Attack, Ninth Royal Uncle Will Become a Thing of the Past

The command tent was now empty. With everyone gone, Serena and Prince Nolan could finally relax. Nolan let his body slacken, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes, deep in thought...

"The toxin is spreading fast. Whoever did this went all out." Serena didn’t recognize the poison, so she could only make a basic assessment.

"It’s a see-blood-and-seal-throat poison. Their target was General Warren Yu." Even though Nolan was normally immune to poisons, this one had left him dizzy and unclear. Still, he used the crisis as a chance to mend fences with Serena.

Serena had already guessed from General Warren Yu’s expression and wasn’t surprised at all. "Did you take the Valley Master’s antidote pill?"

"I did." Nolan slumped halfway over the table. Only in front of Serena did he ever drop his guard and show weakness.

"Let me help you lie down." Nolan’s wound needed immediate attention. Aside from the poison, the injury was packed with tiny shards of silver, many of which were embedded deep in the flesh.

She could only hope those silver fragments hadn’t damaged any blood vessels or nerves. Otherwise, Nolan’s left hand was in real trouble.

"No—I refuse to lie down here." Nolan shot a look of disgust at the messy tent, making his dissatisfaction clear.

Even now, he was being picky. Serena nearly wanted to hit him. "You can’t move anymore. Don’t think that just because you took the Valley Master’s antidote, you’re in the clear."

Any movement would only accelerate his blood flow and make the poison act faster. If it reached his heart, not even her best skills could save him.

"I’m fine. I can walk." Nolan braced himself with his good right hand and stood before Serena, determined to show he wasn’t as weak as she claimed.

Serena knew she couldn’t win this argument, so she said, "I’ll have a guard help you."

Nolan would never let anyone carry him while he was still conscious.

"No need. You help me." Seeing Serena hesitate, Nolan added, "No outsiders can know I’m hurt." If word got out, the troops’ morale would suffer—and Night City might seize the chance to attack. No matter what, he had to hold out for another day or two.

"You can’t hide it." His entire left arm was nearly useless, and Nolan still wanted to cover it up. Serena thought this was just self-torture.

"I can. Go get... the coat behind the screen and help me to your tent." Nolan had already planned everything: they’d slip out the back of the command tent, and her tent was only a hundred meters away. From there, he could keep an eye on her at all times.

Even when handling official business, Nolan was always scheming. But his plans were so deep that without someone to point them out, Serena, practical as she was, couldn’t see through them.

Could this man not be so maddeningly indirect? Why couldn’t he just be straightforward for once?

Serena was exasperated, but seeing Nolan lying there pale and bloodless, her heart softened again. He’d fought so hard to get to this point. They’d both paid too much, and wasting their lives on pointless stubbornness was just not worth it.

Lance Quinn’s death had reminded Serena how fragile life was. No one knew what could happen next. If you didn’t learn to cherish what you had while you were alive, then if something happened to either of them, the survivor would spend a lifetime in regret.

Forget it... She wasn’t going to argue with a man this emotionally clueless.

Watching Nolan’s uneasy sleeping face, Serena let out a soft sigh and leaned close to his ear. "Don’t think about anything. Just get a good night’s sleep—tomorrow, everything will be better."

Everything will be better.

This injury was worth it. Nolan closed his eyes, satisfied, and relaxed completely to let Serena treat him.

......

Since Serena had promised things would be better, she wouldn’t keep up the cold war with Nolan. But to go back to how close they were before, as if none of this had happened—she just couldn’t lie to herself like that.

Nolan wasn’t the type to push his luck, either. Serena had already taken a step back; that was enough. The rest of the wounds, he’d heal slowly. All Serena had to do was stand there and wait for him to come to her.

They still had time, and he had plenty of patience.

But Prince Damien of Southlyn wasn’t about to give Nolan much time to recover. The assassin that day had been sent by Damien—a specialist in hidden weapons and poison.

But the assassin failed that day. As he fled, he fired a cold arrow at General Warren Yu. Whether it hit or not, no one knew.

As soon as Prince Damien of Southlyn learned that General Warren Yu was unharmed, he put his counterattack plans on hold. Two days later, when he heard that Nolan had been holed up in Serena’s tent all this time, he immediately sensed an opportunity.

"Eastlyn’s Ninth Prince is gravely wounded—he’s as good as dead." It wasn’t a suspicion, but a certainty. And no one in Night City doubted his word.

"Now’s our chance. Eastlyn’s troops are shaken. We move as planned." Prince Damien rapped the table and stood, his spirits high. After being beaten back by Nolan for so long, it was finally their turn to strike back.

"Yes, sir." Night City’s general obeyed without hesitation. By the time Reid Yale got word, the generals were already challenging Nolan’s army on the battlefield.

Reid Yale couldn’t stop it. All he could do was demand an explanation from Prince Damien: "Damien, have you lost your mind? Don’t you realize Night City only has ten thousand troops? You’re sending ten thousand men to provoke Nolan’s fifty thousand—are you trying to get us all killed?"

Reid was so furious he could kill someone. Those ten thousand cavalry were his last bargaining chip. If they died on the battlefield, he’d have no way to hold onto Night City. He’d be left with nothing.

"Nolan is on his deathbed, Eastlyn’s army is leaderless—this is our best chance to counterattack. We’re certain to win." For once, Prince Damien was patient as he tried to persuade Reid.

But Reid still held the troops, and as Night City’s lord, he had a core of loyalists. Blowing things up now would do Damien no good.

Reid hesitated, fell silent, then snapped, "For something this big, you should at least consult me."

"Military matters are urgent—opportunities vanish in a blink. If we wait for Night City to make up its mind, Eastlyn will have recovered, and we’ll have lost our chance."

It was just an excuse, but Reid couldn’t refute it. All he could do was watch as Prince Damien took charge on his turf.

Reid was speechless, fuming as he stormed off. Prince Damien didn’t care, but Old Gray, standing behind him, couldn’t help asking if he should kill Reid to silence him.

"No need. Night City is too small to worry about." Damien’s goals were always clear, and he knew exactly what he wanted. Right now, he wanted Eastlyn.

If Nolan died here, and fifty thousand troops were buried with him outside Night City, the Eastlyn Empire would be thrown into chaos. And chaos meant opportunity—the start of Damien’s era.

Eastlyn’s Ninth Royal Uncle would soon be history.