Shallow Malice, Drawing Hatred for Ninth Royal Uncle

Serena Feng, I will do my best to protect you. You need to fight for yourself too!

Nolan slowly released his grip, acting as if nothing had happened. He sat there calmly, ignoring everyone around him.

Nolan didn't spare a glance for anyone in the hall, but Prince Damien of Southlyn watched his every move. Seeing Nolan remain calm and unruffled, Damien found it utterly boring.

Since he couldn't get a rise out of Nolan, tormenting Serena Feng lost its appeal. Prince Damien flung his cup behind him, striking a palace maid square in the chest. Wine trickled down her cleavage as she turned deathly pale, frozen in fear.

"Dissipated wastrel, you'll never amount to anything! No wonder Southern Lyn's power was monopolized by a woman." Grand Tutor Xia bristled with anger, clearly unable to stomach Prince Damien's behavior.

A cold gleam flashed in Damien's eyes, but Grand Tutor Xia didn't notice and kept scolding: "Even at their worst, Eastlyn's women are better than Southern Lyn's. At least they're not bewitching, country-ruining temptresses like yours."

Grand Tutor Xia was talking about Southern Lyn's former Empress Dowager. Their emperor ascended the throne at ten, but for thirty years, his mother held all the power.

Southern Lyn was wracked by internal chaos; the court was a disaster. The Empress Dowager was power-hungry, waging wars for years while the people suffered. Only after the emperor endured until her death did he finally take back control, and only in recent years has the kingdom begun to recover.

That chapter of history is a disgrace for Southern Lyn's royal family. In public, the other three kingdoms never mention it to avoid war. Grand Tutor Xia only brought it up because he was too furious to hold back.

Sure enough, as soon as Grand Tutor Xia finished speaking, Prince Damien straightened up, his seductive phoenix eyes flashing with anger. He stared coldly at Xia, looking ready to kill.

Grand Tutor Xia, a scholar with a proud backbone, still couldn't withstand Damien's cold, murderous aura. His face went pale; age made his legs tremble, but Eastlyn's loose court robes hid it from view.

Damien said nothing, but everyone understood—he had seized the upper hand.

Nolan kept his gaze straight ahead, but that didn't mean he was oblivious. His long lashes lowered, hiding the disappointment in his eyes.

A Grand Tutor, cowed by a single glance from Damien—pathetic. Even Serena Feng, a woman, had shown a hundred times more backbone.

Feeling the tension spike, Adrian Dongling didn't hesitate. He stood up, raised his cup to Damien in a gesture of apology. The crowd didn't understand and shot Adrian looks of blame.

The Emperor frowned; the Empress looked worried. Adrian Dongling smiled warmly and drank his wine as if nothing was amiss.

"Third Prince, Grand Tutor Xia is a blunt, learned scholar—always outspoken and unafraid of power. That's how Eastlyn officials are. Xia didn't realize Southern Lyn's emperor only likes flattery, so his words may have offended you. Please forgive him." The apology was edged with insult, and the Emperor smiled faintly.

Damien said nothing, his narrow phoenix eyes half-closed like a venomous snake, staring at Adrian Dongling as if to bore a hole through him.

Adrian Dongling wasn't Grand Tutor Xia. Facing Damien's murderous aura, he smiled calmly, showing imperial dignity and more poise than the Crown Prince.

Nolan glanced at the pale, bloodless Crown Prince but said nothing. The Crown Prince grew uneasy, wanting to speak several times, but seeing the tense situation, he stayed silent, watching the silent battle of glances between Damien and Adrian.

It wasn't that he didn't want to step forward, but that he simply couldn't. His body couldn't handle such intense pressure—trying to stand out would only trigger another attack.

This broken body! Hatred flickered in the Crown Prince's eyes, though he himself didn't notice it. But Nolan saw it clearly.

Prince Damien of Southlyn was wild, arrogant, and violent—he never compromised, not even here in Eastlyn. He refused to give an inch, determined to trample Adrian Dongling underfoot.

Prince Terrence of Lyndaria and Prince Quentin of Northlyn stayed silent. As if by agreement, they both looked up, their gazes meeting midair, and in each other's eyes, they saw envy.

They envied Damien's wild arrogance, but as royals themselves, they knew all too well: you can't always do as you please. Most of the time, you have to put practical interests first.

Lyndaria didn't have the strength to fight Eastlyn; Northlyn still depended on Eastlyn to survive. Southern Lyn was different—their people were fierce and skilled in war, and Prince Damien was the kind who thrived on trouble. As long as he didn't go too far, even the Eastlyn Emperor could only grit his teeth and endure it.

The banquet froze in awkward silence. The two men—one cold and sharp, the other gentle and elegant—refused to yield, neither willing to back down. The Emperor, displeased, raised his brows and moved his lips but said nothing.

Seeing this, the Empress had no choice but to step in and smooth things over. Ignoring Adrian Dongling and Damien, she smiled and announced that, to welcome Prince Damien, the palace maidens would perform a new song and dance for everyone to enjoy and critique.

Prince Quentin of Northlyn still hoped to marry Princess Serenity, so when the Empress spoke, he immediately chimed in, smiling and expressing his anticipation.

With that, everyone had an excuse to step down. But Damien was still relentless. Adrian Dongling's eyes flashed with disgust; he ignored Damien and sat down as if nothing had happened.

"Hmph." Damien snorted and sat back down, still fuming. At that moment, music began—the dancers spun and swayed, sleeves rippling like waves. In the center, a stunning beauty in pure white descended gracefully from above, looking for all the world like a fairy fallen from heaven.

"Wonderful! Wonderful!"

"A fairy in the clouds—so beautiful, truly beautiful!"

After the performance, everyone praised the dancers. But then a discordant voice rang out: "All these pretty playthings, all these seductive girls—Eastlyn's women really do serve men with their looks. They dirty my eyes."

Dang—

The musician's string snapped.

Thud—

The dancers were terrified. Each delicate beauty knelt obediently, faces ghostly pale in the candlelight, like lambs awaiting slaughter. They bit their lips hard, terrified that crying out would anger the Emperor.

The dancer dressed in white, playing the fairy, frowned in annoyance—but at a moment like this, who cared about a dancer's feelings?

All the civil and military officials changed their expressions, stopping mid-sentence. Each one glared at Damien, blaming him for his outrageous rudeness.

Damien couldn't care less. His eyes were cold as ice. Before the Emperor could explode, Damien stood up, strode past him, and went straight to Nolan.

"Ninth Royal Uncle, Eastlyn's women are truly boring. I want to meet the one who made even a man like you lose his soul—Serena Feng. Would you mind?"

Lewd words, brazenly spoken—not just dragging Serena Feng into the crosshairs, but pulling Nolan into the mess too. Damien was determined to make enemies of them both.