This One Dares Not

The afternoon sun was venomous, and the bluestone path scorched.

Li Tui followed behind Zhao Yuanchong. The injury from last night felt like fine needles pricking deep into his Dantian, pulling with a sharp pain every time he drew a breath. His face remained expressionless, though there was more sweat on his temples than usual.

Zhao Yuanchong was in a foul mood. He had been left feeling stifled by that remark from Zhao Hao at the academy, and returning home only made him feel like he had lost face; the more he thought about it, the more he seethed. Just past midday, he had called Li Tui and a few lackeys out, heading straight for the depths of the market district.

"Young Master, where are we going?" one lackey asked cautiously.

"To have some fun," Zhao Yuanchong squeezed the three words through his teeth.

Li Tui knew exactly what was going on. This "fun" was, in all likelihood, Zhao Hao.

Stopping before the gate of a semi-dilapidated courtyard at the end of the alley, Zhao Yuanchong halted. He didn't knock; he simply raised his foot and kicked.

The wooden door slammed against the wall, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Inside the courtyard, Zhao Hao was shirtless, punching a wooden post. Sweat streamed down his lean, muscular back, glistening in the sun. Hearing the commotion, he stopped and turned around.

Seeing Zhao Yuanchong, his expression didn't change, though his eyes darkened.

"Yo, working hard, aren't we?" Zhao Yuanchong crossed his arms, tilting his head to look him over. "Too bad, no matter how hard a dog works, it can never become a wolf."

Zhao Hao grabbed a sweat towel to wipe his face. "Still better than some people who aren't even as good as a dog."

The words struck Zhao Yuanchong like a knife to the lungs. His face turned livid in an instant, and a lackey behind him named Zhao Qi had already lunged forward.

"You're courting death!"

Zhao Qi had practiced martial arts for a few years; this pounce was fast and fierce, his fist aimed straight at Zhao Hao's face.

Li Tui watched from behind. He could clearly see the openings in Zhao Qi's technique; if it were him, he could have taken him down in one move in at least three different ways.

But Zhao Hao's response was even more decisive.

The moment the fist was about to smash into his face, Zhao Hao shifted his body half a step to the right. The wind of the punch just barely grazed his ear.

Zhao Qi's punch missed, his momentum carrying him forward. Zhao Hao's left hand moved like lightning, clamping onto his wrist and twisting it downward.

Crack.

The sound of the bone dislocating was crisp and loud.

Zhao Qi's scream was stifled in his throat as Zhao Hao's knee slammed into his stomach, followed by a stomp onto his upper back.

Zhao Qi lay on the ground, motionless, blood foam bubbling from his mouth.

The courtyard fell into a deathly silence.

The remaining lackeys looked at one another, none daring to move. Zhao Qi was the best fighter among them, and he had been crippled in a single exchange?

Zhao Yuanchong narrowed his eyes, staring at Zhao Hao. That series of movements just now was impossibly fast, as if... as if he had known exactly how Zhao Qi would throw his punch.

"All of you, attack together," his voice turned cold.

The lackeys braced themselves, spreading out to surround Zhao Hao.

Zhao Hao stood his ground, panting twice. Sweat dripped from his chin, hitting the bluestone and drying almost instantly in the heat.

The four of them lunged at once.

Zhao Hao moved.

He didn't meet them head-on, instead ducking low and sliding through the gap between two of them. With a backhand, he threw two punches, slamming them into the others' ribs.

With two muffled thuds, those two turned pale, clutching their midsections as they knelt.

The remaining two panicked, their forms falling into disarray. Zhao Hao didn't give them a chance; he kicked one over and slammed his elbow into the neck of the last one.

That man didn't even groan before collapsing limply.

After finishing, Zhao Hao straightened up, his chest heaving violently. He wiped the sweat from his face and raised his eyes to look at Zhao Yuanchong.

That gaze was very calm, so calm it made one's spine go cold.

Zhao Yuanchong felt a surge of rage under that stare and turned his head to glance at Li Tui beside him.

"You," he lowered his voice, "go. Kill him."

Li Tui didn't move.

"Did you hear me?" Zhao Yuanchong's voice grew colder. "Spirit pills, cultivation techniques—I'll give them to you. If you get this done, I will go and beg my father to grant you the surname Zhao."

