Chapter 60

Chapter 60

The military provincial graduate, fearing disgrace and damage to his reputation, wanted to back out but was trapped by the commission he had already accepted.

Unexpectedly, Shen Shuangcheng, driven by sheer terror and blurting out whatever came to mind, actually issued such a vile command to him.

Seizing this moment, the military provincial graduate spun around, brows snapping together, and said in a hoarse voice: "Young Master Cheng, you sure don't treat me like an outsider."

He gritted his teeth, spitting out each word, "I've practiced martial arts since childhood to right wrongs, earning my title with these fists—not through underhanded tricks!"

Shen Shuangcheng was startled and quickly stepped forward to bow and apologize, saying he had been momentarily cowardly and muddle-headed, begging Juren Zhao to just ignore what he said like a dog barking.

Juren Zhao grabbed his robe draped over the railing, flung it over his shoulder, and gave a fist-and-palm salute to Third Master's son: "I'm outmatched, and I'm already exhausted today. I'm done here—please seek another capable hand, young master."

With that, he turned without looking back, storming off to find Shen Zaishan outside the arena and give him a piece of his mind.

Thanks to Shen Shuangcheng's low blow, the military provincial graduate finally found a legitimate excuse to retreat, though it nearly made Shen Zaishan pass out from anger.

After seeing off the military provincial graduate with a clasped fist, Shen Zaishan stared at Shen Shuangcheng from afar, his eyes bugging out like brass bells.

Shen Shuangcheng didn't dare look up, his whole body went numb.

His father didn't even know yet that he had lost twenty-five taels of silver betting against Shen Lian's family.

When he got home after the spring sacrifice, his old man would break his legs.

Fear and despair instantly turned into a tidal wave of rage.

Turning his head to look at Shen Lian, who was hanging on the railing, clapping and cheering, Shen Shuangcheng walked over to him.

Shen Lian had always been carefree and quick to let things slide, but the scary moment on horseback earlier had him on edge—he turned his head sensing danger.

Sure enough, seeing Shen Shuangcheng approach, Shen Lian gave him a dirty look: "Stay away from me."

Watching that "Master Wangchuan" on the field flatten one cousin after another like it was a game, Shen Shuangcheng stood still, trying to play it cool: "Shen Lian, I sent my military provincial graduate packing. For this wrestling match, I'm going up myself. You got the guts to face me? Let's have a match, cousin. If I lose, I'll throw in another ten taels. If you lose, we call the whole bet off."

Shen Lian tilted his head, curious, sizing up his cousin, then turned to scan the crowd.

"Oh, that Juren Zhao really did take off." Shen Lian turned back, edging closer to his cousin, wary: "Tomorrow's spring sacrifice has polo too—aren't you gonna have him help out?"

"What's the fun in letting outsiders fight for us?" Shen Shuangcheng said with a look of disdain, glancing at Han Wangchuan who was tearing through the field. "It's just that Uncle only brought in a military licentiate, and my dad, to save face, went and hired a military provincial graduate. It's lame to me—at our own family's willow-shooting banquet, if outsiders fight every round, whose win is it anyway? This round I'm going up myself. Enough talk—you got the guts to fight me?"

"Uh..." Shen Lian looked up, thinking it over with a grin.

Shen Shuangcheng's lips were dry from nerves: "If you're a real man, quit stalling."

"Fine." Shen Lian took a deep breath and announced: "I'll go up there and fight you."

Shen Shuangcheng's eyes lit up, full of hope!

"But..." Shen Lian flashed a sly smile, squinting as he declared loudly: "My friend hasn't been defeated yet. By wrestling rules, if you take him down, I'll go up against you in the next round. Good luck, little bro—you're so manly, beating my friend should be a cakewalk, hahahahahaha! Beat him, and you get to challenge me!"

Shen Shuangcheng's face went green with rage.

Shen Lian kept twisting the knife: "We're brothers after all, so don't say I didn't warn ya—once you're on that field, you better keep your distance. My friend doesn't know his own damn strength. Last time, a bunch of guys from a pharmacy came to my house looking for trouble, and my friend handled them without breaking a sweat. When I went out to look, the ground was soaked in blood—scary stuff."

The more Shen Shuangcheng heard, the more rattled he got. He snorted coldly and ran off.

He wanted to bail, but his father blocked his path outside the arena, whose murderous glare sent him back.

Scared and desperate, he had no choice but to steel himself and study Han Wangchuan's fighting style.

