The mocking voice landed behind her like a splash of cold water. Han Yuyao's brow tightened; a flash of disgust crossed her eyes. She turned, lips curling into a sneer.
"Young Master Zuo," she said coolly. "Deliberately injuring somebody and causing serious harm—such a grave crime—and you're out so fast? The Zuo family works miracles, don't they?"
At that moment, a man stepped out of the VIP room. He wore rimless glasses threaded with gold—a scholar's frame that made him look refined and civilized. His features were handsome in a cultivated way, like a classics scholar from another age: composed, polite, almost gentle when he smiled.
But the eyes behind those glasses told another story. Cold, contemptuous, venomous—like a snake watching its prey. The contrast made him feel almost grotesque: a polished gentleman with a rotten core.
He was Zuo Yi—one of Tianhai's infamous Four Young Masters, the same social circle that Huang Yu and Han Kun belonged to.
Compared to the Han family, the Zuo household had produced far more heirs. That was thanks in large part to the hard graft of the previous Zuo patriarch. Zuo Yi was one of the most outstanding among the younger generation—a man known for ruthlessness that hid beneath an elegant veneer.
Public reputations aside, Han Yuyao knew how the Zuo family truly rose to power: from the depths of the underworld to respectable standing. They'd laundered themselves into legitimacy, but their methods had never cared for moral limits. During their climb, the Zuo patriarch had even sacrificed his own wife—sending her to a high official who took advantage of her, an act that ended with her hanging herself. Only a few knew of that darkness.
Zuo Yi favored brute force when it came to solving problems. Projects under his oversight left bodies in their wake. The Zuo family's "respectability" was built on amoral decisions, and that moral void had helped them secure their place among Tianhai's Four Great Clans.
In the source story, Zuo Yi would soon ally with Xiao Zhan, become his right-hand man in the Tianhai chapter, seize power, and be anointed the new head of the Zuo family—cementing the clan's dominance with the backing of the Dragon King Hall. The price of that ascent would be high: many young women tied to the Zuo family, Zuo Jingxue among them, would be sacrificed to swell Xiao Zhan's burgeoning harem.
For now, Zuo Yi and Han Yuyao exchanged looks that barely hid their mutual hostility. Zuo's eyes roamed over her lithe, youthful form with overt predatory interest—eyes that appraised as if Han Yuyao were nothing more than decorative flesh beneath a uniform.
He did not lunge or make crude moves; instead he adjusted his glasses, smiled, and spoke with faux innocence.
"Thank you, Captain Han," he said lightly. "Prison was very educational—gave me a few months to study. But—" he put on a wounded expression, "I was framed. Isn't Officer Han being a bit overbearing? Is this how the Han family suppresses others?"
"Zuo Yi, don't spout nonsense," Han Yuyao shot back, voice cold. She had no patience for his arrogance.
"This is an open-and-shut case," she continued. "If you refuse to confess, you can come with me to the station. I promise… next time you won't be out in a few months."
Zuo Yi feigned a sigh and a look of helplessness. "Oh, please, Yuyao—this is all just a terrible misunderstanding between us." He smiled like a man arranging the world to his liking. "I'm not like that scum Huang Yu. I'll work to mend our relations. Who knows—maybe in a few months we'll be family."
The words stung like oil on a flame. Hearing someone talk that way about his family, Han Kun—fresh from being humiliated—couldn't stand it. Though often a self-serving troublemaker, when it came to his sister he was fiercely defensive. No outsider had the right to belittle the Han family.
"Zuo Yi," Han Kun stormed forward and jabbed a finger at the man's forehead. "You got publicly forced to kneel and call someone 'dad' last time—didn't you learn your lesson?"
His taunt grazed something raw. For a heartbeat a murderous glint flashed through Zuo Yi's eyes before he masked it. He didn't retaliate, but the tiny change did not go unnoticed.
"Hey! Who do you think you are, giving me that look?" Zuo Yi called to his lackeys with the practiced air of a spoiled prince. "Boys—teach this clown some manners."
They moved.
"Stop!" Han Yuyao's voice cut through the tension like a blade. The thugs paused as one.
"Sis, I—" Han Kun started.
"Shut up." She silenced him with a stare that brooked no argument. In her presence the swagger left Zuo Yi's posture, however slightly. The ancient martial pressure Han Yuyao exuded made even him hesitate. Sweat pricked at his brow. He said nothing more.
Han Yuyao didn't strike. Instead she stepped toward the woman Han Kun had been shielding—the enchantress whose eyes had seemed too practiced, too dangerous. The woman looked pitiful, ready to burst into tears, but Han Yuyao's gaze never softened. It sharpened.
"My patience is limited," she warned in a low, dangerous voice. "I'm in the mood to teach someone a lesson today. Don't force me."
She raised a hand and began to count, slow and precise. "One—two—three. Tell me: who sent you?"