter the Gambler’s Den, much less participate in matches himself. So, when he’d taken his seat, Ghosts of all sorts had abandoned their own tables to crowd around and watch. Those too far back craned their necks, while those at the front leaned in shamelessly. Commenting on the draws in real time.

“I saw the cards! He didn’t cheat!” A ghost called out from the crowd.

In an instant, the gambler perked up. Reinvigorated by the notion.

Another ghost however, didn’t hesitate to add fuel to the fire, “How would you know? Can you even see the table from that far?”

“He cheated!” The gambler accused, “I swear he cheated!”

“What reason would I have to cheat?” Hua Cheng mused.

“I... You...”

As he started to stammer once more, a few ghosts began to snicker.

Hua Cheng's expression never changed as he fixed his gaze upon the man ahead of him.

“You’ve bet your life’s worth on this round, haven’t you?” He asked.

With a flick of his wrist, he threw the cards in his hands down onto the table. A perfect draw.

“Yet, you’ve lost. Continuously.”

The spectators were quiet now, their attention fixed solely upon him. His gaze dropped to the scattered cards, then to the mountain of betting tokens piled beside them.

“I’ll accept a rematch,” He added thoughtfully. “But.”

His gaze lifted now, his expression betraying nothing of the amusement he felt.

“What more do you have to bet?”

The wind howled, sending the loose strands of his black hair adrift. From where he stood, the mouth of the cave appeared barren upon first glance. Engulfed in darkness. But, if one only listened closely, the faint noise of voices could be heard deep within.

Months had passed since he’d last sought out this particular ghost. Initially he hadn’t needed to.

After his first greeting, Ghost City had remained relatively hassle free. A small inconsequential part of him had wished it would stay that way. After all, it was less work for him.

As he entered, the silver chains on his boots clanged against one another, clinking crisply with every step. One pale hand reached out, trailing against the cold, damp stone as if to steady himself.

The deeper he ventured, the more putrid the air grew. Thick with the stench of decay. A reliable sign he was headed in the right direction.

Night-Touring Green Lantern, a name as distasteful as its owner.

From the corpses strung high among the trees, left to drip carelessly onto the forest floor, to the riots his followers delighted in starting throughout Ghost City, Qi Rong had proven himself less an equal than a tiresome nuisance.

Truly, a ghost barely worth the effort he was extending in this visit.

Rounding a corner and squeezing through a narrow gap, Hua Cheng slowed to a stop.

His hand found the hilt of his scimitar with ease. His fingers lingered against the cold metal of E-ming, suppressing the all too familiar rise of irritation that accompanied any thoughts of Qi Rong.

As his sight adjusted, the scene grew clearer.

Inside the cavern the wet sheen of stone shone with a flickering green hue, illuminating the figures, both familiar and unfamiliar.

A cackle echoed through the cavern, drawing Hua Cheng's attention to the figure strutting up the stone steps. The ghost in green slumped lazily into the carved stone before speaking,

“Those simpletons at Ghost City wouldn’t know a favour if it slapped them in the face!”

Hearing those words, Hua Cheng felt the corners of his lip quirk up. Shifting his weight to lean against the cold stone, as he observed.

Beneath Qi Rong's frenzied boasting came another sound. The choked back sobs and whimpers of mortals off to the side. Bound and forced into a line to be examined by those lower-levelled ghosts. At a glance, Hua Cheng held no doubt these mortals were intended for the kiln.

A revolting taste. Even for a ghost.

Disgusting.

The thought settled in his mind easily. He cared little for mortals. Yet there remained something particularly distasteful about seeing them collared like livestock. Especially by someone like Qi Rong.

Inclining his head, his eye narrowed as he considered the scene a moment longer. When his attention drifted back to Qi Rong, his jaw set stubbornly.

“That pretentious fuck Hua Cheng,” Qi Rong said.

His feet kicked up, resting leisurely against the back of his lackey. The others gathered around him, preening and pampering him as he reclined back. One, looked ready to agree, but the instant their mouth opened they were cut off.

“Ghost City has gone to shit. No–” His hand slapped up, shooing off one of the ghosts. “Actually it’s always been shit!”

After a long moment, Hua Cheng pushed off the stone wall. His steps remained steady, echoing off the walls as he straightened. He wasn’t in a hurry, there was no need to rush something so tedious.

The disturbances within the Ghost Market had been annoying enough. If this idiot intended to drag his chaos into Ghost City, he’d simply need to remind him of his place.

“You’re making quite the noise,” Hua Cheng’s voice rang out, cutting over the man’s cackle.

He came to a halt beneath the stone steps, lifting his chin as he assessed the scene.

Among the array of ghosts with green flames flickering above their heads, the mortals scarcely held his attention. They were merely another obstacle to account for before he broke Qi Rong and his followers apart.