The summer heat was stifling outside Tang'an City, the capital of Da Qian. Under the blazing sun, the air wobbled with heat.
A carriage, coated in travel dust, was slowly rolling its way forward.
Despite its plain exterior, the inside of the carriage was sheer luxury.
Thanks to the Frost Array, it felt like autumn inside—cool and comfortable without a trace of summer’s swelter.
Ethan Fraser lounged back on the plush cushions, looking entirely at ease.
He was twenty-four, his features sharp and defined like they were carved from stone—thick brows, bright eyes, and a subtle smirk tugging at his lips.
It gave him a bit of a roguish charm.
“Young Master, open your mouth,” a stunningly pretty girl said as she offered him a peeled lychee.
He took the fruit without protest, and when he spit out the seed, she was already there with her smooth, pale hand to catch it.
She tossed it aside and went on peeling the next one.
Ethan pulled the curtain open and looked out the window.
Everything was familiar, yet not. It had been ten years. Home, but not quite.
Even as a prince of Da Qian, returning to the capital after such a long time stirred up a strange mix of emotions in him.
Suddenly, the carriage came to a stop. The driver called out, “Young Master, something’s going on up ahead. Gate’s blocked!”
Indeed, just ahead at the gates of Tang'an, a large crowd had gathered.
In the center of the bustle, a young man in rich robes was relentlessly beating on a middle-aged man.
As he kicked and punched, he shouted, “Damn you, how dare you kill my dog?! You think you can get away with this?! You’re dead today, you hear me?!”
The man on the ground wore rough, simple clothes. He’d curled up tightly, not even attempting to fight back. All he could do was beg and apologize over and over.
Ethan pushed his way into the crowd and saw it all—next to the man, a black hunting dog lay bleeding from two deep gashes. It was barely breathing, clearly on the brink of death.
Beside it, a little boy sobbed uncontrollably, legs bloodied.
Ethan frowned and turned to a skinny man nearby. With a half-smile, he asked, “Brother, what’s going on?”
The man was talkative and got right into it. “That fella’s dog went after the poor guy’s kid, and he had no choice but to axe it for his son’s sake. That noble brat didn’t take it well—he jumped off his wagon and started laying into the poor man.”
Ethan nodded, brows furrowing. “So the dog had it coming. But right out in the open, beating a man like that in front of the city guards? No one’s stepping in?”
The man lowered his voice and said, “You must be new here. That guy’s Isaac Fraser—son of the Duke of Jing. You know the Duke? The Emperor’s own brother? That makes him a royal nephew. Who’d dare interfere? So long as no one dies, better to endure and move on. Folks like us can’t afford to cross that kind of line.”
Ethan’s expression turned cold. Oh, it’s *him*.
Over in the spotlight, Isaac was getting angrier by the second.
He suddenly spotted the axe lying on the ground, stomped over, and snatched it up. “You killed my dog, one I raised for nearly eight years. I won’t take your life—I’ll settle for two fingers. That’s fair, right?”
He wasn’t stupid. Murder would only bring too much trouble.
With that thought, he yanked the man's right hand forward, lined up the axe with the man’s thumb, and got ready to chop.
The little boy, seeing his father in danger, completely forgot his own injuries. He lunged forward, hugged Isaac’s leg tight, and shouted through sobs, “Please don’t hurt my dad! Your dog bit me—he was just protecting me!”
“Get lost, you brat!”
With a vicious kick, Isaac sent the boy flying. A flash of cruelty crossed his eyes as he raised the axe, aiming it straight down for the man’s thumb.
Just as the blade was about to fall—
A figure lunged in, and a fist slammed straight into Isaac’s face.
“Boom!”A powerful blow knocked Isaac Fraser off balance, and he hit the ground hard.
The axe in his hand was swiftly taken away.
The one who caught it—none other than Ethan Fraser.
He casually flipped the hatchet in his hand, a faint amused smile playing on his lips.
Seeing him strike, four guards rushed forward. Two helped Isaac up, the other two stepped protectively in front of him.
Isaac struggled to his feet, his face twisted in rage. He yelled, “This madman dares attack a royal heir! Kill him!”
The guards didn’t hesitate. Swords drawn, they charged.
But what happened next left everyone gaping in shock.
With just a hatchet in hand and one arm clasped behind his back, Ethan made quick work of them. In just a few moves, the guards collapse one by one, completely outmatched.
Seeing the tide turn, Isaac tried to flee. But he barely took two steps before Ethan was on him, grabbing the collar of his robe.
Isaac turned, face defiant and voice dripping with arrogance. “You better let me go. I’m the heir to Prince Jing. Hurt me and you’ll never leave Tang’an alive!”
He really believed no one dared touch him.
“Smack!”
Ethan’s hand cracked across Isaac’s face, making him reel. His right cheek swelled up immediately.
“You—” Isaac barely got the word out before another slap landed.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!”
Ethan didn’t even pause, raining down slap after slap.
Isaac’s mouth filled with blood as teeth flew out. Both sides of his jaw were wrecked.
Only now did the soldiers at the gate snap out of their daze and rush over.
The leader barked, “Stop that! He’s Prince Jing’s heir!”
Ethan kept his grip on the dazed Isaac and cast a cold glance at the captain. “So what? You dare step in, I’ll end you too.”
The captain froze, heart sinking. Whoever this man was—he wasn’t ordinary.
Ethan looked down at the battered Isaac, eyes icy. “Isaac, you’ve really let yourself go over the years. Did you forget what I told you? I said if I ever caught you bullying folks again, I’d smash your teeth out and break your legs. That was just ten years ago. What, all gone from your head already?”
Isaac’s eyes widened in shock. That voice, that face—it all came back. The vague, childish memory of someone terrifying came rushing to the surface.
He stared, voice trembling, “T-Third Brother?”
Of course—Ethan Fraser, the third prince of Daqian. Once hailed as a brilliant child, beloved by Emperor Nicholas himself. He’d been the favorite to inherit the throne.
But ten years ago, at only fourteen, he left Tang’an with just a letter. No word since.
And now, here he was.
Isaac’s body shook as the old fear crept back in. Ethan wasn’t bluffing—he meant it.
“Third Brother… it’s my fault, I was wrong! Please, don’t do this!” he begged, voice cracking.
The soldiers stood frozen. If Isaac was calling this man “Third Brother,” that made him royalty too. No need to intervene now.
But what Ethan did next made them all suck in a breath.
He forced Isaac to the ground with one hand and turned to the crowd.
“Isaac Fraser, royal heir of Daqian, stands accused before the people. Abusing commoners, disgracing the crown—completely shameful. Today, I, Ethan Fraser, third prince of Daqian, will break both his legs as a warning to all!”