Grand Ceremony, Bitter Without a Son to Rely On

Besides Jason Lan’s letter begging for medical treatment, there was also a sealed message sent from Liancastle.

The secret letter discussed not only Jason Lan’s health but also the recent developments in Liancastle. After Jason Lan fell ill, the old City Lord regained control, but it seems even he can’t keep the situation in check.

Several power-holders in Liancastle appear to have their own supporters. After Jason Lan collapsed, they started vying for control, leaving Liancastle unstable and leaderless.

“Miss, we could make a move—swallow up Liancastle.” Mira Summers’ eyes gleamed with ambition, but it wasn’t the kind that made people uncomfortable; it was a sign of confidence in her own abilities.

Serena Feng had to admit, Mira’s proposal was tempting. But Serena knew full well that no matter how tempted she was, she couldn’t touch Liancastle.

Whether it was Liancastle or Tyre City, those were destined to be Nolan Dongling’s future territory. As imperial vassals, the Phoenixfield Clan could never carve out their own kingdom—they couldn’t repeat the mistakes of the Former Dynasty.

Mira instantly saw where Serena’s thoughts were heading and quickly explained, “Miss, we don’t need to use force. All we have to do is pick the right person inside Liancastle, help him rise to power, and then everyone benefits.”

In short, find a proxy within Liancastle, help that person ascend, then use him to profit from and even control the city.

Just like back then, when Nolan Dongling backed the dismissed Westlyn crown prince Titus—no one thought Titus would succeed, but with Nolan’s support, he took the throne, and Nolan gained control over Westlyn’s politics.

If this were before, Serena would’ve agreed without hesitation. But now, it simply wasn’t worth it. In a few years, Nolan Dongling would send troops to conquer the major cities. Anything she built now might not even yield a tenth of the benefit before it was all swept away.

Serena didn’t even have to think before she turned down Mira’s suggestion.

Trying to snatch food from a tiger’s mouth? She’d rather not—even if that tiger happened to be her own partner…

The next day, Nolan Dongling led his troops out. At the city gate, a grand send-off ceremony was held; the crowds packed both sides so tightly you couldn’t squeeze through, and all around people buzzed about Ninth Royal Uncle and William Wang.

There was no helping it—the ceremony was full of ministers all over fifty, so Nolan Dongling and William Wang stood out sharply among them.

One was proud and commanding, the other gentle and dignified. The two faced each other—a picture of ruler and minister in perfect harmony…

At the auspicious hour, the army set out!

Nolan Dongling bid farewell to the ministers, took his seat in the imperial war carriage, and led ten thousand troops toward the Northlyn front!

The common people knew nothing about the court’s inner struggles, nor Nolan Dongling’s true reasons for personally leading the campaign. All they saw was the Regent Prince risking his life to defend Eastlyn.

As they watched Nolan Dongling and the army depart, the people of Eastlyn spontaneously shouted, “Victory to Eastlyn!” “Victory to the Regent Prince!”

“Victory to Eastlyn!”

“Victory to the Regent Prince!”

……

The cheers rose in wave after wave. Even when Nolan Dongling’s army was nothing but a distant shadow, the crowd’s enthusiasm didn’t fade; they kept shouting, “Victory to Eastlyn!” “Long live Eastlyn!”

If “long live” weren’t reserved for the emperor, these people would probably be shouting, “Long live Ninth Royal Uncle.”

In fact, quite a few people in the crowd, caught up in excitement, did shout “Long live Ninth Royal Uncle”—just too quietly, quickly drowned out.

William Wang stood at the front of the officials, watching Nolan Dongling’s figure grow distant, a faint smile on his lips: “Still knows how to win hearts—Ninth Royal Uncle’s move really kills several birds with one stone.”

“What?” His words were too soft; the officials beside him didn’t catch a thing, only vaguely hearing William Wang’s voice.

“Send word to the Grand Empress Dowager: the Regent Prince has set out, so she needn’t worry. With her praying for him at the temple, he’s sure to return victorious.” Thinking of Lady Min far away at the temple, William Wang’s mood brightened even more.

At that same moment, Serena Feng had left the city at dawn, climbing to the mountaintop to watch the army fade into the distance. In her heart, she silently wished: Come back safe!

The wind whipped her robes and long hair like a waterfall, wrapping her in a cloak of parting sorrow. Serena was lost in the mood, until Zuo An, standing behind her, ruined it with a grumble: “How much longer are you going to stand here? This wind feels like knives on my face. If you’re not hurting, I am.”

Serena coughed awkwardly—her bittersweet mood shattered by Zuo An. She turned and shot him a glare. “We’re leaving now.”

She took one last look at the army’s fading shadow, then turned to head down the mountain. Zuo An followed, grumbling with a cold face, “So many people sent off Ninth Royal Uncle, but it’s just you up here. Dragging me out at dawn to climb a mountain, really?”

…Serena regretted it. She should’ve left Zuo An with Sun Sixing and brought Ling Mo instead. Ling Mo was much more agreeable—at least he wouldn’t complain about her odd moments.

Fine, she admitted it was stupid to climb up the mountain before dawn just to watch the army leave. But it wasn’t her fault—she didn’t know what possessed her. The image popped into her head and seemed to fit the mood, so she just went with it…

She remembered how beautiful this scene looked in TV dramas and movies. So why, when it was her turn, could she barely see anything—and the wind hurt her face?

Oh, and her feet ached from the climb down too.

She swore she’d never try this kind of ‘romance’ again. It was pointless—she suffered, and Nolan Dongling wouldn’t even know.

The moment Ninth Royal Uncle left the capital, all the suppressed factions started stirring again, each scheming to grab some advantage for themselves. Some even eyed Lady Min as a possible target.

Too bad Nolan Dongling had already made preparations. He cleared out all of Lady Min’s old attendants; now, everyone around her was his own person.

These people, loyal to Nolan Dongling, served Lady Min attentively—but their orders were to turn her into a ‘seeing blind woman’: not a single scrap of outside news would reach her ears.

When Lady Min woke up, she was stunned—she never imagined she’d end up like this. She hadn’t come to Eastlyn to be some old woman praying in a temple; she came for the power of Grand Empress Dowager or Empress Dowager. Now…

“I want to go out for a walk.” Lady Min forced herself to swallow her anger.

She still needed Nolan Dongling—she couldn’t let her true self slip in front of him. Otherwise, she’d really block her own way.

“Of course, Your Ladyship…” Her attendants didn’t stop her, but Lady Min could only walk inside the courtyard. The moment she tried to leave, hidden guards blocked her path, and the novice monks outside firmly refused to let her out.

Lady Min wanted to curse out loud. She’d never been treated like this before—not even when she was forced into the palace. What was this supposed to be?

Clenching her fists, Lady Min told herself to endure—just hold out until the investiture ceremony, and then she could get out.

She hated this damn temple—she couldn’t stand another minute!