TRBDM -Chapter 148 Hard-Boned

“Zhao Jingheng, if you want to play mind games with me, you’d better weigh the consequences.”

Zhao Jingyan stood up, fast and ruthless, drawing the sword from a nearby guard and pressing it against Zhao Jingheng’s neck.

The blade was razor-sharp, and Zhao Jingyan did not hold back.

Instantly, a line of blood appeared on Zhao Jingheng’s neck, a drop sliding down the tip of the sword.

Zhao Jingheng didn’t move an inch, his expression cold and composed, his jaw set into a straight line.

“Third Prince, I’m telling the truth. Killing me won’t help you.”

The muscles on Zhao Jingyan’s face twitched violently. “Hah, killing you would be easier than crushing an ant.”

A murderous aura surged like a wave.

Zhao Jingheng endured it, letting the blood stain his collar.

The hidden guards on the roof drew their swords, ready to intervene at any moment.

“Third Prince, if you kill me, don’t ever think about ascending to the throne.”

Zhao Jingheng’s words made Zhao Jingyan pause mid-action. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

There was no fear in Zhao Jingheng’s eyes, which made Zhao Jingyan suspicious. “Did Father make some sort of agreement with you?”

Zhao Jingheng said nothing.

The more he remained silent, the more Zhao Jingyan felt there was something unspoken in his words.

The two of them were at a standstill; neither moved.

Suddenly, the sword at his neck was pulled away and thrown to the ground with a clang.

“Someone, tend to the Tenth Prince’s wound.”

Zhao Jingyan sat back in his chair, staring at Zhao Jingheng with murderous intent.

He had never looked at Zhao Jingheng properly before.

Zhao Jingheng had always been so unnoticeable that he wasn’t even qualified to be Zhao Jingyan’s ally, let alone his opponent.

The last time they tried giving Zhao Jingheng Hehuan poison, it was Zhao Jingtian’s idea.

Zhao Jingtian and Zhao Jingheng had been at the Imperial Academy together, making him the only prince who had ever paid attention to Zhao Jingheng.

Zhao Jingtian loved building factions for the Third Prince. Watching the fight for the throne intensify, he couldn’t bear to see Zhao Jingheng staying aloof and pure, so he deliberately dragged him into the mess, forcing him to take sides with the Third Prince.

Unexpectedly, it didn’t work.

Through that incident, Zhao Jingyan realized that his usually silent Tenth Prince had a spine of steel.

Now, even Father held him in special regard; it was possible he had been biding his time all along.

For the first time, Zhao Jingyan realized he had misjudged him—Zhao Jingtian had been right.

“Third Prince, don’t underestimate Zhao Jingheng just because he’s quiet. Who knows what he’s holding in reserve?”

Zhao Jingyan had assumed Zhao Jingheng, alone and isolated, would be easy to manipulate.

But Zhao Jingheng’s words—“you’ll never sit on the throne”—immediately struck at Zhao Jingyan’s most sensitive nerve.

And indeed, they were effective.

The cloth around Zhao Jingheng’s neck had been roughly bandaged with glaring white strips, which soon soaked through with blood.

“Everyone, get out.”

With a furious shout from Zhao Jingyan, everyone lowered their heads and left.

Only the two of them remained in the room.

Zhao Jingyan’s gaze coiled around Zhao Jingheng like a venomous snake, sticky and wet, as if it could peel a layer of skin off him.

“Third Prince.”

Zhao Jingheng took the initiative. “You’d better let me go. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee what consequences may follow.”

“You’re threatening me?”

“I wouldn’t dare. I’m just stating the truth. As for what I discussed with Father, I won’t tell you—kill me if you want, and you still won’t get a single word from me.”

Zhao Jingheng was even firmer than Zhao Jingyan had imagined.

Could it be that Father really entrusted him with something?

Zhao Jingyan hesitated.

He, a man who normally acted without pause or doubt—strike if you strike, kill if you kill—had never hesitated before.

But the lure of the throne was too strong; he had to hesitate.

