Debasing Oneself, Serena Feng’s Sharp Tongue

Expressionless, Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan cast a coldly mocking glance at the Emperor, completely ignoring imperial protocol and everyone’s opinion. He took Serena Feng by the hand and led her straight back to his own seat.

Serena was momentarily stunned, but seeing Nolan’s calm composure, she smiled and walked with elegant poise, sitting down beside him.

She wasn’t the type to seek humiliation; before, she’d endured the Emperor’s abuse without fighting back simply because she had no leverage. Now that Nolan was standing before her, she wasn’t about to play coy and refuse his protection.

Serena’s lips curled in a faint smile as she swept a casual glance at the Empress, feeling quite satisfied at the shock on her face.

So brazen, so defiant of the throne—there was truly no one else in the world like Nolan. Not just the entire court, even Prince Damien of Southlyn was left speechless.

Back in Southlyn, no matter how arrogant he was, Damien would never dare show a hint of disrespect in front of his own father. When the monarch commands a subject to die, the subject must obey. No matter how powerful he became, he could never surpass the king—one word from the emperor, and he’d be dead without a trace.

But what about Nolan?

Damien narrowed his eyes, sizing up Nolan. He wanted to know what kind of backing Nolan had that allowed him to ignore imperial authority and publicly disrespect the Emperor in front of so many. A man like that...

If he can’t be an ally and must be an enemy, what a pity. With that thought, Damien found himself blaming Su Wan again—she couldn’t even win a man’s heart, so much for the Su clan’s women.

Everyone was shocked by Nolan’s audacity, but soon another fact grabbed their attention: no one had ever sat beside Nolan before—Serena was the first.

Compared to Nolan’s blatant disregard for the Emperor, everyone was far more curious about his relationship with Serena. Was it really as the rumors said? Was Serena truly Nolan’s woman?

If that were true, then why hadn’t Nolan spoken up just now when Damien and Prince Yong were fighting to marry Serena?

Everyone was full of doubts, but not a single person dared ask aloud. They just stared at Nolan, waiting for his answer. Unfortunately, Nolan was still angry—his mood foul, his face cold, and he had no intention of speaking.

He was displeased that Serena had dressed up so extravagantly, letting so many people see her like this.

The Emperor was angry too, but he knew that exploding at Nolan now would only make him look bad. He sat up straight and laughed, "It’s rare to see Ninth Brother showing pity for a beauty. Truly, I’m amazed."

"Your Majesty, I don’t understand how to cherish fragrant jade," Nolan replied, rising and bowing slightly—giving the Emperor back a bit of face.

The Emperor felt a little better—he didn’t care what Nolan said, only about his attitude. If Nolan embarrassed him in front of the princes of Southlyn, Westlyn, and Northlyn, he wouldn’t let Nolan off easy. No one cared more about saving face than a king.

The ministers quickly echoed the Emperor’s words, smoothly providing excuses for Nolan’s breach of etiquette. Serena found it both amusing and infuriating—how the same action could have such different effects depending on who did it. The only thing worth celebrating was that this time, Nolan was standing in front of her.

The court was harmonious, a picture of peace—until someone couldn’t stand it. Damien suddenly stood up, raised his cup toward Serena, and said, "Miss Feng, you truly are as beautiful as the rumors say. I drink to you."

With that, he drained his wine in one go.

“The Third Prince flatters me. Compared to you, I’m just a slender willow,” Serena replied graciously, rising to her feet and draining her own cup.

"You..." Damien hated people mentioning his looks—Serena had definitely crossed his line. Seeing her face also reminded him of the underground palace incident; it was because of Serena that he’d lost so badly. Fury surged, and he gripped his wine cup so hard it shattered, shards digging into his palm as blood dripped down...

Such a short-tempered man—though Serena couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just an act. She showed nothing on her face, but made a mental note of it.

"Forgive my rudeness," Damien said, releasing the shards. They fell to the floor as the murderous aura around him eased slightly. But someone who’d seen blood before couldn’t just shake off that killing intent so easily.

"Someone, summon the imperial physician!" The Emperor looked tense, but inwardly he was sneering—clearly, Damien still held a grudge over what had happened before. Serena really was unlucky.

"Yes, Your Majesty." The eunuch took the order and turned to run, but Damien stopped him: "Thank you, Your Majesty, but it’s only a minor wound. I’ve heard Miss Feng is skilled in medicine—may I ask her to bandage it for me?"

Damien gave Serena no chance to refuse. He strode right up to her, extending his blood-soaked hand—just as he had the first time they met—his gaze bone-chilling and cold.

Drip, drip...

All the dishes on the table were tainted by his bloody hand—none were spared.

This was a provocation!

Too bad—Nolan didn’t pay Damien the slightest attention. And in the Eastlyn palace, Serena wasn’t afraid of him either. She spoke in her usual calm voice: "Is the Third Prince not worried I might tamper with your wound?"

"Not at all. I trust you," Damien declared, making it clear he was stepping on Serena’s pride—showing her that whatever he wanted her to do, she couldn’t refuse, not even here in Eastlyn.

A tasteless man—he was begging for a lesson.

Nolan frowned, about to speak, but Serena winked at him, her eyes full of mischief. Nolan understood she had a plan, so he relaxed and sat back, expression calm.

"If that’s the case, I won’t let you down," Serena said. Before Damien could react, she grabbed the wine jug and poured it directly over his wound.

It all happened so fast—no one in the room expected Serena to do such a thing, not even Damien himself.

"Ah—!"

The fiery liquor hit the wound, and even Damien couldn’t help crying out in pain. He yanked his hand back, shouting angrily, "Serena Feng!"

Now that’s real anger, Serena thought, making a mental note. She chuckled lightly. "Third Prince, you’re so delicate—not only do you look like a woman, but your temper’s just as fragile. That won’t do. If you don’t clean that wound properly, it’ll rot, and it’d be a shame to lose your left hand."

With that, Serena ignored him, walked to the center of the hall, and offered the Emperor a graceful standing bow instead of kneeling. "Your Majesty, the Third Prince is far too precious—I’m afraid I can’t treat such a delicate hand. Please summon the imperial physician. If his hand is ruined, it would be a real pity. A beauty like him shouldn’t be marred."

One moment calling him pitiable, the next calling him a beauty—Serena had succeeded in provoking Damien. He turned and mocked to the Emperor, "So arrogant and unruly, with no self-control—Eastlyn’s noblewomen really are beneath contempt. I’ve seen it for myself now."

"Feminine, crafty, arrogant, and shameless—Southern Lyn’s men really are disgraceful. I’ve had my eyes opened," Serena retorted without hesitation, earning the Emperor’s approval.

"Serena Feng, you’ve got a lot of nerve—how dare you insult the men of Southlyn!" Damien’s true nature was violent; seeing Serena like this, he wished he could slap her dead on the spot.

"How is telling the truth an insult?" Serena dipped her chin, her proud bearing outshining even Damien’s. For a split second, Damien was dazed—how could a mere orphan carry herself with such arrogance?

The daze lasted only a moment before Damien recovered, sneered, and said to the Emperor, "Your Majesty, Eastlyn’s noblewomen really are worse than fishwives. I wasn’t wrong at all."

"Worse than fishwives, yet you’re still begging to marry one? Are you just desperate for abuse?"