Granting a surname.

The two words were like a stone dropped into water. Li Tui's fingers, hanging at his sides, twitched slightly.

Zhao Yuanchong saw it, a curve forming at the corner of his mouth. He knew it; no one could refuse this.

"What?" he leaned half a step closer. "Are you afraid?"

Li Tui raised his eyes, his gaze lingering on Zhao Yuanchong's face before shifting to Zhao Hao in the courtyard.

Zhao Hao was still standing there, sweat-drenched hair plastered to his forehead, his chest rising and falling with his breath. After that flurry of movement, his own exhaustion was not insignificant.

Li Tui could feel a stinging pain in his meridians. Setting aside whether he could win if he made a move now, there was definitely some secret on Zhao Hao right now...

Otherwise, based on his level from a few days ago, how could he have dealt with these lackeys?

"Young Master," Li Tui spoke, his voice somewhat hoarse, "killing someone here is not appropriate."

"What is not appropriate about it?" Zhao Yuanchong stared at him, "If I say it's appropriate, then it is."

"He is a registered disciple of the clan," Li Tui said, "If he dies here, the Law Enforcement Hall will investigate."

"I'll take the blame."

Li Tui was silent for a moment.

He could feel Zhao Yuanchong's breathing becoming rapid; that was the fire of rage burning. He could also feel the gaze Zhao Hao cast from the courtyard, pricking his back like needles.

"Young Master," he finally said, "now is not the time."

Zhao Yuanchong stared at him for a long time.

Long enough that the few lackeys still able to stand began to tremble.

Then Zhao Yuanchong laughed, a short, mocking sound: "Wang Yuan, you are afraid."

Li Tui did not speak.

"Fine." Zhao Yuanchong nodded, the smile on his face vanishing, leaving only coldness, "You've got guts."

He stopped looking at Li Tui and turned to leave. His footsteps were heavy, as if he wanted to crush the stone slabs.

The few lackeys scrambled to get up, dragging the unconscious Zhao Qi along as they followed.

Li Tui trailed at the back, and before turning away, he glanced at Zhao Hao once more.

Zhao Hao was still standing there, his eyes as deep as a well.

The two locked eyes for only an instant before Li Tui looked away and hurried to catch up with Zhao Yuanchong.

Outside the alley, the clamor of the market flooded back into his ears. Zhao Yuanchong walked quickly, his robe hem fluttering.

Li Tui followed behind him, feeling the stinging pain in his meridians grow more pronounced. The tension of the recent standoff had strained his nerves and aggravated his injuries.

Reaching a corner, Zhao Yuanchong suddenly stopped and turned to stare at Li Tui.

"Why didn't you move earlier?" he asked, his voice very low.

Li Tui lowered his eyes: "This servant dared not."

Zhao Yuanchong froze for a moment, staring at Li Tui for a long time, his expression slowly darkening.

"Dared not?" he repeated, his voice not loud but carrying suppressed anger, "When you were lecturing me earlier, why didn't I see you lacking the nerve?"

Li Tui lowered his eyes: "Earlier I was advising the Young Master, but now we are talking about killing; it is different."

"Don't give me that!" Zhao Yuanchong suddenly stepped forward, almost pressing against Li Tui, "When I tell you to act, you act. Do you understand?"

Li Tui did not retreat, only lowering his head further: "This servant understands."

"You understand nothing!" Zhao Yuanchong stared at Li Tui's bowed head.

He took half a step back and curled his lips into a cold smile.

"Fine, Wang Yuan, you've got guts." He turned around, his voice airy, "We'll see about this."

The words were abrupt and lacked context, but Li Tui understood the meaning behind them.

He did not reply, only quietly following half a step behind Zhao Yuanchong.

The two walked back one after the other. This time, Zhao Yuanchong walked at a steady pace, his back straight, but Li Tui could feel his tense shoulders. It was the look of someone bottling up rage with nowhere to vent it.

Arriving at the side gate of the Zhao Mansion, Zhao Yuanchong paused but did not look back.

"Get back and stay there." He tossed out these words and walked straight through the gate, his robe hem brushing the threshold and stirring up a breeze.

Li Tui stood outside the gate for a moment, waiting for the breeze to pass, before turning to leave.