Pleading for Mercy, Dorian Acts Foolish Again

In the end, Nolan Dongling couldn’t keep Serena Feng by his side. Under his thunderous expression, Serena didn’t hesitate at all—she turned and followed the Eighteen Riders back to the Capital.

Serena didn’t answer Nolan’s question. Instead, she asked, “What’s your real reason for not letting me return to the Capital alone? Tell me—whatever it is, I’ll drop everything and go to Night City with you. But there’s one thing: you can’t lie to me.”

Her last words stopped Nolan cold. He stared at Serena, saying nothing, his deep eyes eerily calm.

If he said it out loud, it would be better just to let Serena go back.

“You really know how to hurt someone.” Nolan’s silence cut Serena like a knife, leaving her bleeding inside.

Serena said nothing more. She jumped down from the carriage and left with the Eighteen Riders. Nolan didn’t even get out to see her off. Just like that, they parted ways, each heading off to their own battles.

Since Serena wasn’t going to Night City, Nolan refused to stay in the carriage. That same day, he abandoned it, mounted a fresh horse, and raced toward Night City at top speed.

He rode under the stars and moon, finishing what should have been a month’s journey in less than twenty days. His personal guards were so exhausted they collapsed as soon as they reached camp, and the stationed soldiers had to carry them into the tents.

“Nolan Dongling is here—so soon?” Warren Yu jumped up at the messenger’s report and hurried outside to greet him.

“Your humble general greets the Regent Prince—may you live a thousand years.” Warren Yu, ever shrewd, bowed deeply to Nolan with utmost respect. Seeing Nolan alone, he didn’t mention Serena at all.

“At ease.” Nolan tossed his riding crop to a nearby attendant and strode toward the command tent. “Report: what’s the current situation between our forces and the enemy?”

Warren Yu quickly followed, explaining the situation between both sides as they walked, and giving a detailed account of the recent battles.

There had been several small-scale skirmishes. Night City had only suffered ten or twenty thousand casualties, while Eastlyn’s losses had reached fifty or sixty thousand.

“What tactics is Night City using?” Nolan paused, glancing sharply at Warren Yu. Warren’s heart skipped a beat; he quickly composed himself and answered with extra caution: “Their victory isn’t due to tactics, but to weapons. Night City has fielded a batch of strange iron war-wagons—mobile houses bristling with weapons. They’re impervious to blades and arrows, and trenches do nothing to stop them. On the battlefield, they’re devastating.”

“So you kept sending your men to die against those iron wagons, even though you knew how deadly they were. You risked your soldiers’ lives anyway.” Nolan’s voice grew cold, his gaze suddenly razor-sharp. “General Warren, you’d better tell me the whole truth, or I won’t hesitate to take your head and offer it to the army banners.”

Thud—Warren’s knees hit the ground before his brain could even react. “Forgive me, Regent Prince!”

Nolan snorted and strode straight into the command tent, leaving Warren kneeling outside.

“Send my order: summon the deputy generals for council.” Nolan was travel-worn and dusty. Normally, he’d wash up first, but tonight his mood was foul—he called everyone together at once, humiliating Warren by leaving him kneeling outside in front of the whole camp.

Dorian Owen now served as a junior officer under Warren Yu’s direct command. From a distance, he saw Warren kneeling outside the main tent and was instantly dumbstruck. He grabbed a colleague: “What happened to the general? I was only gone for a minute—how did he end up kneeling out here? Who in this camp could make him do that?”

After a month in the army, Dorian had learned just how strict Warren Yu’s discipline was, especially toward him. Dorian now understood what ‘military orders are absolute’ meant, and how much authority a general truly held.

Here in the army, Warren Yu was king. His word was law. Right or wrong, reasonable or not, orders had to be followed—no one had the right to say no.

“I heard the Regent Prince just arrived and chewed out the general.” Dorian’s personality was impossible not to like—even though he’d parachuted into the unit, Warren’s old hands were fond of the simple-minded but sharp young man.

Warren’s old subordinates knew their own prospects had peaked. Nolan Dongling wasn’t about to promote them further, so they didn’t mind if Dorian got a little credit.

“Regent Prince? Is he bigger than Ninth Royal Uncle? So even the general’s scared of him?” Dorian’s bright eyes were full of confusion, making the worried veterans laugh. One flicked his forehead and grinned, “You silly kid—the Regent Prince is Ninth Royal Uncle! Don’t you know he’s running Eastlyn’s government now?”

“What? The Regent Prince is Ninth Royal Uncle? You mean Nolan Dongling is here?” Dorian’s eyes lit up with joy. “So we’re about to win, right?”

“You really think just because Nolan Dongling is leading, we’ll win?” Warren’s veteran sounded uneasy.

General Warren Yu had lost so many men and still couldn’t take Night City. If Nolan Dongling wins easily, Warren’s reputation among the military brass will be finished.

“Win? Of course we’ll win!” Dorian didn’t catch the subtext at all. Excited, he added, “By the way, where are the people who came with Nolan Dongling? I want to ask them to plead for the general—he can’t just stay kneeling out here.”

The previously unhappy soldiers broke into smiles at that. One pointed toward a nearby barracks. “Over there.” Warren’s personal training hadn’t been wasted—this kid actually had a conscience.

“Great, I’ll go beg for the general. You guys keep quiet—don’t spread this around.” Even Dorian understood that if word got out about the general kneeling outside, Warren would lose all authority in the army.

“Good kid, you’ve got a conscience. Go on.” Warren’s veteran clapped Dorian hard on the shoulder, eyes shining with unshed tears.

Dorian, oblivious, stumbled forward and nearly fell, earning a round of good-natured laughter. “Look at you—skinny as a bean sprout. Better toughen up, or the wind’ll blow you over.”

Dorian scratched his head sheepishly and ran off. Once out of sight, he slowed down, rubbing his sore shoulder with a pout. But the thought of seeing Serena soon made him brighten up again.

He’d behaved himself this time—no showing off his martial arts, no grabbing credit, just learning from Warren and the veterans. Surely Serena would praise him now and maybe even let him lead some troops.

Just imagining the future—wearing a general’s robe, riding a warhorse, commanding with Warren’s authority—made Dorian’s blood boil with excitement. He wished Serena would give him a unit right now so he could charge onto the battlefield.

Dorian’s excitement cooled the moment he entered the barracks and saw a heap of exhausted soldiers sprawled everywhere. No way—was Serena really here? Nolan would never let her sleep among all these men.

Did he go to the wrong place?

Dorian stepped back out and grabbed a passing soldier. When he learned that everyone who’d come with Nolan had been quartered there, his heart sank.

Where was Serena?

Dorian looked up at the sky, then remembered Nolan had gone straight to the command tent—Serena must be with him! His disappointment turned into determination, and he dashed off toward the main tent.

Warren, still kneeling outside, saw Dorian approaching. He wanted to warn him off, but then thought better of it. Nolan’s anger had to land somewhere—better on someone else than on him. So Warren bowed his head, pretending not to see Dorian at all.

After all, Dorian belonged to Serena Feng. No matter how furious Nolan got, he wouldn’t go so far as to kill Serena’s people…