After Transmigrating, My Younger Brother Always Tries to Seduce Me - Chapter 27

Although a few people were displeased by Zhao Ta’s words, they still didn’t favor Zhu Zhenzhen. To be fair, Zhao Ta was at least one and a half times her size.

To onlookers, even if Zhao Ta was a scoundrel, he was still a man, naturally possessing superior physical strength compared to women. If she rashly accepted the challenge, she would undoubtedly be his defeated opponent.

The surroundings fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Over twenty pairs of eyes stared at her, almost certain she would refuse.

Zhu Zhenzhen raised her voice and declared, I accept.

The crowd froze in shock, disbelief etched across their faces.

Zhao Ta was equally stunned, but he quickly burst into laughter, clapping his hands. He hunched forward, leaning in close to Zhu Zhenzhen with a lewd grin, his already narrow eyes squinting even further. Good! You’ve got spirit, girl!

His eyes darted to Song Heng as he continued, But just fighting is boring. How about we raise the stakes? Dare to bet on the outcome?

Song Heng frowned.

Zhu Zhenzhen paused mid-step onto the arena, her dark brows arching slightly as she asked, What do you want to bet?

If I win, I’ll make that man over there kowtow twice and apologize to me. He’ll say… ‘Uncle Zhao, I was wrong.’ His eyes gleamed with malicious intent.

Zhao Ta still harbored a grudge against Song Heng. Being humiliated in front of so many people with a single strike had instantly erased any lingering mockery from his mind. Now, he craved revenge, wanting Song Heng to taste the same public humiliation.

Zhu Zhenzhen saw through his scheme immediately. He was trying to use her to insult Song Heng.

Almost instinctively, she retorted, You’re not worthy.

She’s standing up for me, Song Heng thought.

Today, she had chosen a simple white gauze robe and a red-and-white silk ribbon to tie her hair. A peachwood hairpin secured her flowing black tresses, strands of which brushed against the ribbon and wrapped around Song Heng’s fingertips.

That touch of red drifted onto Song Heng’s palm in the gentle breeze. Glancing sideways, he saw her bewitching face now frighteningly cold, her lips pressed into a tight line.

As she grew older, the beauty that had been evident in her youth blossomed into a breathtaking, nation-toppling splendor. Unlike the gentle, demure features typical of Great Sheng women, her beauty was strikingly aggressive. Staring into her amber eyes for too long, one might inexplicably feel they held the warmth of spring waters, captivating the heart like the bewitching spirits of folklore.

He found himself inexplicably focused on her crimson lips as they parted, her melodious voice ringing in his ears.

If you lose, she purred, you’ll… strip naked and crawl around the arena three times like a dog. How does that sound?

The crowd nearly dropped their jaws in shock.

This woman, who appeared so delicate, possessed a surprisingly bold demeanor. Such a humiliating and vulgar proposal rolled off her tongue as casually as if it were her natural way of speaking.

The vibrant silk ribbon slipped from his fingers, falling obediently to the ground.

Zhu Zhenzhen advanced step by step toward Zhao Ta, forcing him to unconsciously retreat.

Each word rang clear Dare you or not?

If you enjoy lewdness, then strip naked and let everyone feast their eyes on you.

Think you can humiliate Song Heng? Not on my watch.

Would he accept or refuse? The weight of the crowd’s gaze pressed down on him like an invisible force.

Zhao Ta refused to admit that for a fleeting moment, he had wavered, genuinely believing this woman could defeat him.

In the next moment, he shook off the thought and steadied his mind. How could I not dare? he replied.

In stark contrast to the tense atmosphere outside, the main hall of Prince Jin’s Manor was oppressively silent.

The Steward bowed respectfully, his eyes fixed downward, his body bent so low his head nearly touched the Young Prince’s waist.

Young Prince, he murmured.

Everyone in the Capital knew the Young Prince loathed being the center of attention.

His face was peerlessly handsome, so striking that even without looking, the Steward could imagine the impatient expression etched upon it.

Yet he carried himself with an otherworldly grace, his neck arched like a crane’s, radiating an ethereal aura. He favored white robes and a vegetarian diet.

But he was no crane.

Once, a man had stared at his face for too long. The Young Prince had gouged out his eyes and hung them from the eaves of Prince Jin’s Manor, where they swayed with the red lanterns in the wind.

A new servant, curious, glanced up only to have his head forcefully lowered by a nearby attendant. His head remained bowed, his lips sealed, not daring to utter a word.

How fares the Martial Arts Tournament? a languid voice drifted down from above the Steward’s head.

A slender, jointed hand removed the ink-black and gold outer robe, tossing it carelessly to the floor. The jade-inlaid belt around his waist proclaimed his noble status.

Prince Jin never personally attended the Martial Arts Tournament his trusted aides always oversaw the entire process.

But this year, it was his turn.

The steward bowed deeply, his breathing slightly labored. As usual, the first round of matches should be nearing its end.

The number of participants was kept consistent each year, making the schedule predictable.

The man nodded and strode down the long corridor.

Only after he had been gone for some time did the young servant dare to lift his head, catching his breath. After a moment, he snapped at his colleague, Do you have a death wish? The Young Prince is not someone you can stare at! Watch your eyes!

The newly arrived servant immediately fell silent.

Yun Jianhe paced, calculating the time. He had been delayed by trivial matters and arrived just as the tournament was nearing its conclusion.

If his calculations were correct, the matches should be completely finished by the time he reached the arena.

Injuries and even deaths were common occurrences at the Martial Arts Tournament, nothing unusual. His task was simple secure the top three winners after the competition ended.