If Zhao Jingheng truly held something extraordinary, he feared the throne might fall into someone else’s hands.

“Zhao Jingheng, you’ve got guts. Fine, I won’t touch you today, but if I find out you played any tricks, don’t blame me for forgetting our brotherly ties.”

Brotherly ties… is that even a thing?

Zhao Jingheng’s expression remained calm, as if it wasn’t him bleeding from his neck.

He glanced at the empty teapot and said, “Thanks for the ‘treatment,’ Third Prince. Farewell.”

Zhao Jingyan gritted his teeth and let him go.

Zhao Jingheng had forced open a narrow gap for himself in the midst of a dead end.

The barefoot have no fear of those wearing shoes.

Everyone wanted to know what Zhao Kuang had told him. Since Zhao Kuang wouldn’t say a word, he might as well make up a story, a “lifeline” for himself.

After all, no one could tell truth from lies.

Unless they asked Zhao Kuang directly—but they wouldn’t.

Zhao Jingheng left the teahouse, with the Third Prince’s men watching him from behind.

Jianxi, seeing the wound on Zhao Jingheng’s neck, covered her mouth in shock. “Your Highness… you’re hurt!”

Zhao Jingheng’s eyes were cold as starlight. “Move faster.”

“Yes.”

Jianxi immediately urged the driver to speed up.

The carriage rocked, and the curtain was blown aside by the wind. From afar, Zhao Jingheng saw several fast horses approaching—the riders were the Crown Prince’s trusted men.

Through the bustling crowd, the horses slowed.

In a flash, Zhao Jingheng gave rapid instructions: “Jianxi, keep the carriage heading to the Imperial Academy. If anyone asks about me, say I’m at the Third Prince’s residence.”

With that, Zhao Jingheng jumped down from the carriage and disappeared into an empty alley.

Zhao Kuang’s move was ruthless, utterly disregarding Zhao Jingheng’s life.

Having just escaped Zhao Jingyan’s clutches, he was now blocked by the Crown Prince—why should anything go their way?

All he wanted was to live.

Zhao Jingheng weaved through the alley, deliberately avoiding people and heading for a secluded spot.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, he passed an old residence and suddenly stopped.

He turned to look—two faded characters on the plaque read: Xiang Residence.

Footsteps echoed faintly in the alley. Zhao Jingheng moved and leapt into the courtyard.

Clang.

A silver dagger hit the ground.

Dou Shuxin stared at Zhao Jingheng, who had seemingly fallen from the sky, her mind blank, frozen in place.

Zhao Jingheng hadn’t expected Dou Shuxin to be there either; she was equally stunned.

After a moment, Zhao Jingheng said, “Sorry, I thought no one was inside.”

He couldn’t have said that—it was wrong to trespass, even if the house was empty.

Dou Shuxin’s heart nearly jumped into her throat.

Her thoughts were tangled.

She spotted a flash of red and ran to Zhao Jingheng, worry in her voice: “You’re hurt! You’re bleeding from your neck.”

Zhao Jingheng touched his neck indifferently and took two steps back. “Sorry to intrude. Farewell.”

He was walking on a razor’s edge, each step fraught with danger; he couldn’t let Dou Shuxin get caught up in this.

“Your Highness, don’t go!”

Dou Shuxin somehow found courage she didn’t know she had and stood directly in his way.

“You’re injured. I’ll clean your wound.”

The cut on Zhao Jingheng’s neck was deep; the bright red blood on the white cloth was shocking.

Dou Shuxin’s heart ached slightly—why was he always hurt whenever she saw him?

Zhao Jingheng’s eyes were restrained, and with a hard heart, he pushed her aside: “It’s a minor wound. No need to trouble yourself.”

He started to leave.

Suddenly, A soft, icy-cold hand grabbed his, trembling and pleading: “Don’t go.”

Dou Shuxin’s strength was minimal; Zhao Jingheng could have easily shaken her off without effort.

But at this moment, he had only one thought in his mind: her hand… is so cold.