Ye Qingge, still holding Ji Yue in her arms, was about to step into the Yuding Pavilion — Northern Moon Kingdom’s most famous restaurant — to “dine and dash,” when something caught her eye.

At the edge of the bustling street lay a narrow, winding alley, eerily dark, stretching endlessly into the shadows. A faint chill rose from within.

Gazing into that abyss, she felt an inexplicable pull — a strange sense of destiny, as if some hidden thread was leading her there.

Without even realizing it, Ye Qingge’s feet began to move.

Step by silent step, she entered the darkness.

From deep inside came a chaotic roar — cheers, shouts, the clash of combat, and the guttural howls of beasts. The air was thick with the scent of blood and excitement.

At the alley’s end stood a black stone gate, carved into the shape of a skull. Before it waited a woman draped in sheer black gauze.

Beneath the veil, her figure was enticing — glimpses of pale skin visible through the thin fabric.

The woman glanced at Ye Qingge. Her voice was soft but cold.

“Your identity?”

“Mercenary,” Ye Qingge replied calmly.

The woman raised a delicate, jade-like hand.

Her slender finger pressed against the skull’s forehead. A dark bluish light pulsed beneath her touch — then the stone gate sank silently into the ground.

A spectral glow filled the doorway.

The woman nodded toward Ye Qingge, wordlessly granting passage.

Ye Qingge stepped through.

Instantly, a wave of bloodlust assaulted her senses.

She found herself standing atop a set of obsidian stairs, looking down into a world that reeked of death and fortune.

Below her, crowds pressed against rows of fighting pits.

On the platforms, men battled beasts in fights to the death.

Around them, gamblers screamed and wagered — staking gold, glory, even their own lives on every swing and strike.

A single thought seared through Ye Qingge’s mind:

The Beast Arena.

The words surfaced from the memories of the body’s original owner, the former Night Ye Qingge.

Back then, the knowledge had been faint — a passing rumor. But now, standing here, it felt hauntingly familiar.

To the north, a row of iron cages stretched along the wall.

Inside were chained monsters — massive, snarling, and wild-eyed.

But not all cages held beasts. Some held humans.

Men and women alike, their eyes burned crimson, hollowed by hatred after despair.

Ye Qingge’s chest tightened.

In her past life — the modern world — she’d seen this too.

She had been one of them once: caged, broken, used as entertainment by the powerful.

A man approached her from the crowd.

He wore a black brocade robe, his manner refined, cultured — almost gentle.

“Is this your first time at the Beast Arena?” he asked politely, bowing slightly.

When his gaze drifted to the creature in Ye Qingge’s arms, his expression shifted. Ji Yue, half-lidded and lazy, gave him one disdainful glance — and the man’s heart skipped.

This beast… so intelligent!

“Not exactly,” Ye Qingge replied with a faint smile. “But this is my first time visiting the arena in Northern Moon Kingdom.”

The man’s suspicion deepened. A woman this composed — and that creature beside her — they’re far from ordinary.

“In that case,” he said smoothly, “allow me to guide you. There’s a match tonight — a mid-tier spirit beast battle.”

Ye Qingge nodded.

In a place like this, it was best to move carefully.

The man’s attire and demeanor suggested wealth — perhaps influence. Following him might keep unnecessary trouble away.

They walked south through the arena’s sprawling corridors, where the roar of the crowd grew louder.

People instinctively stepped aside when the man passed — a sign of status.

But when their eyes fell on Ye Qingge, veiled in black and holding her red-furred companion, curiosity and whispers followed.

“I’m Xiao Rufen, heir of the Xiao family,” the man introduced himself as they walked. “But please, just call me Rufen. And may I ask how to address you, miss?”

Earlier, he’d called her “Esteemed one” out of formality. Now, he’d softened it to “miss” — a subtle gesture of closeness.

“Nameless,” Ye Qingge said without hesitation.

