Chapter 327: Fury for a Beauty
Shang Rong, the butler of the Su Mansion, was standing guard at the entrance. The moment he heard the horrifying laughter, he immediately led his men inside.
But by the time they rushed over, they were half a step too late, catching only the blurred afterimage of the heavy Taishi chair as it was hurled through the air.
Su Fengyue watched the chair fly straight toward him. His eyes widened in terror as he scrambled to his feet to dodge.
But age had slowed his reflexes. The back of the chair still slammed into his head just above the brow bone, the force of the impact sending him sprawling to the ground.
Shang Rong rushed to his side, asking anxiously, "Master, are you all right?"
Su Fengyue clutched his right brow, his head swimming. Dark red blood seeped from between his fingers, running down the back of his hand and into the sleeve of his official’s robe.
The Su family’s servants swarmed in, surrounding Prince Yong.
"Get out of my way!"
Zhao Minghong bellowed.
As the servants closed in, Zhao Minghong, incandescent with rage, felled the first man to approach him with a single punch.
One after another, they came at him, and one after another, Prince Yong sent them crashing to the ground with vicious blows.
Every one of Zhao Minghong’s punches landed with brutal force. He held nothing back, fighting with a suicidal ferocity that the servants were simply no match for.
Initially, Su Fengyue had dismissed Prince Yong as a pampered, useless peacock, not taking him seriously in the slightest.
He never expected the Prince to transform into a tyrannical, bloodthirsty lion, ready to tear to shreds anyone who dared approach.
Two of Prince Yong’s punches missed their mark, shattering a vase that stood half as tall as a man. The back of his hand was gashed by the sharp porcelain fragments, and blood dripped from the wound.
Zhao Minghong’s heart ached with such intensity that he was numb, completely oblivious to the physical pain. He continued to lash out with deadly force at anyone who dared to stand in his way.
As Shang Rong helped him to the side, a tremor finally entered Su Fengyue’s voice.
"Stop him! Now! Get more men! Go!"
A quick-witted servant scrambled up from the floor and ran to summon the household guards.
Zhao Minghong charged toward the southeast corner where Su Fengyue stood. His eyes were blood-red; it was clear he had lost all reason and was determined to fight to the death.
Standing protectively in front of Su Fengyue, Shang Rong broke out in a cold sweat at the sight of Prince Yong’s crazed expression.
Just then, Zhao Minghong’s foot slipped on something on the floor.
He glanced down. His charge came to an abrupt halt. His entire body went rigid, and the muscles in his face began to twitch uncontrollably.
With stiff, mechanical movements, Zhao Minghong bent down and picked up the silk ribbon and jade beads lying on the floor.
He was careful to avoid the blood on his hand, afraid he might stain them.
Using the golden trim of his Prince’s Robe Sleeve, he meticulously wiped the dust from the jade beads before carefully tucking them into the folds of his robe, close to his chest.
Zhao Minghong kept his head bowed, his voice like that of a demon crawling up from the depths of hell.
"Today will be the day of your death."
The brief delay spent retrieving the beads was all the time the Su family guards needed. They rushed into the room and swarmed him.
Zhao Minghong could have handled five of them without a problem, but against more than a dozen trained practitioners, he was quickly overwhelmed and pinned to the ground, held down by several weapons.
Su Fengyue’s lips were deathly pale from a combination of fear and blood loss.
Shang Rong deftly tore a strip of cloth to stanch the bleeding, but Su Fengyue waved him aside.
Leaning on a table for support, Su Fengyue staggered to his feet. He walked over to Prince Yong and sneered.
"Whose day of death did you say it was, Your Highness?"
It had been many years since Su Fengyue had tasted his own blood. He took the cloth a servant offered him to wipe away the filth and said slowly, "In my opinion, it will be yours."
Shang Rong said, "Master, he is a Prince, after all..."
The injury to his brow forced Su Fengyue’s right eye half-shut, but his left eye was wide with manic energy.
