Hypocrisy and a Righteous Excuse to Rake in Money

Serena Feng had always trusted Vincent Su to handle things. After briefing him on the House of Earl Everley and the gambling board, she stopped worrying about it and focused all her attention on amputating Prince Titus of Lyndaria’s leg and fitting his prosthetic.

To Serena, being a doctor was her true profession—everything else was just a side job. Yet ever since she arrived in this world, medicine seemed to have become her part-time gig.

It had been so long since she’d held a scalpel that Serena worried her hands might have grown clumsy and stiff. She made a special trip to the Sun Estate, asking Simon Sun to prepare several rabbit limbs for her to practice on. She’d considered using corpses, but decided against it—dead prisoners’ bodies weren’t easy to get, and she didn’t want trouble.

Arriving at the Sun Estate, Serena still didn’t see Imperial Physician Sun or Madam Sun. She was used to it by now—those two seemed especially busy lately, always nowhere to be found.

With no outsiders to disturb her, Serena was able to lose herself in the world of surgery. Faced with a blood-soaked operating table, she didn’t feel repulsed—instead, she found it familiar and comforting. This was her real life.

She’d rather deal with cold scalpels and mangled flesh than play mind games with people. Scheming was exhausting, and she had no interest—or brainpower—for it.

Every time she entered the Imperial Palace, she was on high alert, terrified of making a mistake, saying the wrong thing, or stepping into someone’s trap—ending up tossed in the Sky Prison or handed over to the Bloodcloak Guard.

Places like the Sky Prison and the Bloodcloak Guard—Serena hoped she’d never set foot in them as a prisoner. Once in a lifetime was more than enough.

You had to hand it to Serena—she had good judgment. Vincent Su was incredibly efficient. While she was dissecting her fifth rabbit, the servants at Ninth Prince Manor were already in crisis mode, scrambling to buy cold medicine at night, terrified by Nolan Arden’s icy glare.

“The House of Earl Everley can’t even raise their own sons, so how could they govern properly? I want every piece of criminal evidence against them in two days, and within a month, I want them gone. I don’t want to see a single Everley in the Capital.” Nolan could have wiped them out overnight using his secret forces, but...

Whenever he could use open, lawful means, Nolan Arden never resorted to his secret forces. Punishing someone in the shadows could never compare to the shock of a public reckoning.

He wanted to kill one to warn a hundred—using the House of Earl Everley’s miserable downfall as a lesson to every noble in the Capital: disaster comes from careless words.

"Yes." The black-clad messenger who delivered the news didn’t say another word—he turned and left to carry out Nolan’s orders. Inside, though, he was wailing: why, why was every message he brought always about Serena Feng? The master’s mood soured every time, and he had to endure both Nolan’s rage and his murderous aura.

Damn it, when he got back, he was definitely going to find out who kept dumping all the Serena Feng news on his desk.

Caleb Wang got the news just a half-step later than Nolan. Vincent Su and Caleb happened to meet at a teahouse; after a few casual words, Vincent subtly mentioned the Everley affair and hinted he wanted to discuss a lucrative deal with the Wang clan.

You had to admit, Vincent Su was thorough. He knew that if the Everley scandal reached other members of the Wang clan, Serena would almost certainly get dragged down with it. Only Caleb Wang would worry about both William Wang Jinling’s reputation and Serena’s safety.

As for the business Vincent was proposing to the Wang clan? Anyone could guess—it was the massive gambling board Serena had designed. With profits that high, Vincent was tempted to keep it all for himself, and he had the skills to do it, but both Lance Quinn and Serena vetoed the idea.

The timeline was too short, the pot too big—no single house could swallow it. Only by joining forces could they maximize gains. That was Serena’s reasoning. Lance Quinn, meanwhile, reminded Vincent that this was a rare chance to befriend nobles and great clans; sharing some profits was no big deal. Only by partnering with them could they build enough momentum to make the gambling board explode in popularity and push the stakes as high as possible.

Nolan Arden’s power was strongest in the Capital, but out in the provinces, the great clans and nobles ruled. With their help, everything would go smoothly.

If all went as planned, it wouldn’t just be the Capital—the entire Eastlyn Empire would join the mega-gambling board. It would become a nationwide craze, and by then, no other power could muscle in. The funds they raised would be far greater than anything in the Capital, and even if they gave up a share, what they got back would be so much more.

You had to admit, both Lance Quinn and Serena Feng had real strategic vision. They saw farther and clearer than anyone. Vincent hadn’t thought of it at first, but once Lance pointed it out, he understood immediately and started reaching out to all sides.

Because of Serena and Lance’s ‘greed,’ Prince Damien of Southlyn ended up the real loser—he’d planned to raise military funds in Eastlyn, but instead lost so much he nearly couldn’t return home.

Lance Quinn and Serena had great strategic sense, but... when it came to negotiating with nobles and great clans, they were hopeless. Only a ‘shady’ merchant like Vincent Su could pull it off.

Unfortunately, Vincent’s first day out, he hit a wall. The profit in the gambling board was obvious, but not every noble or great clan wanted to touch it—gambling just sounded bad.

Noble families cared about their reputations. Even if they acted in secret, they didn’t want to be associated with gambling—ordinary folk might not notice, but the upper crust would find out right away.

The great clans were good at making money, but they never did business themselves—their industries were run by hereditary vassals. They’d never ruin their reputation for profit or let the pure scholars mock them.

Vincent asked Lance Quinn what to do. Lance told him to go ask Serena—the gambling board was her idea, and so was bringing in partners. If anyone could solve the problem, it was her.

That’s when Serena realized: this wasn’t the modern world. The government would never organize gambling, and the nobles valued their ‘clean feathers’ above all. There was no way they’d risk their reputations. Still, she refused to give up. After a moment’s thought, she said, “From the house’s fifty percent cut, we’ll take ten percent to help the poor. We’ll brand the gambling board as a way to benefit the needy and ease the court’s burdens.”

Nobles wanted both money and a good name? Fine—Serena would give them both.

That ten percent was a hefty sum, but for a spotless reputation and the nobles’ support, it was worth every coin.

“Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! Money and reputation, all at once.” Vincent Su was more and more impressed with Serena—she’d managed to elevate a gambling board to the level of a national project.

Serena just let out a cold laugh and said nothing.

Brilliant? Please. It was just circling money under the guise of helping the poor. Hypocrisy—straight out of the imperial playbook. Now she could pull it off with ease, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

With the charity banner in place, persuading the nobles got much easier. Just as Serena predicted, every great clan needed silver to maintain its splendor—no family would dare claim they didn’t need money.