Weapon seller in the world of magic-Chapter 741: Prince Zetian and Shang Jiao

"Why were you two fighting so early in the morning?" Mark continued calmly. "That level of intensity wasn’t just casual sparring. You were calling him things like ’shameless hypocrite.’ That doesn’t sound friendly. Did you two fight about something? Did he act rudely or inappropriately around you? If it is, then tell me. You don’t have to worry that he is some imperial prince."

Shang Jiao’s face flushed again.

She turned her head to the side, clearly avoiding his gaze. For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she spoke in a quieter voice.

"It really isn’t anything important."

Mark raised an eyebrow but waited.

She hesitated, then continued, her words coming out a little faster. "He commented on my fighting style. Said I relied too much on my staff. Said my growth would stagnate. It annoyed me."

"That alone wouldn’t push you this far," Mark replied.

Shang Jiao bit her lip.

"He also said," she added softly, "that unless someone keeps pushing me, I’ll never truly improve. That I’m strong only because I haven’t met enough rivals."

She clenched her fist. "I know he wasn’t completely wrong. But hearing it from him... it felt irritating."

Mark nodded slowly.

"That’s still not enough to explain the hostility," he said.

She was silent again.

After a moment, she sighed and spoke honestly. "He kept looking down on me at first. Not openly, but... it was there. Like he was testing me. I wanted to prove that I wasn’t just a mage hiding behind power."

Mark chuckled softly.

"So you decided to prove it by almost draining yourself dry before breakfast."

Shang Jiao shot him an annoyed look. "You’re not helping."

He smiled wider. "I’m not scolding you either."

Her expression softened slightly.

Mark walked closer and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. "You did well. You pushed yourself, and you forced him to reveal his limits. That alone means you gained something today."

She looked up at him. "Really?"

"Yes," he said with a firm nod.

Mark then straightened and looked toward the palace. "Go rest. Eat something. Your ether reserves are nearly empty."

Shang Jiao glanced once more in the direction Zetian had been taken, then finally turned to leave.

As she walked away, Mark remained standing on the platform, his eyes thoughtful.

Later;

The healing ward was quiet, filled with the soft glow of restorative formations etched into the walls. The air carried a faint medicinal scent meant to calm the mind and body.

Zetian lay on the bed, his half mask still covering the left side of his face. Sweat soaked his hair and collar as his chest rose and fell unevenly.

In his dream, he stood frozen in place.

He saw his mother kneeling on cold stone, her white fox tail trembling as she begged. Her voice cracked as she pleaded with his father to spare her, to spare the child clinging to her robes. Then came the flash of a blade, ruthless and final. Blood stained the floor. Her body collapsed, lifeless.

A younger Zetian screamed.

The prince jolted awake with a sharp gasp.

He sat upright abruptly, his breathing heavy, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest. For a few seconds, he stared blankly ahead before reality slowly returned. He grabbed a towel from the bedside and wiped the sweat from his face, his hands trembling slightly.

"Again," he muttered under his breath.

As he lowered the towel, the door creaked open.

Shang Jiao stepped inside.

Zetian froze.

For a split second, he stared at her in shock, the mask still off his face. His golden-blue eyes widened slightly before he hurriedly reached for the mask and pressed it back into place.

Shang Jiao blinked, clearly surprised. "Whoa..."

Zetian stiffened. "You saw that?"

She walked closer, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. "I thought you had burns or scars on that side of your face or something," she said honestly. "It looks completely normal."

He paused, then exhaled slowly. "Is that all you thought?"

Shang Jiao blinked. "What else?"

Zetian shook his head, then spoke carefully. "I possess the Baihu constitution. If I expose my face and eyes to the opposite gender for too long, it amplifies emotions. Those who already feel goodwill toward me may fall in love. Those who dislike me may grow extreme hatred. It works similarly to hypnosis... but without my control."

Shang Jiao frowned slightly. "That sounds troublesome."

"It is," he replied quietly. "That’s why I keep the mask on."

She crossed her arms and looked at him calmly. "Relax. It won’t work on me."

Zetian looked at her sharply. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "I’m immune to mental interference. Illusions, charm, hypnosis. All useless to me."

He stared at her for a moment, clearly conflicted. "Are you really sure?" he asked again, his voice lower. "Because if something goes wrong... the Patriarch will kill me."

Shang Jiao snorted softly. "My brother isn’t the monster you think he is."

She pulled a chair closer and sat down, her tone easing. "And even if something did happen, I can handle myself. You don’t need to be so tense. Just take off the mask"

Zetian hesitated for a long moment.

His fingers rested on the edge of the half mask, tightening slightly as if it weighed more than it should. He glanced at Shang Jiao once, then away, then back again. Finally, as if making up his mind, he exhaled slowly and lifted the mask from his face.

The moment it came off, his eyes changed.

The pupils narrowed into vertical slits, glowing faintly with a pale gold light. His features sharpened subtly, as if every line of his face had been refined by something ancient and inhuman. There was a strange harmony to it, an unsettling beauty that did not feel purely human.

Shang Jiao froze.

Her eyes widened, her body going still as she stared at him without blinking. For a heartbeat, the room seemed to quiet completely.

"Oh my god..." she said softly. "You have such a beautiful face..."

Zetian’s heart dropped. "What?"

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze unfocused, almost dazed. "I feel like I’m looking at the most handsome person I’ve ever seen..."

His face went pale.

"Oh, shit," he blurted out. "No—no, no, no—"

He scrambled for the mask, panic flashing across his eyes. "I told you not to look," he cursed under his breath. "You stupid—"

Just as he was about to put the mask back on, Shang Jiao suddenly reached out and caught his wrist.

Then she burst out laughing.

"Relax, Prince," she said, laughing so hard she had to bend slightly at the waist. "I was just joking. Hahaha..."

Zetian froze mid-motion.

She casually took the mask from his hand and lowered it, still laughing. "I told you earlier, didn’t I? I’m immune to your bloodline’s effects. I’m the Blizzard Pegasus inheritor, remember?" She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "You should’ve seen your face. You panicked so badly."

She straightened and grinned at him. "Honestly, you must’ve practiced that warning speech a thousand times."

For a second, Zetian just stared at her.

Then he let out a short, helpless laugh and shook his head. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

She handed the mask back to him. "Then don’t randomly test dangerous abilities on people," she replied lightly.

He took the mask, but this time he didn’t put it on immediately. He looked at it in his palm, then back at her. "So... you really weren’t affected?"

"Nope," Shang Jiao said confidently. "Not even a little."

Zetian studied her face carefully, searching for any hint of lingering charm or distortion. He found none. Her eyes were clear, her expression playful, exactly the same as before.

"Interesting," he murmured under his breath.

She crossed her arms. "What? Disappointed that your scary fox charm didn’t work?"

He smiled faintly. "Relieved," he corrected his tone. "I’m very relieved."

He finally put the mask back on, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You know," he added, "most people wouldn’t joke about something like that."

Shang Jiao shrugged indifferently. "Most people aren’t me."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head again. "That much is obvious."

For the first time since waking from the nightmare, Zetian felt genuinely at ease. The room no longer felt like a cage, and the weight of his bloodline didn’t press as heavily on his chest.