That was what they had called her once — a number, not a name.

And “Night Ye Qingge”… that name never truly belonged to her.

Born without a name — perhaps that was its own kind of freedom.

“Miss Nameless,” Rufen echoed, momentarily stunned by the simplicity of it. Then he smiled. “The next fight won’t start for a while. Would you care to rest in a private room upstairs?”

“Thank you, Brother Xiao,” she said softly.

The two simple words — Brother Xiao — struck him more deeply than any flattery could.

Refined, respectful, yet natural — her composure left him quietly impressed.

The second floor was a world apart from the chaos below.

Scarlet carpets lined the winding corridors, and enormous night pearls glowed overhead, bathing everything in soft, silvery light.

Rufen stopped at the third room and pushed open the door.

Inside, the décor was elegant yet understated.

From the window, one could see the entire arena floor.

Two men sat before that window.

The one on the left wore a white robe, his face sharp and cold as carved jade. His presence was frigid — too beautiful, too distant, like frost on a blade.

Beiyue Ming.

Ye Qingge’s lashes lowered slightly. Of course. Of all people… fate just had to bring us together again.

The other man, lounging to the right, wore a loose crimson robe, his collar undone so that his collarbone and chest gleamed under the light. He was casually sprawled across an ivory chair, sipping from a wine jug.

When he saw Rufen and Ye Qingge enter, he slammed the jug down, wiping his neck with a grin.

“Well, well! So that’s why you’ve been hiding away, Rufen. Didn’t know you were keeping such a beauty in your golden cage!”

Rufen coughed awkwardly, shooting him a glare.

“Mo Xie, mind your tongue. This is a friend of mine. Don’t be rude.”

He turned to Ye Qingge with a polite bow.

“Miss Nameless, forgive him — he means no harm. We jest often.”

“No offense taken,” Ye Qingge replied with a faint, amused smile.

Rufen gestured toward the chairs, and she took a seat by the window.

Servants soon brought tea, wine, and snacks.

Ye Qingge only sipped her tea, eyes scanning the arena below — that cruel, familiar stage of blood and chains.

Ji Yue, however, showed no restraint. The little fox-cat sprawled across the table and began devouring everything within reach.

“Miss Nameless,” Mo Xie said, leaning forward with sudden interest, “is that… a spirit beast?”

He reached out to pat Ji Yue’s head.

Ji Yue rolled his eyes, dodging deftly. His voice echoed dryly in Ye Qingge’s mind.

Girl, tell him this: I’m not interested in men. And I’ll thank him not to confuse me with some low-grade pet.

Ye Qingge bit back a laugh.

“Not a spirit beast,” she said lightly, stroking Ji Yue’s fur. “He’s my friend. And… he doesn’t particularly like being touched by men.”

Mo Xie’s face went blank. A dark line of embarrassment crossed his brow.

Even the elegant Xiao Rufen burst out laughing, while the cold Beiyue Ming — who had been silently sipping tea — allowed the faintest curl of amusement to touch his lips.

Then Ye Qingge’s gaze froze.

Across the arena, inside one of the northern cages, stood a young man — bloodied, shackled by chains through his limbs, his tattered clothes hanging from his bruised frame.

His eyes were the color of the deep sea — calm, piercing, utterly still.

While every other prisoner glared with hatred, this boy simply looked at her.

His stare was like a blade — silent, sharp enough to slice through her heartbeat.

Ye Qingge’s hand trembled slightly as she lifted her teacup.

She forced herself to sip calmly, as though nothing had happened.

“So, Young Prince,” Mo Xie said lazily, scratching the back of his head, “what’s tonight’s match again? Some kind of snake?”

“Seven-Winged Crimson Thunder Serpent,” Beiyue Ming answered coolly. “Lightning element.”

“Hmm… and which slave do you think they’ll throw in against it?” Rufen asked.

“Number Two,” both Mo Xie and Beiyue Ming said at once.