Brother Flowers

"What were those two brothers muttering about?"

Heir of Prince Jing, Xiao Sheng, strained to listen, but unfortunately Zhang Yu and the other man had lowered their voices, and he couldn't make out what they were saying.

The prisoners watching from the sidelines were just as eager to know. They'd only gotten halfway through the juicy gossip before it hit a snag. It was agonizing.

Suddenly, something unexpected happened!

The burly man known as Brute Bull—whether he was blinded by lust or Zhang Yu's words had thoroughly stirred him up—grabbed Zhang Heng, who was standing at the cell door.

"You bastard, you've got the wrong person."

Zhang Heng was shocked and furious. He berated Brute Bull sharply.

He was the Fifth Young Master, the most doted-on son of the Marquis Estate. When had he ever suffered such an insult?

Humiliated and enraged, he didn't think twice. He summoned the internal energy of a Fifth-rank martial artist and swung a vicious backhanded slap at Brute Bull's ugly face!

He would teach this lowly commoner a lesson he'd never forget.

The wind whistled around his palm. It was clear that Zhang Heng, in his fury, had held nothing back.

Yet the crisp slap he expected never came.

Brute Bull's hand, like an iron clamp, moved faster despite starting later, effortlessly catching Zhang Heng's wrist in midair.

Zhang Heng's palm, infused with internal energy, stopped just three inches from Brute Bull's cheek. It couldn't advance another inch.

The immense force around his wrist made him feel as though his bones were about to be crushed.

"How... how is this possible?"

Zhang Heng's pupils contracted, his face filled with disbelief.

He was a Fifth-rank martial artist. Though he hadn't used his full strength, no ordinary prisoner could have caught his strike so easily.

Instinctively, he drove his internal energy through his body, trying to shake Brute Bull's hand off. At the same time, he turned his other hand into a fist and struck directly at Brute Bull's vulnerable ribs.

Brute Bull grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, his eyes gleaming with a mix of lechery and savagery.

He didn't dodge or evade. He simply twisted the hand gripping Zhang Heng's wrist.

"Crack!"

A faint sound of a joint slipping out of place rang out.

"Ah—!"

Zhang Heng screamed. The pain made his other punch go limp, and the twist scattered all the internal energy in his body.

To his horror, he found that the Fifth-rank internal energy he'd painstakingly cultivated for years was like paper before his opponent's terrifying, unadulterated strength—shattered at the slightest touch.

No matter how he struggled, his captured wrist remained locked in the iron grip, utterly motionless.

"What... what's going on?"

Zhang Heng was completely panicked. A terrible premonition welled up inside him.

Brute Bull was far stronger than he'd estimated.

From inside the cell came Zhang Yu's unhurried voice, tinged with a hint of mockery:

"I forgot to tell you, my dear Fifth Brother. This brother of ours, Brute Bull, has a body-tempering technique that's the real deal... He has Sixth-rank martial cultivation.

"And he specializes in external cultivation. The sort with strength enough to move mountains.

"You're a showy fraud who only just reached the Fifth Rank, boosted there by Pills. How could you possibly be a match for him?"

"I'd advise you to save your strength.

"The harder you struggle, the more excited he might get.

"Why not... enjoy this 'grand gift' I prepared for you?"

Zhang Yu's voice was calm, yet each word was an icy awl piercing Zhang Heng's heart.

"It was you?"

Zhang Heng whipped around and glared at Zhang Yu, who sat impassively inside the cell.

At last, he understood.

That was why Zhang Yu hadn't cared about his threats. Zhang Yu had seen through everything long ago and had turned the tables on him.

Unfortunately, he'd realized it too late.

"Only figured it out now?"

Zhang Yu said blandly. He looked away, as though tired of this farce.

Brute Bull had already been worked into a frenzy by Zhang Heng's struggling and shrieks. Zhang Yu's words about "enjoying" himself only made him even less restrained.

He growled and lunged like a beast pouncing on its prey, grabbing the brocade robe over Zhang Heng's chest with his other hand.

"Riiip—!"

The luxurious silk tore like rags, exposing pale skin stretched taut with fear.

"No, don't!

"Let go of me! Help!

"Mother, Sister, save me!!"

Zhang Heng let out a shrill, inhuman scream and begged for mercy, tears and snot streaming down his face. He twisted and writhed with all his might, but like an insect caught in a spider's web, every struggle was futile and laughable against Brute Bull's overwhelming strength.

Then came the sound of more clothes being ripped apart, mixed with Zhang Heng's increasingly desperate, agonized wails and Brute Bull's excited, labored breathing.

The cell and the corridor outside fell utterly silent.

Most of the prisoners who'd been eager to watch the spectacle fell quiet. Some even turned away, unable to bear the sight.

This had gone beyond mere entertainment. It had become cruel and disturbing.

Only the Heir of Prince Jing in the neighboring cell, Xiao Sheng, had initially been stunned. Then his face lit up with even greater excitement, along with a hint of morbid curiosity.

He didn't look away. Instead, he watched with even greater relish.

At the other end of the corridor, several on-duty guards had been told by Zhang Heng that no matter what commotion they heard, they were to stay calm and delay for a while. At that moment, they exchanged knowing smiles and nodded to one another.

They'd taken Zhang Heng's bribe and agreed that, no matter what happened inside, they would wait before bringing the Marquis Estate's madam and the others over.

In the side room, Qin Xuehua and the others were growing increasingly anxious as they waited.