Blood-Red, Stepping Forward Over Your Corpse

Help her up or not?

This really isn't even a question—Serena Feng never intended to step forward and help Princess Yara up. If she wanted to help, she would have done it already; why would she still be stuck in this standoff with Princess Yara now?

Judging by Princess Yara’s pale, sickly appearance, Serena was sure something was wrong with her body. Not only should she not help, she should keep her distance.

In modern terms, Princess Yara was pulling an injury scam—plus a shakedown. Sick and weak, she just wanted to pin it on Serena. Dream on. Did she really think Serena Feng was that easy to bully? Even if she was, Princess Yara could pick any other day to make trouble—why today, of all days? She was clearly just here to ruin things for Serena.

Serena was so angry she ground her teeth, her eyes blazing with fury.

So Princess Yara really planned to drag things out with her today?

Fine. Who’s afraid of whom?

Serena stood her ground, cold and unmoving, refusing to step forward. The two of them were locked in a stalemate.

They could wait—but time couldn’t. The burial hour was set, and if they kept dragging it out, they’d miss the window for laying the coffins to rest.

"Master, we can’t wait any longer. We have to leave the city—if we don’t go now, it’ll be too late." Simon Sun stepped forward and quietly reminded her.

Even if we don’t leave the city, we can’t just block the city gate with all these people. If we stay too long, Dominic Zhai won’t be able to hold out—he has enemies, and his position is watched by countless rivals.

"I want to leave too, but unfortunately, Princess Yara refuses to budge."

"Serena Feng, are you really not going to forgive me?" Yara’s voice trembled, her whole demeanor that of a pitiful victim.

Disgust flickered in Serena’s eyes. If brute force won’t work, then let’s see how she handles a softer approach.

Serena stepped back, turned slightly to face away from Yara, paused to think, then softened her expression—showing helplessness and a hint of restrained anger.

“Princess Yara, the ground is cold—please get up. You’re the honored princess of Lyndaria, the future Princess Consort to Prince Adrian. My parents cannot bear such a grand gesture. Let’s talk things through. Please don’t act like those drama queens who wail, make a scene, and threaten to hang themselves, as if I’m the one bullying you.”

You’re a noble Lyndarian princess, while I’m just an orphan who’s lost both parents. Even if I beg you, can’t you let me go? If not, at least let my parents rest in peace—don’t delay their burial. If you want someone kneeling, I’ll kneel for you!”

Thud—Serena dropped to her knees, keeping an arm’s length from Yara.

So you want to play the helpless victim? I can do that too. You kneel for my parents and they resent it; I kneel for my parents and my heart is at peace.

Serena shot Yara a challenging look. Yara’s face turned even paler, her body swaying as if she might collapse at any moment.

Beautiful!

Prince Titus of Lyndaria stood to the side, secretly admiring her move.

If the situation weren’t so tense, he’d be clapping and cheering.

Serena’s counterattack struck right at Princess Yara’s weak spot.

A so-called princess pretending to be a delicate flower or pitiful waif? No one would buy it. Serena was different—she didn’t have to act; she truly was pitiable. And today was her parents’ funeral, giving her every advantage: the right place, the right time, and the hearts of the people.

Titus let out a breath of relief.

By the looks of it, he didn’t need to worry about Serena. Even in grief, she wouldn’t fall for Yara’s schemes. Yara was simply outmatched—he’d overestimated her.

The two women knelt there, the ground icy cold, but Serena didn’t care. She would outlast Yara, who looked sickly even at a glance. Serena knelt, head held high, making it clear she would not yield.

Princess Yara’s face was deathly pale, her lips bitten as she glared at Serena—her eyes full of hate, as if she wanted to devour her. There was no trace of reconciliation. Serena let out a cold snort and said nothing, just knelt in place.

Yara was certain Serena wouldn’t dare risk delaying her parents’ burial, and Serena was just as sure Yara’s body couldn’t take much more. As a grown woman, Yara couldn’t even handle this—how pitiful.

The two of them just kept kneeling. Yara was holding on by sheer willpower, but blood was starting to seep beneath her. Serena’s sharp eyes caught it instantly, and remembering Yara’s affair with Prince Adrian, her eyes widened in shock.

Yara was pregnant—at least four or five months along. How could no one have noticed?

Damn it, harming a royal heir is a capital offense. Was Yara trying to drag Serena’s entire family down with her?

Serena took a deep breath, forcing down her rage. She shot William Warren a look, signaling him to stir up the crowd and put pressure on Princess Yara.

William didn’t know Yara’s condition, but he understood that if this dragged on, it would be bad for both Serena and Dominic Zhai. He nodded and stepped forward.

