Bride of the Serpent King - Chapter 46: Not My Brother, My Husband!

Born as the thirteenth son of the grand Kingdom of Ironhelm, Prince Liam is far from being considered a contender in the race for the throne. With his father, King Elijah Orlean, having only eight years left to choose the next heir, Liam’s prospects are slim. Seen as the boy with the least mana talent, he is overlooked by the court, his siblings, and even his tutors.But appearances can be deceiving. At just thirteen years old, Liam is secretly an Expert Mage, capable of wielding magic with precision and power that even the most talented in the kingdom would envy. Determined to keep his abilities hidden, Liam embarks on a path of quiet preparation, honing his skills in secret while navigating the dangerous political intrigue of Ironhelm.

A fourth chance at life. The last chance.Zarek remembered when he first experienced the Godsfall Apocalypse. Those tears of red and sparkling rouge that split the skies, opening up one dangerous realm after another.That feeling of helplessness had been palpable, heavy... suffocating. It hung above his head like a guillotine, an edge graced by death's kiss...He grinned at it.One last ride, no Talents left on his stat screen, and nothing but a dull machete and his girl by his side. What was a better thrill than that?How could he possibly fail a fourth time?Unfortunately, there were others. Other Rebirthers. Some that might have been on their last attempt just like him, or some that still had more to give to this cruel world.None of it mattered, though. He had planned everything out meticulously, each life playing its own role.He would come out on top this time. How could he not?He was Zarek Ashborn.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.

I belong to a good sect that has never turned its back on me for my poor potential, has never forced me to study martial arts, and even helped arrange a betrothal for me when I was young.

My fiancée is a much renowned hot-tempered young miss. She’s beautiful, strong, and deeply loves me. Upon my start down the path of the Jianghu, I entirely relied on her to provide cover for me and before long, I became renowned as the #1 Pretty Boy of the Immortal Path.

Yet one day, I discovered that this person is apparently a man. A man in drag!

More unforgivable is that he thought I was a woman dressing as a man!

Me, as if my liver and guts are being cut to pieces: “Brother, what have you done with my fiancée?”

Him, as if a knife has been twisted in his heart: “Brother, what have *you* done with my fiancée?”

The waters of the Jianghu are indeed murky. Even if I am starving, even if I’m dying far from home, from this point on, I will not eat even a mouthful of rice prepared by him.

—So fragrant.

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