Game of Wits, Dispersing Serena’s Suspicions

This world has never truly known peace; times of rest and recovery are merely preparation for the next war.

Lance Quinn pointed at the mourning hall and said, "Princess Yara Valen died in Eastlyn. This is a perfect opportunity for Lyndaria. Lyndaria will definitely use Yara's death as an excuse to send troops against Eastlyn."

Lance spoke without the slightest hesitation, startling Serena Feng: "Lyndaria sending troops? They actually want to attack Eastlyn? Are they insane?"

Lyndaria just lost three hundred thousand soldiers. If they go to war again, they'll be the ones suffering. What could Lyndaria possibly gain from this?

Serena couldn't make sense of it.

She couldn't figure it out, and Lance Quinn had no intention of explaining. The three black-clad figures in the mourning hall quickly left, leaving Lance and Serena with a stroke of luck.

As soon as Lance entered, he began inspecting the dead night watchers: "Definitely the work of Lyndarian death-soldiers."

Serena walked over to Princess Yara's corpse, somehow producing a pair of gloves before she began examining the body. "Princess Yara was murdered—not killed by strangulation. There are fresh marks on her neck, probably left by those three black-clad men just now. They wanted to stage a scene of her being strangled and then hanged, but their technique was so crude."

Serena curled her lip in disdain.

If her senior sister were here, she would definitely look down on the killers. So sloppy—even murder should be done professionally. This was a disgrace to the craft.

"How did you figure that out?" Lance Quinn had somehow drifted to Serena's side.

Drifted, because Lance's footsteps made no sound at all.

Serena pointed at Princess Yara's corpse and pried open her mouth. "The simplest sign: if someone was hanged, their tongue would be extended—what people call the look of a 'hanged ghost.' Hanging is agonizing, suffocating slowly, and the facial expression becomes twisted with pain. To relieve it, the victim usually grips the rope with both hands, leaving marks, and their legs kick wildly in the air, leaving bruises. But look at Princess Yara..."

Serena traced downward, showing Lance the marks on Yara's body.

She wasn't a professional forensic expert, but her senior sister was. She'd picked up the basics.

Lance nodded, but didn't touch Princess Yara's corpse. Yara had been beautiful, but after two or three days dead, no corpse looked good—especially in this heat. Prince Chase hadn't put ice by her body, so it was already rotting. The mourning hall reeked.

"Can you tell how she died?" Lance gestured for Serena to step outside.

This wasn't a place to linger.

"No, I haven't found the cause yet. I want to examine her again." Serena wasn't a professional forensic expert—she couldn't deduce the whole case.

Lance shook his head, refusing: "There's no need. How she died doesn't matter. What matters is we know she was murdered."

"So you know who the killer is? Who did it?" Serena asked.

"I don't know who did it, but I know who's behind it. It's either the Lyndarian royal house or the Eastlyn imperial family. If Eastlyn acted, Lyndaria gave tacit consent. Princess Yara's death is just an excuse for both kingdoms to attack each other. This has nothing to do with us." Lance pulled Serena by the arm and led her out.

Serena had just touched the corpse.

They retraced their steps back to the room. Lance lit the lamp, Serena packed away her gloves and washed her hands thoroughly. She wanted to discuss Princess Yara's case, but Lance tossed out, "Go back to Feng Manor first thing tomorrow. I've got things to do—I'm leaving." And he was gone.

"Wait—" Serena tried to chase after him, but he was already gone. How could she catch up?

The sudden light in her room caught the attention of the patrolling guards. "Miss Feng, are you all right?"

That's the downside of staying as a guest, Serena sighed, pretending to be drowsy. "I'm fine, just got up for some water."

Then—with a whoosh—she blew out the lamp.

The room went pitch dark. Serena silently cursed Lance for meddling—why did he have to snuff out her lamp when he left? Now she couldn't even turn it on without being questioned.

After a long, exhausting night, Serena was worn out. She refused to sleep on the bed, so she settled at the table instead. Lance lingered in the shadows, only leaving once her breathing had steadied.

Lance Quinn arrived at the hidden chamber in Sutton Manor, where Vincent Su was still up, lamp burning, poring over intelligence from across the realms. Vincent looked up in surprise: "What are you doing here?"

"I went to investigate Yara's death," Lance said, sitting down.

"Yara's death?" Vincent yawned. "What's there to investigate? It was either Lyndaria or Eastlyn—or maybe Prince Chase. Either way, Yara would never have killed herself."

Nobody's an idiot these days. Anyone with half a brain wouldn't believe Eastlyn's official story.

"Tonight, Lyndarian agents tampered with Yara's corpse to make it look like she was murdered," Lance revealed. Vincent snapped awake: "What is Lyndaria playing at? Are they just bored?"

"Tomorrow, Lyndarian officials are coming to Eastlyn. They were supposed to enter the city by imperial decree, but when they heard Princess Yara was dead, they decided to delay by a day and pay their respects in the morning." Lyndaria had set the trap; now Eastlyn just had to take the bait.

"What a coincidence? What game is Lyndaria playing now?" Vincent sneered.

Lance shook his head, enigmatic: "No, it's not Lyndaria; it's the Princess Royal."

"Princess Royal? What's that crazy woman up to now?" Vincent instantly grew wary at the mention.

That woman's a maniac—politically sharp but reckless, always acting for herself and never caring about the bigger picture.

In other words, her vision is narrow—she only cares about power in Lyndaria.

"If Lyndaria and Eastlyn go to war, who is most likely to lead the troops?" Instead of answering, Lance asked back. Vincent's eyes widened: "You mean the Princess Royal is using this to undermine Titus's military authority?"

Lance nodded emphatically. "Titus's rise has threatened the Princess Royal. On top of that, his marriage to a Cui Clan daughter has the Lyndarian Emperor's blessing. The Princess Royal can't sit still any longer."

"That crazy woman—doesn't she care if all of Lyndaria despises her?" Vincent gritted his teeth.

He hated playing politics with women—they were never rational, and would do anything for their own gain.

"Why should she care? If the war goes badly, Titus will take all the blame." Lance sneered, then added, "By the way, the one who poisoned the Emperor was traced to Lyndarian agents, but they used death-soldiers, so there's no proof."

"Lyndaria? No wonder the Emperor pinned the crime of harming imperial heirs on Yara after her death. Looks like this war between Lyndaria and Eastlyn is inevitable—even if Lyndaria didn't want it, Eastlyn wouldn't let it go." Vincent sighed.

It was clearly the Princess Royal's scheme, but Titus was the one taking the fall. She kept herself spotless, always plotting from the shadows, never showing her face.

"Even if Eastlyn and Lyndaria don't fight, Southlyn won't allow it." Lance closed his eyes, hiding his exhaustion.

Every kingdom is making secret moves—no one can sit still. Right now, only Northlyn is relatively peaceful. Maybe leaving early for Northlyn is best—at least there, you can avoid these meaningless wars.

"What does this have to do with Southlyn? I haven't found any evidence of Southlyn's involvement." Vincent looked at Lance, uneasy.

Did he miss something important?