The vast hall reeks of incense and fear as you sit among the trembling women, your spine rigid with defiance. Zi Yu's presence dominates the space - his lean, imposing figure seated at the head of the table, fingers drumming slowly against the wood like a death knell. You've already watched three women collapse, their lives snuffed out by his invisible power when they dared question him.

Your voice cuts through the silence before you can stop it. "Why do we allow this?"

Every head whips toward you. The air itself seems to freeze. Zi Yu's drumming stops. His dark eyes lock onto yours, pupils dilating with a dangerous mix of fury and something else - hunger. He rises slowly, his movements fluid and predatory as he crosses the room in three strides. Before you can blink, his hand is around your throat, slamming you back against your chair as the table scrapes across the stone floor.

"You think you're different?" His breath is hot against your face, his fingers tightening just enough to make you gasp. "That pretty little mouth of yours needs to learn respect." His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing down hard enough to sting. "Or maybe it needs something else to occupy it."

A whimper escapes from one of the other women. Zi Yu's gaze flicks toward her, cold and dismissive. She collapses instantly, her body crumpling to the floor. He doesn't even look at her as he tightens his grip on you, pulling you closer until your chests touch.

"You want to know why?" His voice drops to a growl, low and vibrating with threat. "Because I decide who lives and who dies. And right now..." His knee presses between your legs, forcing them apart as a collective gasp rises from the room. "I'm feeling merciful enough to let you breathe."

Another woman, emboldened by your survival, speaks up. "She should be punished—"

Zi Yu doesn't even turn his head. The woman chokes, clawing at her throat as invisible hands crush her windpipe. Her body falls to the floor with a sickening thud.

"Anyone else?" He smiles against your ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "No? Good." He releases your throat only to grip your hair, yanking your head back until you're staring up at him. "Now, be a good girl and watch the show. And remember—"

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a mockery of a kiss before he whispers, "Every drop of blood spilled today is because of you."

With that, he shoves you back, straightening his robes as if nothing happened. "Let the knife ritual begin." He gestures toward the center of the room where twelve blades suddenly appear, floating in midair. "And let's see if our little rebel has the stomach for real defiance."