"Your Highness..."
The commotion at the ancestral hall had reached Prince Titus as well. One of his servants quietly reminded him, hinting at whether he should take some action.
Adrian Dongling was truly arrogant; in Feng Manor, he didn’t regard anyone in his eyes. Even the place where Prince Titus stayed wasn’t spared—it was searched, though not smashed.
Although no one said anything directly, Prince Titus understood the meaning behind the words. He wanted to act, but...
"I am a prince of Lyndaria; I cannot interfere in Eastlyn’s internal affairs. This is the Bloodcloak Guard carrying out official duties." Prince Titus sat in his wheelchair, gripping the armrests tightly.
The servant understood Prince Titus’s predicament, but he was worried that if something happened at Feng Manor, Ninth Royal Uncle would blame Titus. The servant whispered, "Your Highness, what about Ninth Royal Uncle?"
Prince Titus closed his eyes, hiding the helplessness within them. "As long as I can protect Serena Feng, that’s enough."
The servant thought for a moment and said no more. Master and servant—one seated, one standing—stared blankly in the direction of the ancestral hall, silently praying that nothing would happen there.
They knew very well that in Serena Feng’s heart, General Feng and Madam Feng held an irreplaceable place—even in death, no one could take their place...
In the imperial palace, the Emperor appeared to be in a great mood. He didn’t care how cold it was outside, nor that there were no flowers to admire in the Imperial Garden. He dragged Ninth Royal Uncle to ‘enjoy the scenery’ and play go in the garden.
Ninth Royal Uncle had long understood the Emperor’s intentions. Whether he was willing or not, he sat down expressionlessly, picked up a black stone, and made his move. His calm demeanor suggested that even if the sky fell, it would have nothing to do with him.
A strange light flickered in the Emperor’s eyes. He didn’t believe for a second that Ninth Royal Uncle was unaware of what he planned to do today, or what he had already done.
After the fifteenth stone was played, the Emperor finally spoke: "Ninth Brother, you’re very composed today."
This was a veiled reference to how, normally, at any hint of trouble for Serena, Ninth Royal Uncle would explode like a firecracker—whoever touched him would get burned. Today, his behavior was far too unusual.
When something is out of the ordinary, there’s always a reason. Emperors are always suspicious, and Ninth Royal Uncle’s behavior today made the Emperor unable to resist probing him.
Ninth Royal Uncle raised his eyes and looked at the Emperor, expressionless. If not for the wrong occasion, he would have laughed—how baseless the Emperor’s suspicions were. Wasn’t it the Emperor himself who kept him in the Imperial Garden?
Anxious? He was stuck in the palace while the troublemakers were outside. No matter how anxious he was, it wouldn’t help.
Did the Emperor want to see him embarrassed, flustered, and panicked?
Emperor, you really do overestimate yourself.
His long lashes trembled lightly, eyelids drooping to hide the glint in his eyes. He was afraid that if he lost control even for a moment, his disdain would show.
Placing his stone, Ninth Royal Uncle glanced at the board and made his move: "Your Majesty jests. When have I ever been any different?"
"Hahaha, that’s true. Ninth Brother, you’ve always been like a little grown-up since childhood—cold and aloof, ignoring everyone, acting as if you want nothing. I wonder who you learned that from." The Emperor picked up his teacup and sipped, using the motion to observe Ninth Royal Uncle.
He looked at Ninth Royal Uncle, dressed in a thin robe, then at himself, wrapped in a fox-fur coat that still couldn’t keep out the cold. A fleeting thought crossed his mind.
He was getting old, while Ninth Brother was still young. Even if he allowed his sons to fight, compete, and seize power, none of them could match Ninth Brother. Felix Fuller’s advice echoed in his ears, making him more certain it was wise.
The Crown Prince was useless—not even qualified to be a target for others. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let the Crown Prince keep that position for so long. Maybe it was time to replace him, or leave the seat vacant and let his sons fight for it.
Only the strong could sit on that throne; only someone who carved a bloody path through his brothers could hold it securely.
With so many thoughts swirling, his moves slowed down. Ninth Royal Uncle didn’t rush him, his gaze unfocused as he stared ahead, not answering the Emperor’s words.
If he hadn’t put on this attitude, hadn’t acted as if he wanted nothing, with the Emperor’s methods, could he have survived in the palace?
When the Emperor ascended the throne, he was still a clueless child. If people inside and outside the palace hadn’t protected him, he would have died a thousand deaths by now.
In the palace, there are a thousand ways for someone to die ‘reasonably’.
Emperor, do you regret not killing me back when I was too young to know anything?
Ninth Royal Uncle’s fingers twitched. His gaze shifted to the Emperor, who was still deep in thought, and he reminded him, "Your Majesty, it’s your turn."
The Emperor snapped back to attention and turned his head, meeting Ninth Royal Uncle’s gaze. Faced with those all-seeing eyes, the Emperor felt a flicker of unease.
He wondered if Ninth Royal Uncle knew something. Then he quickly dismissed the thought—if Ninth Royal Uncle truly knew, the one sitting on Eastlyn’s throne wouldn’t be him.
The Emperor didn’t want to dwell on it, nor did he press Ninth Royal Uncle. After making his move, he changed the subject: "What do you think of the Walker clan’s situation, Ninth Brother?"
The Walker Clan’s patriarch was missing, and the family was embroiled in infighting. Of course, the Emperor wasn’t just asking about the Walker clan—he also meant Feng Manor. Today, the Wang clan had gone to Feng Manor to stir up trouble. No one mentioned it, but both men knew.
"Favor and punishment alike are the Emperor’s grace. The Walker clan is also Eastlyn’s people." This was Ninth Royal Uncle’s way of saying that the Emperor alone should decide the Walker clan’s fate; he had no right to interfere.
The Emperor found these words comforting, but on closer inspection, they were just empty talk.
If William Wang Jinling secured his position as clan patriarch, it would be hard for the Emperor to control the Walker clan. But for now, these words were perfectly appropriate.
Back and forth they went—mostly with the Emperor probing and Ninth Royal Uncle replying only to the questions he wanted to answer, ignoring the rest. For once, a rare harmony existed between them.
While the Bloodcloak Guard was tearing Feng Manor apart, the Imperial Garden was all harmony and warmth. Ninth Royal Uncle and the Emperor were playing chess, but their real chessboard wasn’t the jade one in the garden—it was the Walker clan.
That’s right: for the Emperor and Ninth Royal Uncle, the Walker clan was the real game today. Feng Manor was a crucial piece—one that could decide victory or defeat. But until the piece was played, no one knew who would win. The garden’s harmony was just an illusion.
The Emperor was confident of victory; Ninth Royal Uncle was calm and composed. The Emperor thought that by restraining Ninth Royal Uncle and Prince Samuel Zhai, he was sure to win the struggle over Feng Manor. But he forgot that in the capital, there was someone whose status surpassed even Adrian Dongling. That person was...
"Stop!" Just as the Bloodcloak Guard raised their blades against Feng Manor’s servants, the Crown Prince—dressed in apricot-yellow palace robes—arrived at Feng Manor with his guards.
"Your Highness the Crown Prince?" The Bloodcloak Guard froze, their blades suspended in midair, not daring to strike.
Why would the Crown Prince come to Feng Manor at this moment?
A coincidence?
No—there are no such coincidences in this world...