The cousins who'd been knocked off earlier came back without a scratch—at worst, they'd taken a tumble and had sore butts.

The sixth one up was a scrawny young cousin who'd just hit a growth spurt. Scared out of his wits, he ran around the field like a headless chicken.

Running while looking back to check on his opponent, he didn't see it and ran straight into the pillar at the edge of the field.

That "Master Wangchuan" had been playing with him, chasing him around like a game, and even yelled "Hey! Hey!" to warn him as he was about to hit the pillar.

The cousin, even more scared, ran faster. Han Wangchuan suddenly flashed up beside him, reaching out to put his hand in front of the kid's head.

With a dull thud, the kid's knee slammed into the pillar first, and his head, carried by momentum, snapped forward—caught right in the opponent's palm. He ended up hurting himself, clutching his knee as he hobbled off.

The cousins around found it hilarious, all letting their guard down.

Amid the laughter, Shen Shuangcheng started to think he might be safe.

That Han Wangchuan, though he'd tricked him into betting, he still had some standards—he hadn't actually hurt a soul. This wrestling match seemed even less physical than in past years, with no real contact or hardcore grappling.

Han Wangchuan's fighting style wasn't all that damaging, but it was brutally humiliating. Pretty soon, nobody wanted to step up, and even the military licentiate waved his hand with a bitter smile and conceded.

Shen Shuangcheng had no choice but to grit his teeth and walk onto the field. Before his feet even touched the ground, he was already planning his escape.

His father had made it clear: no stepping out of the ring on purpose, no faking a fall.

He'd have to let this Master Wangchuan blow off some steam, take a few hits, and then hit the ground—or his old man would break his legs when he got home.

The referee waved his hand, and the match started.

Shen Shuangcheng gave the usual fist salute, but the "Master Wangchuan," who had returned the salute to everyone before, didn't bother—just smiled, his eyes cold.

Before stepping up, Shen Shuangcheng had been planning how to drag it out and make the fight look decent without embarrassing himself.

But the second he lowered his hands, the guy three steps away lunged, closing the gap in a blink.

Even up close, there wasn't a sound.

His movements were impossibly light—from a distance, they looked almost graceful, especially next to the cousins who stood there like wooden posts, making the whole thing look ridiculous.

Now that Shen Shuangcheng was in the thick of it, he realized his cousins hadn't been scared stiff or slow.

They'd been turned into statues by this "Master Wangchuan's" terrifying speed.

Now it was Shen Shuangcheng's turn to be the post.

His eyes were still locked on his attacker when a knuckle slammed into the hollow above his left collarbone with a thunk.

A scream like a stuck pig erupted from every nerve in his body.

The searing pain from the pressure point in his collarbone shot through half his body in an instant, and the muscles in his left arm spasmed out of control, making him fling his arm around wildly.

Tears, snot, and drool all ran down his face.

The crowd outside watched, curious and confused—only a few had seen Master Wangchuan close in and seem to tap Shen Shuangcheng's shoulder.

He'd done this same playful move on the other cousins before.

They hadn't felt any pain, so they figured Shen Shuangcheng's agonized scream was just him being scared, and soon they were laughing again.

Shen Shuangcheng clutched his left shoulder, unable to cry out in pain. He'd screamed his lungs out, yet no one came to stop this living demon in front of him.

The searing pain robbed him of all thought. Just as his vision began to clear, he saw his opponent flex his wrist again, curling his hand into a fist with the middle knuckle jutting out on purpose.

"Ahhhh!" Pure survival instinct kicked in, and Shen Shuangcheng's mind went blank. His arm twitching, he grimaced and wailed as he ran.

Every time he made a break for the edge of the arena, his opponent read his move, cut him off, and sent him running the other way.

As he fled, his opponent's knuckles and toes kept jabbing Shen Shuangcheng's back and the insides of his shins.

The strikes were so light and silent that the onlookers couldn't even tell he was being tortured. All they heard was Shen Shuangcheng's agonized screaming as he was chased around.

But since "Master Wangchuan" had been so friendly earlier, the crowd—like frogs in a slowly warming pot—had no idea how brutal this match really was. Instead, they were howling with laughter at Shen Shuangcheng's over-the-top expressions and screams.

Xie Yuan trailed a few steps behind Shen Shuangcheng, occasionally hitting his pressure points to keep him in agony but still able to move.

The young imperial physician stood outside the arena, clapping and cheering him on.

Xie Yuan hated looking rough in front of family and friends, so he'd never planned to cripple Shen Shuangcheng.

