The night is quiet with the kind of stillness that feels sacred. As if the world itself is holding its breath. Hua Cheng sits beside you, his usual aura of untouchable confidence softened, as if it’s weighed down by something unseen. He stares into the distance, eyes dark and contemplative, and you wonder if he’s somewhere far from this place and time.

“I was not always… this,” he begins, his voice low but steady. “I did not start with strength or respect. There was a time when I was seen as nothing more than a nuisance, a shadow that no one cared to notice.”