The More We Raid, the More People Are Dragged In

Liancastle and the Taishang Emperor.

Serena wasn’t surprised by Empress Dowager Xie’s words. In fact, as soon as she received Helena’s message, Serena had already guessed that the Taishang Emperor was almost certainly involved—she just hadn’t expected Liancastle to have a hand in it too.

“Liancastle?” This wasn’t the first time she’d heard of the place, nor the first time it had come after her. Serena felt an unexplainable disgust toward Liancastle. After parting with Empress Dowager Xie, she went straight back to Feng Manor.

“Miss, Ninth Royal Uncle just visited. He left a quarter-hour ago.” The steward dutifully reported. Serena nodded, indicating she understood, then after a few steps stopped again: “Send a formal card to the Cui Clan—I want to see Holden Cui. Notify Capital Prefect Yan at the Capital Prefecture Court and have him intensify the search within the city. No one is allowed to take Feng Jin out of the capital.”

If Feng Jin is taken to Liancastle, things will get even messier—she doesn’t have the power to send troops and wipe out Liancastle.

“Yes, Miss.” The steward hurried off to carry out her orders, not daring to delay for even half a moment.

Ever since Feng Jin was abducted, everyone in Feng Manor had sprung into action. Not a single person dared slack off; every staff member was on high alert, desperate to turn the entire Imperial City upside down if that’s what it took.

Spring, Autumn, and Winter stepped forward together, not daring to defend themselves. Instead, they reported the intelligence they’d gathered to Serena: “Miss, Young Master Linden Ling has been going out frequently lately. Every day he visits a bookshop called Black Ink Studio and stays there for one or two hours each time.”

“Black Ink Studio? Tell the Capital Prefecture Court to raid it, top to bottom.” Serena couldn’t be sure if Linden was involved, but she’d rather kill by mistake than let someone slip through.

“Yes, Miss.” Spring nodded in response. Autumn hesitated for a moment, then added, “Miss, there’s something else—the people below reported that near the outskirts of the city, there’s a coffin shop that’s been open for years but always does poor business. Yet the same shopkeeper and waiter have stuck it out, and they haven’t changed staff once in all these years.”

“A coffin shop?” Serena knew that places like this could go years without a sale, but a single good coffin could keep the shop afloat for several more years. So poor business wasn’t necessarily suspicious. Still, to be safe, she ordered surveillance: “Don’t let them notice.”

“Understood, Miss.” Autumn responded promptly. Only Winter kept staring at her shoes, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. Serena glanced at her: “If you have something to say, then say it.”

“Yes, Miss.” Winter jumped in surprise, instinctively lowered her head, and hesitated again when she tried to speak. Serena shot her a look and turned to leave, but Winter suddenly spoke up: “Miss, I... I overheard Ninth Royal Uncle say the word ‘Liancastle’ before he left.”

She didn’t know if this counted as betraying Ninth Royal Uncle, but she couldn’t keep it to herself.

“Liancastle? Again with Liancastle.” Serena halted, turned to Winter, and praised her: “You did well. Next time something like this happens, don’t hesitate. Remember, I am your true master.”

“Understood, Miss.” Winter wiped away a cold sweat, secretly relieved that she’d made the right call.

Night fell and the moon cast a pale light over the Imperial City. Serena didn’t rush to find Ninth Royal Uncle; instead, she planned to seek out Lance Quinn. Lance Quinn had deep ties to Liancastle—she wanted him to help pass on a message: first, to guarantee Feng Jin’s safety; second, so Liancastle knew she was aware of their involvement and wouldn’t be fooled by their secrecy.

Once the message was sent, Serena’s nerves finally relaxed. She collapsed into a chair, thinking about the recent mess of crises.

Maybe she should have listened to Ninth Royal Uncle and stayed out of the Cui Clan’s affairs. But...

If she always stayed passive and never took action, she’d end up just like now—always on the receiving end, dragging everyone around her down too.

“I wonder how Feng Jin is doing right now?” Just thinking of that tiny bundle made Serena’s eyes sting.

Feng Jin was still sick, and who knew if his captors would take proper care of him? Would his condition get worse in their hands?

Serena was deeply anxious, but Jason Lan—the one who’d grabbed Feng Jin—was just as irritable. After the drug wore off, Feng Jin had been crying nonstop, impossible to soothe.

Jason Lan wasn’t exactly a good man, but even he couldn’t bring himself to harm such a small child. More importantly, he’d learned from a spy planted near Ninth Royal Uncle that Feng Jin was connected to Zuo An, the continent’s number-one killer.

Just for that connection alone, Jason didn’t dare do anything drastic to Feng Jin. If something happened to the boy, Zuo An would come after him.

“You, go watch him. Don’t let him cry.” Jason, annoyed by the noise, pointed at random.

The woman he pointed at shuddered, then hurried to the bedside, picking Feng Jin up and gently patting his back while humming an indistinct tune.

Feng Jin kept crying, but with someone comforting him and sheer exhaustion, his wails gradually softened.

Jason Lan let out a breath and glanced up—only then did he realize the woman soothing the child was Clara Phoenixfield. He sneered, “Who knew you still had some use.”

Clara Phoenixfield flinched, her grip loosened, and Feng Jin slipped from her hands…

Waa—Feng Jin was terrified and burst out crying. Jason Lan’s face changed; he lunged forward and managed to catch Feng Jin just before he hit the ground.

Jason Lan exhaled, turned around with Feng Jin in his arms, and stood up. Once he was sure the child was unharmed, he turned to the culprit.

Clara Phoenixfield was pale and shaking all over. When she saw Jason Lan stand, she backed away in terror.

Cradling Feng Jin, Jason Lan closed in step by step and slapped Clara hard across the face. “Stupid woman.”

Clara’s head snapped to the side; tears and blood streamed down her face, but she didn’t dare make a sound. She looked every inch a bullied, pitiful young wife, but Jason Lan felt no pity at all. He shoved the frightened, crying Feng Jin back into her arms and threatened coldly, “Watch him carefully. If anything happens to him, I’ll make your life worse than death.”

Clara said nothing—she just clutched Feng Jin tightly, mechanically patting his back like a soulless puppet. Jason Lan was satisfied with her half-dead obedience and left.

After Jason Lan left, Clara stood frozen, still holding Feng Jin. Only her tears moved, dripping—dripping—onto Feng Jin’s face, splashing as they fell.

Feng Jin seemed to sense Clara’s grief. His crying faded, and his clear black eyes stared at her, blinking in confusion.

Meeting Feng Jin’s pure, innocent gaze, Clara broke down even harder. Feng Jin squirmed, reached out his tiny hand, and touched her. The warmth and softness shocked Clara; she choked up and burst into fresh tears, hugging him tightly and pressing her cheek to his.

She whispered, “Little one, don’t be afraid. Sister will protect you—even if I die, I won’t let you fall into that bastard’s hands.”

“Little one, trust me. Sister will definitely get you out.”

...

That night, Clara Phoenixfield held little Feng Jin and wept uncontrollably. As she cried, the deadness in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by new determination.

Even if it’s just for the little one in her arms, she has to fight. She can’t go on living like this—a walking corpse—any longer.