Ninth Royal Uncle, Ruler of Clouds and Rain

Dominic Zhai!

Serena Feng smiled. As expected of a true scion—his arrow landed perfectly.

Dominic Zhai strode in with his head held high. "Assassins? Princess, you must be joking. Eastlyn is peaceful and prosperous—there are no assassins here. And even if there were, no one would bother targeting you. Killing you brings no benefit. Any assassin with a brain wouldn’t waste time and effort on a princess."

He stopped beside Serena Feng, raising his bow to show that he was the one who had fired the arrow.

"Heir Zhai? What do you mean by that?" Princess Yara wanted to laugh, but couldn’t.

Dominic Zhai’s meaning was all too clear: as a princess, she was hardly worth the trouble—even killing her would be a waste.

"Just what I said. Whether the princess understands or not doesn’t matter. After all, for a Lyndarian princess to come to Eastlyn and bully Eastlyn’s people—that’s not something just anyone can pull off." If Serena Feng still cared about status, Dominic Zhai clearly didn’t.

No matter how favored, a princess was still just a woman. In royal families, women’s value was for forging alliances or marriages. No matter how clever Princess Yara was, she couldn’t escape this fate—and this time, Lyndaria was already hinting at a marriage alliance with Eastlyn.

It was no surprise—Princess Yara would likely be married off to Eastlyn. But to whom, that was anyone’s guess.

When that day came, no matter how exalted she was in Lyndaria, she’d have to follow Eastlyn’s rules.

"Heir Zhai, is this how Eastlyn treats its guests—speaking so rudely to a neighboring princess? What are you really after?" The more noble the woman, the prouder she was. Dominic Zhai’s pointed words made Princess Yara furious, her smile growing stiff.

"And what are you after, Princess, putting a blade to the necks of Eastlyn’s people?" Dominic Zhai gestured toward Serena Feng and Simon Sun, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Princess Yara’s eyes flickered, then she quickly smiled. "A misunderstanding, of course. I was merely accompanying Serena Feng to the wooden hut at Feng Manor, to witness her remarkable medical skill."

Princess Yara waved her hand, signaling the guards to let them go. No one was hurt—what did it matter? To her, they were just commoners.

"Princess, you must be joking. Did Serena ever say you could witness her medical skills? My master’s rules are clear: only formal disciples may observe core techniques. Are you planning to become my disciple, Princess? But I haven’t received your formal salute yet." Backed by Dominic Zhai, Serena Feng pulled Simon Sun to stand beside him.

Honestly, at this moment, she found Dominic Zhai’s venom strangely endearing.

"Princess, Miss Su, Serena doesn’t object to you witnessing the open-chest surgery, but first you must become my disciples. My requirements aren’t high—just three kneelings and nine kowtows will do. Once you perform the formal ceremony, we can talk about everything else."

"Become your disciple? What kind of thing are you?" Princess Yara knew Serena Feng well enough to hold back, but Su Wan underestimated her and snapped in anger.

"Serena is a person. Miss Su, are you a thing then? What kind of thing, exactly? Why not enlighten us?"

Hahahaha...

As soon as Serena finished speaking, Dominic Zhai burst out laughing. Seeing Dominic laugh, Simon Sun couldn’t hold back anymore and grinned, “Master, how could Miss Su Wan be a ‘thing’? She’s definitely not a ‘thing,’ right?” (Note: ‘不是东西’ is a Chinese insult meaning ‘not even a person,’ i.e., ‘scum’ or ‘wretch.’)

"Good disciple, you’re absolutely right—Miss Su Wan really isn’t a ‘thing’ at all." Serena joined in the laughter, her earlier gloom swept away.

But Serena knew perfectly well that her real opponent wasn’t Su Wan—it was Princess Yara of Lyndaria, that venomous woman.

"Serena Feng!" Su Wan’s expression didn’t change, but her smile turned stiff, and the jeweled hairpins in her hair trembled ever so slightly.

As a noblewoman, she’d been trained since childhood to keep smiling, no matter the situation—smile serenely, smile mysteriously, smile until your opponent’s confidence wavers. But…

Wearing too many ornaments was a mistake. One careless moment, and her true feelings slipped out for all to see.

"No need to remind me of my own name, Miss Su Wan. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave. Farewell to you both." This time, Serena truly meant to send them away—she grabbed Simon Sun and strode off without looking back.

Dominic Zhai might not be the most honorable man, but he was loyal enough—he’d never let these two women bully an Eastlyn native.

"Stop her." Princess Yara commanded.

"I dare you." Dominic raised his bow and arrow.

He wasn’t a princess—he couldn’t just march troops around as he pleased.

"Why wouldn’t I dare? I have the Eastlyn Emperor’s decree. Or are you, Prince Dominic, planning to defy an imperial order?" Princess Yara rested her hand on her maid’s arm, looking every inch the regal noblewoman as she confronted Dominic with icy authority.

The Lyndarian guards surrounded Serena, but none dared step forward.

They weren’t princesses—if Dominic Zhai actually killed them, they’d just have to accept their fate.

"The Emperor’s decree? Where is it?" Dominic’s eyes darkened.

"It’s the Emperor’s spoken command. Both Miss Su Wan and I have received it—the Emperor allowed us to come and witness Serena Feng’s medical skills. Prince Dominic, surely you don’t think I’d lie about something like this?" Princess Yara said, her posture unyielding.

This was the very definition of acting with impunity.

Wave the imperial flag, and suddenly you can get away with anything.

Hearing this, Dominic hesitated. The Emperor had been looking for a mistake from the Prince Samuel line for ages—if this was really an imperial order, then standing up for Serena against Princess Yara would count as defiance. If the Emperor decided to punish him, his grandfather would have to give up his power just to protect him.

Dominic ground his teeth. No wonder the Emperor had put him in charge of inner-city security lately, forbidding him from leaving without a decree—it was all a trap, dug in advance for him to fall into.