The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 24: When Giants Fought

Chapter 24: When Giants Fought

Finally, after what felt like hours, the cage was opened. The process was painstakingly slow under Zhou Cunzhang’s precise tools, but he was able to create a hole through the bars for the prince to squeeze through.

However, the prince didn’t move from where he was curled on the metal floor—the smell of blood, fear, and filth flooded the air around him.

"I need a medic," Zhu Deming barked.

One of the captains ran back to camp, returning moments later with the military physician by the name of Bai Xu. He was old but sharp, his hands steady and his eyes cold. He entered the cage without flinching and knelt beside the prince. Slowly, he cleaned the blood away with water and linen strips.

It wasn’t until he tilted the prince’s face toward the light that he paused.

Zhu Deming saw it first.

Three gouged scratches ran from just under the prince’s right eye to the base of his jaw—deep, red, and raw. The flesh puckered and peeled where the bird’s talons had torn through, and though partially healed, they would scar.

Badly.

"Leave," Zhu Lianhua croaked. His voice was barely human. "All of you. Now."

"No, Your Highness," said Bai Xu calmly, still checking his pulse. "You’ve suffered blood loss, shock, and likely infection. These wounds need—"

"Get. Out," hissed Zhu Lianhua, his eyes snapping at the doctor. If looks could kill, the doctor would be six feet under at that moment.

However, no one listened to the Third Prince.

Zhu Deming remained where he was at the cage’s edge, his arms folded in front of him as his half-mask hid most of his expression from prying eyes.

"You’re scarred," he said evenly, his eyes never leaving the still bleeding marks on his younger brother’s face.

Zhu Lianhua trembled as Bai Xu touched part of the torn skin. "They’ll heal," snarled Zhu Lianhua, refusing to believe anything else.

But Bai Xu’s eyes flicked to Zhu Deming. "They won’t," he said practically. "The talons tore too deep. Even with salves, the flesh will not return to its original smoothness. And those are only the scars on his face. His black is completely shredded, and there are another three slashes on his chest. I’m actually surprised that he lived this long."

Zhu Lianhua lunged forward so fast that it startled even the soldiers. His fingers wrapped around the old healer’s throat.

"No one will know," he snarled, his voice guttural. "No one will say a word, so no one will know."

Bai Xu didn’t fight back. He only looked at him with quiet pity. "There’s no shame in being wounded."

"There is when you are born to rule," hissed the prince. "There is when weakness is a death sentence. To be scarred takes you out of the running for the throne." His eyes briefly turned to Zhu Deming and his mask before turning back to the doctor. "I will not have a scar."

Zhu Deming finally stepped forward. He grabbed Zhu Lianhua by the back of his ruined changshan and yanked him away, tossing him into the dirt like a sack of grain.

"You always were a snake," the Second Prince muttered. "But I never thought you were stupid enough to kill your only healer over a scar."

Zhu Lianhua coughed up a clot of blood before he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "I’d kill an entire village if it meant securing my place on the throne."

Zhu Deming raised an eyebrow at that statement. "So you are finally admitting that you are fighting Oldest Brother for the throne?"

"Only an idiot wouldn’t fight for the throne," sneered Zhu Lianhua. "Besides, even if you did tell Father, do you really think anything would happen to me?" The satisfied smirk on Zhu Lianhua’s face was enough to remind everyone that while the world might think that the Crown Prince was the Emperor’s favorite, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Zhu Deming didn’t bother to respond; he simply turned around and walked away. But in his mind, the memories churned.

He looked at the Third Prince now—bloodied, trembling, and full of fury—and all he could think was: the Emperor’s genes were strong.

He remembered standing in the throne room as a child, watching his father shout orders and beat a general with a staff for failing to follow them. He remembered those sharp eyes, that hawk nose, that same voice when enraged.

Zhu Lianhua had inherited it all. In fact, all the princes had inherited it.

The same hair. The same bone structure. The same bottomless ambition.

But where the Emperor had aged into cruelty like a blade forged by decades of war, Zhu Lianhua wielded his own cruelty like a boy with a torch, setting fire to everything, even if it meant burning down his own future.

Zhu Deming looked down at his own hands—scarred, calloused, bloodstained. His face beneath the mask wasn’t one a painter would favor. He’d given his beauty to the war, his youth to survival. In another world, maybe he and Zhu Lianhua could have been equals. But in this one... the throne would never be his. His scars were proof of his service, his sacrifice.

Zhu Lianhua’s scars would be seen as a mark of shame.

"I want every person who looked at me today silenced," the Third Prince whispered as one of his personal guards approached him. "Even if they only glanced. I don’t care if it takes years. I’ll have their heads."

He stood now, legs shaking, naked chest heaving.

"They laughed at me. Like animals. They tore my face apart and played with me like I was nothing. They’ll pay for it. Every last one of them."

Sun Longzi, who had been standing at the side quietly, approached silently behind him. "Who, exactly, will pay?"

Zhu Lianhua turned. "The ones who made this place. The ones who built the traps. The ones who let that mountain become a beast."

Sun Longzi’s face was blank. "You think the mountain was built by villagers?"

"I think there’s something up there that thinks itself God. And I am going to kill it."

Sun Longzi’s gaze flicked to Zhu Deming’s back as the other man disappeared into the distance.

"And what if it’s not a thing?" the general asked. "What if it’s a person?"

Zhu Lianhua’s mouth curled, blood drying at the corners. "Then I’ll burn them down, piece by piece, until even the gods forget their name."

Sun Longzi absently nodded his head before quickly following Zhu Deming. There was no reason in that face anymore. No sense of duty or strategy. There was only madness and hunger.

He was only worried about who would be caught in the crossfire for the throne.

When giants fought, everyone suffered, and Sun Longzi was worried about the citizens of Daiyu.