Chapter 15

“Eleventh Brother, why run?” Zhao Ti walked behind him, hands behind his back, matching his pace.

“You brute, don’t play dumb!” Zhao Ji fumed. “I won’t stoop to your level—leave now, and I’ll pretend this never happened!”

“Hahaha.” Zhao Ti laughed. “No need. I came specifically to show you this brute—why leave so soon?”

Zhao Ji had reached the back door of the hall. Hearing this, he snapped: “If you don’t leave, I’ll report you to the palace!”

“Hmph… Reporting is a child’s trick. You’ve left the palace and established your own residence—why act like a child now?”

“You! I don’t care—I’m reporting you!”

“Then so be it…” Zhao Ti said coolly. “Follow the Prince of Duan wherever he goes—and smash everything he touches.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“You—you, Zhao Ti, you thief!” Zhao Ji had already run outside, his voice cracking with tears. “Someone! Help me! Protect me!”

A few steps away, Li Yan arrived with two eunuchs, and seeing the scene, he froze: “What—what is this?”

“Li Yan, you know martial arts—drive them off! I’ll reward you handsomely!” Zhao Ji sighed in relief and ducked behind Li Yan.

The bruise on Li Yan’s forehead from his morning kowtow had not faded; though he’d used internal energy to heal after returning, the blow had been too severe—the swelling still bulged like a fleshy horn, comically grotesque.

Hearing this, he inwardly groaned, gritted his teeth, and stepped forward: “Prince Yan, please stop.”

“Li Yan, don’t be polite with him. You’re my subordinate—I order you to act. Drive them out, show no mercy!”

Zhao Ti said nothing, glancing at Zhou Dong, who immediately said: “Your Majesty, allow me to teach this eunuch a lesson.”

Zhao Ti smiled. “Guangzu, don’t hold back.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Su Da, who had been eager to step forward, saw Zhou Dong approaching and sneered at Li Yan: “Hairless one, you’re lucky—I’d have snapped your neck myself!”

Li Yan had been insulted by him all day; now the memory stoked his rage. “You oaf, if you dare strike, I’ll crush your dog’s skull!”

Su Da sneered, utterly contemptuous.

Zhou Dong carried no weapon. He specialized in spear techniques, but the spear was too cumbersome to carry, so he relied instead on his fists and claws—his hand techniques were famed in the martial world. His Eagle Claw Flip Hand, thirty-six forms, derived from Shaolin’s Dragon Claw Art, yet forged his own path: not only dislocating joints and snapping bones, but also tearing, gripping, and crushing with devastating force.

Without a word, he glided forward, hands twisting into claws, whistling with force as he struck at Li Yan’s throat and abdomen.

Li Yan didn’t underestimate him. His martial arts came from outside the palace—his family had run a martial school; his father was a famed master in the capital, always brawling. Once, he challenged another school and suffered mutual injuries, dying days later from his wounds.

They’d left behind some property and land, but Li Yan, as a youth, neglected his duties, spending his days with idle ruffians. Within two years, he squandered the family fortune. Hoping to turn things around at the gambling den under Zhouqiao Bridge, he lost everything—even his last home.

With nowhere left to turn, the palace was recruiting eunuchs; a neighbor who knew his father took pity and helped him gain entry—cutting off the roots of worldly ties—and so he entered the inner court.

He had natural talent in martial arts. Once inside, free from outside distractions, he devoted himself entirely to advancement and training. Over ten years, he surpassed his father—now stronger than the once-brawling man who’d died.

Yet even so, he was no match for Zhou Dong. In two or three moves, Zhou Dong seized his shoulder with one claw, gripped his belt with the other, lifted him high, and slammed him down—bones shattered, tendons torn. He groaned twice, then fainted.

Zhao Ji stared wide-eyed behind him. How could he be so weak? He’d often watched Li Yan spar with palace guards—ten men couldn’t touch him. Yet now, in an instant, he lay crushed. Why?

Since leaving the palace, he’d brought palace guard officers—but he’d always disliked martial men. Eunuchs practicing martial arts was unavoidable, but the palace guards he found distasteful, so he banished them from the mansion, summoning them only when needed. Seeing Li Yan felled, he felt the world collapse.

The two remaining eunuchs rushed to support him, but he shook them off, turned, and ran.

A few steps ahead, several attendants rushed to meet him—somehow alerted, they carried weapons, shouting: “Your Highness, don’t fear! We’ve come to protect you!”

Zhao Ji’s mind still replayed Zhou Dong lifting and slamming Li Yan. Looking at these attendants—useful for amusement, but utterly lacking martial skill—he shuddered: “Run! Run fast!”

The attendants had some loyalty, but only so much. Seeing the pursuing crowd grow, and Su Da leading them like a demon, they lost heart and joined Zhao Ji in panicked flight.

Bai Zhan called from behind Zhao Ti: “Your Majesty, should we go seize the Prince of Duan directly?”

Zhao Ti said: “Let him run. Take men to find the Prince of Duan’s soldiers who attacked the servants and guards—beat them all back. Also, find out where his study is.”

Bai Zhan bowed. He assigned men, then grabbed two fleeing young eunuchs. “Where is the Prince of Duan’s study?”

The young eunuch, terrified, stammered: “Not far—just nearby.”

Bai Zhan ordered: “Lead the way!”

The eunuch sensed trouble and hesitated. Su Da stepped forward, kicked his leg, and the eunuch yelped: “Ow!”

Su Da waved his steel blade. “Try to trick me, and I’ll chop off your other two legs too!”

The eunuch’s face twisted in tears. “No, no! I’ll lead you right away!”

Zhao Ji’s legs trembled, his strength gone. He panted: “What does this brute want? Tomorrow, I’ll report him to the palace—ask the Empress Dowager to punish him without mercy!”

One attendant glanced back, delighted: “Your Highness, the pursuers are gone!”

“Gone?” Zhao Ji turned—sure enough, no one followed. He exhaled, collapsing to the ground. “Where’d they go? Did they leave the mansion?”

The attendant replied: “They must’ve left. After chasing so long, Prince Yan and his men must be tired—probably back home drinking tea.”

“Tired? That brute doesn’t know tiredness!” Zhao Ji snorted—then suddenly froze, face draining of color. “No! Disaster!”

The attendant was confused. “Your Highness, what disaster?”

Zhao Ji pushed himself up with both hands. “That brute said he’d smash things. If he can’t catch me—he’s not smashing the mansion, is he? Come! All of you—follow me!”

“Your Highness, where to?”

“To the study! My most treasured things are there—if that brute destroys them, I’ll kill him!”

Zhao Ji’s face turned ashen. He staggered toward the study. Soon, he reached the vicinity—by lantern light, he saw a crowd gathered before the door, coming and going, hauling things out.