This task wasn’t difficult in fact, it grew easier each year as everyone knew why they were there. Yet even this minor matter could drive Prince Jin’s subordinates to fight tooth and nail for the opportunity.

The Martial Arts Tournament wasn’t just a talent selection process within Prince Jin’s ranks, overseeing this process meant earning the prince’s trust.

It was ironic, really. Despite being bl00d relatives, they had only now…

He tugged at the corner of his mouth, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. The corridor leading to the rear courtyard was deep and shadowed. After passing through a grove of trees, the open courtyard would soon come into view.

In previous years, the tournament had been a cacophony of noise—clashing weapons, shouts of combat, and curses filling the air. But today was eerily silent. The courtyard was utterly still, as if no one were present.

Yun Jianhe’s expression hardened as he strode out of the corridor and into the shaded area.

His hurried steps slowed as he took in the scene before him.

On the bloodstained arena, a lone woman stood motionless.

Her posture was ramrod straight, her head bowed as she gazed downward.

With her back to him, her face remained hidden. She raised a delicate hand to adjust the peachwood hairpin in her hair, her wrist slender and pale. After a few breaths, she smoothed her disheveled strands back into place.

In stark contrast to her graceful composure, the man on the ground was a picture of agony. His brow furrowed, his face contorted in a grimace of unbearable pain. He was curled up like a cooked shrimp, clutching his groin with both hands.

After a moment’s thought, Yun Guanhua recognized the man.

Zhao Ta, a native of Fuzhou, was a cunning and deceitful scoundrel. His only act of daring was violating a young lady from a noble family. Yet, he was also a coward, terrified that his crime would be exposed and bring the wrath of the powerful clan upon him. In a panic, he strangled the young lady to death and fled.

But secrets can’t stay buried forever. Zhao Ta was soon hunted down by the noble family. In addition to official wanted posters, clandestine bounties were placed on his head.

A hundred taels of gold for his head, a thousand for his capture alive.

Zhao Ta had managed to evade capture for so long due to his considerable skills. Yet, this frail woman seemed to have defeated him.

Yun Jianhe’s gaze shifted between the woman and the man on the ground. Between the possibility of the woman’s genuine skill and Zhao Ta’s blundering defeat, he preferred to believe the latter.

According to custom, the defeated party would face their fate, while the victor could retire to the side chambers to rest. In the past, after each round, the fighters on the arena were exhausted, while the crowd below rubbed their hands in anticipation, eager for their turn.

But today, the crowd’s enthusiasm seemed different. It wasn’t the thrill of battle they craved, but something else entirely.

Yun Jianhe frowned, puzzled. The crowd’s expressions were more akin to those watching a captivating drama unfold.

Little did he know, the real spectacle was only just beginning after the battle’s conclusion.

Zhu Zhenzhen reached out her hand. Before she could touch Zhao Ta, he flinched backward.

Her hand fell short, irritating her. She grabbed him roughly and hauled him to his feet.

Zhao Ta, dazed and disoriented, clutched at his lower body, his eyes vacant and unfocused. The look of pain and panic on his face filled her with immense satisfaction.

Her kick had landed perfectly.

Zhu Zhenzhen’s face loomed close to Zhao Ta’s as she asked softly, Brother Zhao, can you still stand?

Early summer had just arrived, and the sunlight was warm. Yet her words, though spoken with concern, sent Zhao Ta trembling as if he were trapped in the depths of winter.

The beautiful face before him now twisted into a grotesque mask, extinguishing any lingering desire. His mind replayed the images of Zhu Zhenzhen’s assault over and over.

Zhao Ta had initially fought with all his strength, aiming for a swift victory. But Zhu Zhenzhen denied him that opportunity, evading every move he made. As long as she refused, he couldn’t even touch the hem of her silk skirt.

Now, all his attacks had failed, but the match wasn’t over. The more Zhao Ta grew impatient, the more flaws appeared in his technique, and he gradually lost ground under Zhu Zhenzhen’s relentless assault.

By the end, he was blinded by rage. With a furious roar, he unleashed a burst of strength and struck Zhu Zhenzhen’s shoulder. Before he could savor his triumph or follow up with another move, a sharp crack echoed through the arena.

The pain hadn’t yet registered in Zhao Ta’s brain. A flicker of confusion crossed his face before agony erupted from his wrist, instantly overwhelming his senses. His vision went blank for a few seconds as he froze, stunned, on the ground.

In that moment, he felt his wrist bones snap, and vaguely sensed something icy burrowing into his arm.

Before he could cry out, Zhu Zhenzhen twisted his bones again at a sharp angle.

The second injury drained the color from his face, and a scream tore from his throat. But her movements were small and lightning-fast, so the crowd below couldn’t see what she’d done. They only saw Zhao Ta clutching his wrist, howling in pain.

In an instant, the crowd’s gazes turned contemptuous.

Though they couldn’t see what the woman had done on the arena, Zhao Ta’s reputation had preceded him. For him to be so easily terrified by her was truly pathetic.

Zhao Ta, however, had no attention to spare for the crowd’s reaction. He tried rotating his wrist and found it still functional, but his relief quickly soured.

Though his hand could still move, each motion brought excruciating pain, as if a needle were stabbing into his arm and stirring his nerves.

After years of hardship and struggle, what suffering hadn’t he endured? Yet this pain was beyond human endurance.

Suddenly, a flicker of fear stirred within him, and his gaze began to waver when he looked at the woman.

He could only endure Zhu Zhenzhen’s taunting words whispered in his ear, too afraid to retaliate. For every inch she advanced, he retreated three.