Festering Wounds and the Day You Fall Into My Hands

Reid Yale was never one to put the bigger picture first. When he suspected Serena Feng of being the killer, he rushed headlong to attack Feng Manor, wasting his advantage and throwing away a golden chance to strike at both Ninth Royal Uncle and Serena.

Now, convinced the murderer is from Westlyn, Reid barely hesitates before deciding to side with Eastlyn. He wants Eastlyn’s help to stabilize Night City—but even more, he wants their power to avenge his father.

Sure enough, after the Emperor helped Reid to his feet, Reid immediately asked Eastlyn to help him take revenge. The Emperor loudly condemned Westlyn, but gave no promise of action—no details, no real commitment.

“Westlyn slaughtered Night City’s Lord on Eastlyn soil, trying to sabotage the alliance between Eastlyn and Night City. Such evil can’t be tolerated, and their intentions are criminal. Minister Ye, put your mind at ease—this Emperor will never let Westlyn off.” That was all the Emperor said before sending Reid away.

After Reid left, the head eunuch sidled up, all flattery: “Congratulations, Your Majesty. Such good fortune!”

“It’s too soon to celebrate,” the Emperor said modestly, but he couldn’t hide the delight in his eyes.

With just a small trick, the Emperor made Night City bow to Eastlyn. For him, this was a feat worthy of song. Once Reid Yale brings his father’s spirit home and buries the City Lord, he’ll have to formally submit to Eastlyn. The Nine Provinces Realm will no longer be ‘four kingdoms and nine cities,’ but ‘four kingdoms and eight cities.’ The Emperor will be the one who changed the continent’s order—a clear signal to all...

“Your Majesty is wise and masterful, commanding victory from a thousand miles away. With Lord Fu leading the charge, it’s only a matter of time before you conquer not just Night City, but Chu City, Cloud City, and Lian City too.” The head eunuch had read the Emperor’s mood perfectly—his praise hit right on target.

The Emperor’s smile grew even wider. “Fu Lin truly is my favored general. Go to my private treasury and pick out some fine medicinal herbs—send them to Lord Fu.”

When the Emperor values someone, he rewards them!

That night, Felix Fuller received a lavish reward from the palace. Seeing the gifts, Felix understood the Emperor’s goal was achieved—his sacrifice had been worth it.

“Reid Yale, I really overestimated you. You fell so easily. But maybe that’s for the best—this way, you’ll live a few years longer. Being too clever isn’t always a good thing for you.”

Felix dismissed the eunuch who delivered the imperial edict and was about to tell his steward to put away the gifts, when suddenly pain shot through his injured leg. Felix lost his balance and nearly collapsed, saved only by a servant’s quick reflexes.

“Master, what’s wrong?”

“My leg—quick, fetch a doctor!” The leg Felix had taken a bullet in was now numb after the agony, his pupils dilated in terror as he frantically pulled up his trouser leg.

The wound that the imperial physicians had stitched up had split open again, pus and blood oozing down his calf. In just one day, the injury was reeking. Even those who knew nothing about medicine could see Felix Fuller’s wound had gone bad.

Because the Emperor valued Felix Fuller, he sent two trauma-specialist imperial physicians to stay at Feng Manor. As soon as Felix cried for help, the doctors arrived.

No one at the Fuller Estate slept a wink that night. Every time Felix’s wound was bandaged, it split open again, with pus pouring out nonstop. Worst of all, Felix burned with a constant fever.

The imperial physicians stayed up all night, but nothing worked. Near dawn, Felix was delirious with fever, and the doctors, at their wits’ end, rushed to the palace to report and beg the Emperor to send more help...

The Emperor had the Imperial Guards search Feng Manor, but found nothing. The guards watching Serena Feng outside Feng Manor quietly withdrew. Still, without imperial orders, no one in Feng Manor dared go out, and outsiders kept away for fear of trouble.

Of course, 'ordinary people' never included Ninth Royal Uncle. Nolan Dongling was never ordinary—so while everyone else kept far away from Feng Manor, he arrived in full princely regalia, red carpets rolling out for miles, making a grand entrance.

When Serena Feng heard the news, she looked up at the sky and, under Tong Jue’s urging, reluctantly changed into formal attire, leading everyone at Feng Manor to kneel outside in greeting.

She hated it most when Ninth Royal Uncle put on a show. Every time he did, she was the one who suffered—rain or shine, she had to kneel outside to greet him.

Two hundred guards led the procession. As soon as the guards appeared, Serena had to kneel.

“Greetings, Your Highness—may you live a thousand years!” Serena knelt on the ground, silently counting in her head. After three hundred and twenty counts, Ninth Royal Uncle’s sedan finally stopped with a thud.

Gold-trimmed black boots, a four-clawed python robe, white jade accessories—Serena stole a glance, then quickly lowered her head.

This was the prince’s official attire. Ninth Royal Uncle rarely dressed this way. Seeing it, Serena knew he was here on imperial business, carrying out the Emperor’s orders. She steadied herself and prepared to respond.

Serena more or less knew why Ninth Royal Uncle had come, so she wasn’t worried at all. After the formal greeting, she followed him inside Feng Manor.

As Feng Manor’s sole master, Serena couldn’t hide. She obediently sat at the lower seat, waited for the servants to serve tea, waited for Nolan to finish his tea, waited for him to size her up, waited for him to act deep and mysterious, and then...

Ninth Royal Uncle still didn’t speak.

Serena glanced at him—expressionless. She calmly looked away, focused on her breathing, and recited Treatise on Cold Damage in her mind. If Nolan wouldn’t speak, she wouldn’t either. In his overwhelming presence, whoever spoke first would lose.

Time slipped by. Nolan was always patient—he could go ten days or half a month without saying a word. Serena was good, but compared to him, she was still a bit lacking.

Still, under Nolan’s training, Serena had improved a lot. Facing his oppressive silence, she forced herself to stay calm and managed to recite the entire Treatise on Cold Damage from memory.

Ninth Royal Uncle was the best study aid.

Serena thought to herself. Though Nolan’s face showed no emotion, she noticed his fingers curl slightly around his teacup—he was displeased.

Serena didn’t dare get distracted. She looked up at Nolan, blinking expectantly, waiting for him to speak first.

With a sharp snap, Nolan set his cup down and said coldly, “Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“If Your Highness wishes, I have nothing to say.” Serena rose, bowed, and showed the same respect and caution she reserved for the Emperor.

“Are you sure?” Nolan tapped the table, anger simmering beneath his calm.

Serena quietly lowered her head, avoiding Nolan’s seemingly casual but actually domineering gaze.

She’d handled the Night City affair beautifully. Even if the Emperor and Felix Fuller suspected she’d played dirty, so what? Let them prove it.

She’d been watched by the Emperor’s men the whole time—Felix Fuller’s injury had nothing to do with her...