"A Prince? And what great personage is a Prince?"
"His Majesty is dead. With his passing, the Beili Imperial Family no longer has any reason to exist. It’s long past time for a new dynasty."
"If not for the fact that I have no son, someone else would be sitting on the Zhao Family’s throne by now."
Su Fengyue spoke these treasonous words openly now, without any attempt at concealment.
"A prince, flying into a rage for a beautiful woman... I can understand that."
Su Fengyue tossed the blood-stained cloth in front of Zhao Minghong’s face.
"But Your Highness simply doesn’t know what’s good for him. You should have been like Tao Wanxin—tucked your tail between your legs and acted as if nothing ever happened. That is the only way to cling to life."
At the mention of Tao Wanxin’s name, Zhao Minghong’s eyes bulged as if they would tear from their sockets. He lifted his head to glare at Su Fengyue with pure hatred, forcing the words from his throat.
"You are not worthy to speak her name!"
Seeing the look in Prince Yong’s eyes—as if he wanted to eat him alive—only seemed to improve Su Fengyue’s mood.
He chuckled. "Ah, the young are so hot-blooded. You see love as more important than life itself. I was like that once, too."
"Truly, you can hardly blame me for this. After all, how could I have known that Tao Changhai would get in your good graces and marry his unfavored eldest daughter to you as your Princess Consort?"
Standing for so long made Su Fengyue dizzy, so he walked over to the Taishi chair and sat down.
Shang Rong said, "Master, be careful. Don’t waste your breath on him. You need to treat your wound."
Su Fengyue waved him off. "There’s no rush. It’s not often I’m in such a mood, or that I find a captive audience for my old stories."
"I’m sure Your Highness is dying to know just how it all happened back then, aren’t you?"
Zhao Minghong’s breath came in ragged gasps, nostrils flaring. The veins on his forehead bulged and throbbed visibly.
Whether Prince Yong wanted to hear it or not, Su Fengyue was determined to speak.
To truly destroy a man, you must first crush his spirit.
This would inflict far more pain on Prince Yong than any physical beating.
Su Fengyue reminisced, "Little Tao was so fresh and tender back then. So young, yet she carried herself like an adult. She was so well-read... a natural grace that comes from a scholarly heart. You could tell just by looking at her that she would one day make the perfect, virtuous wife for a prominent household."
"But she was still a child, after all. She would look at strangers with such timidity in her eyes, like a shy moon hiding behind the clouds. The more you looked, the more you grew to like her."
Zhao Minghong roared, "You’re worse than an animal!"
"Those words might be better directed at Tao Changhai, Your Highness." Su Fengyue gave a strange laugh. "To blindfold one’s own daughter and send her to the mansion of a colleague... If you ask me, it was Tao Changhai who was truly ruthless, truly vicious."
Pinned beneath the cold iron weapons, Zhao Minghong shuddered. His jaw trembled, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
’It was Mr. Tao... He sent Wanyin to Su Fengyue’s bed.’
’These shameless old bastards, worse than dogs, worse than swine!’
Su Fengyue sat in the Taishi chair, crossing one leg over the other and swinging it idly.
"Though, from her reaction, it seems Little Tao didn’t even recognize me. When I saw her at the memorial hall today, I found myself wondering how she ever managed to survive all these years."
"A proper woman who loses her virtue before marriage would have thrown herself in a river to end her life. It seems Little Tao wasn’t one to abide by propriety and tradition after all."
"And one other thing has me quite curious... Is Your Highness certain that the child in her womb was yours?"
With that, Su Fengyue threw his head back and roared with laughter. Beside him, Shang Rong’s face was also plastered with a malicious grin.
Pinned down by several men armed with tridents, Prince Yong suddenly exploded with strength, struggling to rise.
His entire body trembled, like an enraged lion cornered and desperate.
Prince Yong lunged at Su Fengyue again, his face twisted into a mask of pure rage, as if he meant to devour his flesh.