"Princess Yara, I have no idea what act you’re putting on, but there’s no real feud between you and Serena. You’re the honored princess of Lyndaria, the future Princess Consort to Prince Adrian. Serena is just an orphan—how could she possibly dare to cross you? Talking about erasing grievances is just ridiculous; there was never any real feud to begin with."

Today is the day Serena’s parents are being laid to rest. The dead deserve respect. Princess Yara, I hope you’ll remember that and show mercy—don’t block the road and delay General Feng and Madame Feng’s burial. What you’re doing is disrespectful to the dead."

William’s words echoed Serena’s, but his were even sharper. He called out Yara’s malicious intent, accusing her of deliberately making things difficult for Serena and preventing the burial.

"Yara, get up. Whatever needs to be said can wait until General Feng and Madame Feng are buried. If you’ve been wronged, I’ll report it to the Emperor and ask him to make things right for you." This was none other than Yara’s fiancé, Prince Adrian.

"That’s right, Yara. If you’ve been wronged, just tell our royal brother. And if you think he can’t avenge you, write to our father—the king will send troops to tear your enemies to pieces."

This is what it means to have no allies—and even worse, to be betrayed by your own side. Yara’s so-called teammates just stabbed her in the back.

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The two men who came with her, speaking up one after another, only made her look guiltier—they confirmed she was the one making trouble for Serena.

Would Princess Yara ever swallow her pride for Serena? No—if she suffered here, she’d have her father intervene, and not just Serena, but ten Serenas would be doomed.

That threat sounded all too believable.

"Princess, please move aside. Don’t delay us any longer." Dominic Zhai pleaded, his voice weary.

"Princess Yara, I don’t know what my sister did to offend you, but why go so far? You’re forcing General Feng and Madame Feng to be denied a peaceful burial. Standing before their coffins, does your conscience not ache? Are you not afraid of going straight to the eighteenth level of hell?" Prince Nathan of Southlyn spoke bluntly, showing no mercy.

"Princess Yara, even stubbornness has its limits. Today is General Feng and Madame Feng’s funeral—we’re in no mood to play games with you." Caleb Wang joined in, rebuking her.

But none of them matched Simon Sun. He simply begged: "Princess Yara, please move aside, we’re begging you. If my master kneeling isn’t enough, we’ll kneel for you—just let them be buried in peace."

Simon might be naive, but he was quick to learn. Seeing Serena kneel, he immediately copied her—thud, he dropped to his knees.

Who was Simon Sun? Maybe not many knew him before, but after the free clinics, nearly everyone in the Capital recognized his name. Today, most mourners were disaster survivors helped by Serena and Simon. When Simon knelt, they didn’t hesitate—they knelt too.

"Princess Yara, we’re all kneeling and begging you. Please get up, please let General Feng and Madame Feng be laid to rest."

One voice alone is weak, one person’s strength is small. But what about thousands?

At the city gate, when thousands knelt and pleaded with Princess Yara, their voices rang out: "Please get up, please let General Feng and Madame Feng be buried in peace."

Could Princess Yara keep up her act? Could she still play the victim, pretending Serena was bullying her?

She couldn’t...

And so Princess Yara was utterly defeated—by the very disaster survivors she’d looked down on.

"Princess Yara, we’re kneeling for you. Princess Yara, we’re begging you..."

Yara felt the world spin. All she could hear were the people’s voices begging her. In an instant, she’d become the cruel, spoiled princess bullying Serena.

How could this happen? How could this happen?

She’d been in control—how did things flip so suddenly?

Princess Yara shook her head over and over, but she couldn’t hold on any longer. Her body wavered, ready to collapse.

"I..." Yara tried to defend herself, wanted to tell them to shut up—it wasn’t her bullying Serena, it was Serena refusing to help her up. If Serena would just help, she’d stand.

But...

She didn’t have the strength to speak. Even if she did, her voice would be drowned out by thousands.

Yara pinned her last hope on Prince Titus, praying he’d help. But Titus had already turned away, refusing to even look at her.

You reap what you sow—who else could she blame?

She could have remained a noble princess, but chose instead to play the pitiful waif, thinking her sob story would work. Foolish, brainless woman.

With her last hope gone, Princess Yara finally collapsed, fainting forward. Serena knew she wasn’t faking and immediately called out, "Prince Adrian, Princess Yara has passed out—please take your fiancée away."

"What? She fainted? She’s not pretending, is she?" Prince Adrian blurted out, his words so tactless that if Yara were awake, she’d probably faint again from rage. Too bad...