Scott's entire body arched backward on horseback. His spear flew from his grasp, spinning as it plunged three inches into the bridge deck, its shaft humming with vibration.
By the time he steadied himself, the tip of the Heavenly Frost Sword was already pressed before his throat.
A bead of ice had condensed upon the sword tip, and within it was sealed a thread of sword energy.
With a flick of Bing Yekong's wrist, that bead of ice could pierce straight through his throat.
Scott froze.
The bridge remained silent for quite a while.
Then Scott slowly removed his visor. The face beneath was unexpectedly young, no more than thirty or so, with regular features and three old scars across his brow. His grayish-white eyes looked at Bing Yekong, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he were smiling.
"Three exchanges," he said. "I lost."
Bing Yekong sheathed his sword and stepped back. The blade tip hung low, but his guard remained up.
Scott swung down from his horse, bent over to pick up his spear from the bridge, and casually hooked it onto the saddle.
Then he took out a palm-sized iron plate from his waist and tossed it to Bing Yekong.
Bing Yekong caught it and turned it over.
The iron plate was entirely black. A number was engraved on the front: "9507." On the back was a skull with its mouth open, clenching a sword between its teeth.
"What is this?"
"A number plate." Scott mounted his horse again and turned its head around. "Once you enter the city, every legal resident has a number. 9507 is yours. Remember it. In Slaughter City, your number is your name."
"Legal resident?"
"Only those who make it past me count as legal." Scott rode back two steps,