He wanted Shen Shuangcheng to feel the same terror and helplessness Shen Lian had felt on horseback.

The torment went on until Shen Shuangcheng tripped over his own twitching right leg.

He cracked his head on the ground and blacked out. Only then did the crowd rush in to carry him off.

The last match ended to the echoes of Shen Shuangcheng's miserable screams.

Three wins in a row.

Xie Yuan, with Shen Lian in tow, went around to the cousins and Shen Shuangcheng's father, politely collecting his winnings.

Shen Shuangcheng had lost twenty-five taels total. When Shen Zaishan heard about the bet, his lips lost all color—he hadn't brought that much silver with him. He had to borrow the favor money the clan head had collected at the willow-shooting banquet and dutifully paid "Master Wangchuan."

The cousins each owed two taels.

As they ran out of the training grounds, Shen Lian looked reverent.

What did it feel like to hold almost four pounds of silver in your arms?

Like downing eight hundred cans of Red Bull—zero fatigue.

"Why are you running?" the young male concubine asked from behind him. "Didn't we agree to split it fifty-fifty before we came? Why does Lord Shen look like he's scared I'm gonna steal the baby?"

Shen Lian hugged his gleaming four-pound "baby" tight and snuck a glance around: "Where's your carriage? Let's talk in there—it's not safe out here. My dad's a pushover; if he finds out, he'll definitely make me give it back."

The young male concubine laughed, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers. The shadow guard on standby immediately signaled the driver to pull the carriage up.

As they got on, Shen Lian couldn't move easily with the silver in his arms, so he turned to the young male concubine: "Dian Xia, can you help me lift my robe?"

The young male concubine was anything but considerate: "No, but I can help you hold the silver."

Nobody was taking Shen Lian's "baby"!

"Then forget it." Shen Lian stubbornly kicked his robe aside, climbed into the carriage, and ducked inside with his babies, settling into his seat.

Once inside, Xie Yuan kept watching the young imperial physician's blissed-out expression as he clutched the silver.

He watched for a bit, then even pulled open the window curtain behind him to let the light hit Shen Lian's face, making the young physician's contentment even more obvious.

The young physician couldn't even bear to set the silver down on the seat, cradling it in a blissful daze the whole ride.

Just sixty-one taels of silver.

In his whole life, Xie Yuan had never worked this hard for such a pittance.

But the young physician looked like all his dreams had come true.

A money-grubber who's been broke long enough really is easy to please.

On the way, clutching his hard-earned silver, Shen Lian asked the young male concubine why his cousin had been twitching and running around like he'd seen a ghost.

Xie Yuan could tell his mind was totally on the silver, so he gave a half-hearted answer, and sure enough, Shen Lian believed every word.

When they reached the manor and the carriage stopped, Shen Lian finally snapped out of his blissful haze. He looked up at the young male concubine sitting across from him: "According to the bet, twenty-eight taels of this silver should be mine. But you won all the matches—is it really okay for me to take that much?"

Xie Yuan was thoroughly amused. He knew the young physician wasn't good at small talk, but this stiff attempt at "being polite" was way too forced.

He deliberately raised an eyebrow: "Is it okay? That's for you to decide. Should you take twenty-eight taels?"

Shen Lian's face immediately fell. He looked down at his beloved baby in his arms and tried to negotiate: "I cheered really hard for you. Can I get a little bonus?"

Xie Yuan kept teasing him: "Hmm, so how much do you think you deserve?"

Shen Lian let out a couple of aggrieved whimpers. Since the carriage was small, he was too embarrassed to ask for much. "How about we talk about it after we get off!"

With that, he stood up, clutching his gleaming baby, and turned to signal the young male concubine to open the door.

Xie Yuan smiled, leaned forward, and pulled the door open—but the second it cracked open, he slammed it shut.

He reached out, grabbed the young physician by the waist, and yanked him back into the carriage, refusing to let him leave. Prince Qi instructed the driver outside: "To the Xi Manor."

Shen Lian tilted his head up from the young male concubine's arms, looking at him in confusion: "Didn't we already arrive at the manor?"

The young male concubine gazed down at him with a solemn expression and commanded in a low voice: "Not yet. Sit still."

Not yet?

When they got on, the young male concubine had clearly told the driver "return to the manor." This carriage was fast—they should have arrived by now.

If they hadn't arrived, why had the carriage stopped?

Shen Lian turned to look out the window in bewilderment.

But Xie Yuan was quicker—he reached out and yanked the window curtain shut.

Outside was the Prince Qi's manor.