Fat Sheep, Capture Ninth Royal Uncle Alive

Faced with Serena Feng throwing herself into his arms, how could Nolan Dongling—Eastlyn’s Ninth Royal Uncle—refuse? He leisurely adjusted the hairpin in her hair and calmly remarked, “Lyndaria’s spies aren’t bad.”

"We’ve been discovered?" Serena asked in surprise.

We’ve only been here one day—how could we be discovered already? What’s the point of disguising ourselves then?

"Mm."

"Does that mean we need to change the plan?"

"Why change? So what if we’ve been discovered." Nolan Dongling—Ninth Royal Uncle—finished pinning the hairpin in Serena’s hair and withdrew his hand.

Serena Feng didn’t press further. She borrowed a bronze mirror from the vendor and checked her hair. The vendor, startled by Nolan Dongling’s cold stare, quickly recovered his merchant’s poise; seeing Serena examine her reflection, he started praising the hairpin in a practiced, flattering tone.

Serena had already planned to buy the hairpin—it wasn’t worth much, but it was a small treat. Before she could open her mouth, Nolan Dongling beat her to it: “We’ll take it.”

“Excellent choice, sir! You’ve got a real eye for quality. This plum-blossom hairpin is unique—see the carving, so fine and delicate… Only one like it in the whole market!”

The vendor kept extolling the hairpin’s virtues until Ninth Royal Uncle impatiently interrupted: "How much silver?"

Silver?

The vendor’s eyes lit up—he’d found a clueless fat sheep, asking straight for silver. (In the market, calling someone a ‘fat sheep’ means an easy mark who can be overcharged.)

He glanced at Serena, then at Ninth Royal Uncle, swallowed nervously, and bravely said, "Two taels of silver."

This wooden hairpin was worth, at most, ten copper coins. Two taels of silver could buy everything at his stall—and he couldn’t even make change for that.

Yet Nolan Dongling thought it was cheap, didn’t even bargain, and reached for his silver to pay—only to realize: “I didn’t bring any.”

After changing clothes, Ninth Royal Uncle hadn’t brought any silver as usual, so he stood awkwardly in front of the stall.

It seemed this was the first time Nolan Dongling had ever accompanied Serena Feng shopping, buying something for her—and yet…

Nolan Dongling looked at the hairpin in Serena’s hair—he’d put it there himself. Even if it had to be taken off, he couldn’t let anyone else buy it.

But he had no silver on him. Should he just steal it outright?

Nolan Dongling considered it and found the idea feasible—he was about to grab Serena and leave when she suddenly laughed, pulled out her hand, and took out her own embroidered pouch.

"I have some." Serena Feng knew the hairpin wasn’t worth that much, but since Nolan Dongling wanted it for her, she cheerfully handed over two taels of silver.

Seeing Nolan Dongling embarrassed was worth every bit of those two taels.

Ninth Royal Uncle was a master of strategy, but in many things, he was a total rookie.

The vendor beamed as he took the silver, his smile blooming like a chrysanthemum as he kept praising their taste—while secretly cursing Nolan Dongling and Serena Feng as wasteful fools.

But before leaving, Serena Feng exposed him: "If you want to call us idiots, just say it. You’re not only a dishonest vendor, you’re also a hypocrite. This hairpin’s only worth ten coins, but you asked for two taels. You really have the nerve."

With that, Serena Feng dragged Nolan Dongling away, leaving the vendor standing there dumbfounded, his face turning red and green by turns.

He’d thought he’d found a sucker, but it turned out they were sharp as tacks. Suddenly, those two taels of silver felt burning hot in his hand.

Nolan Dongling also noticed his ears burning. Once they’d left the street, he couldn’t help but ask, “If you knew it was only worth ten coins, why’d you buy it?”

As far as he knew, Serena Feng wasn’t the type to waste money.

"Because I felt like it." Serena Feng let go of his hand and flashed him a smile.

Uh... Nolan Dongling felt a headache coming on. He suddenly realized women were terrifying creatures—happy one moment, upset the next, with no warning at all.

Fine, as long as Serena Feng was happy. It was just two taels of silver anyway.

Wait—hold on. He’d meant to give it to Serena Feng, so why did she end up paying? Nolan Dongling grew frustrated and decided he’d have Su Wenqing tell his craftsmen to make a batch of plum-blossom hairpins.

Their good mood didn’t last. Suddenly, the number of people tailing them multiplied tenfold. They exchanged a glance and nodded, heading in sync toward a quiet spot.

They didn’t stop until they reached a deserted dead-end alley.

"You’ve followed us all this way—come out!"

This alley was a dead end—no way out. It was a trap for them, but at least they wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked from both sides. They just had to focus on the enemies in front.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

No one emerged, but the killing blow came first. Three arrows in quick succession, each fierce and aimed straight at Ninth Royal Uncle and Serena’s faces. Serena knew she was worst at dodging arrows, so she hurried to stick close to Ninth Royal Uncle and pressed herself against the wall.

The first three arrows missed, but the attackers still didn’t show themselves. Another three arrows came, this time skimming along the wall, their tips sparking against the stone yet losing no speed. Clearly, the archer was a master.

Damn! Who attacks without even saying a word? That’s not how you’re supposed to fight—at least give a warning first.

The arrows came too fast. The attackers knew her weakness and aimed only at her, forcing Serena into a messy dodge.

"Aren’t assassins forbidden in the imperial city? What’s going on here?" Serena Feng realized the attack was aimed at her, and suspected they weren’t Lyndaria locals—after all, everywhere she went, someone wanted her dead.

"Not assassins." Nolan Dongling pulled Serena Feng into his arms, reached out to catch the speeding arrow, and hurled it back at their attacker.

Thud...

Serena heard the sound of blood spurting and knew Ninth Royal Uncle had hit someone. She secretly breathed a sigh of relief, quickly drew her gun, flipped off the safety, gripped it with both hands, and took cover behind Nolan.

Serena Feng quickly drew her gun—her modern weapon, rare in this world—flipped off the safety, gripped it with both hands, and took cover behind Nolan Dongling.

Beside him stood a man clutching a bow in his left hand, his right arm stained with blood, eyes cold and venomous like a snake.

Serena knew this was the archer who’d attacked from the shadows. Judging by his wound, Ninth Royal Uncle had crippled him; even if he healed, he’d never draw that bow again.

Serena kept her gun hidden in her sleeve, aiming at the man with his arms folded over the sword. For some reason, she felt this seemingly harmless man was the most dangerous of all.

Serena took a deep breath. No matter who these people were, a fierce fight was coming.

Nolan Dongling subtly shifted to shield Serena Feng behind him, looking at their opponents with disdain. "Lyndaria’s Brocade Guard—since when do you resort to assassination? And sending your top killer, Wayne Hua? I’m honored."

Ninth Royal Uncle was mocking Westlyn for making a mountain out of a molehill.

The man with the sword paused, surprised that Ninth Royal Uncle recognized him instantly. Dropping his lazy facade, Wayne Hua switched his sword to his left hand and no longer dared underestimate Nolan. "Seeing you in person is better than your reputation. Today I finally meet the legendary Ninth Royal Uncle of Eastlyn—truly godlike. But this disguise..." Wayne Hua shook his head in regret. "Aren’t you afraid this outfit will tarnish your prestige?"

Wayne Hua mocked Ninth Royal Uncle for being an Eastlyn prince dressed in Westlyn garb, saying it disgraced Eastlyn’s national honor.