Serena Feng only felt herself being lifted up, then fell into a gentle embrace. The world spun for a moment before she landed on the ground. Just as she was about to look up and see who had saved her, Prince Damien of Southlyn rode over.
"Lance Quinn, I didn’t expect to run into you here. Rumor has it you’re always meddling in Eastlyn affairs for Serena Feng—looks like it’s true after all."
Lance Quinn?
How could it be him?
Serena Feng looked up, but because of the height difference, all she could see was the man’s chin—and the half-silver mask on his face.
Lance Quinn—how could it be him? How could he be the one to save her?
Such a coincidence—a top martial expert from the jianghu just happened to be here? Serena Feng truly couldn’t believe the world worked like that.
"Rumor has it the Third Prince of Southern Lyn is the most beautiful man in the land—looks like that’s true too." Holding Serena Feng, Lance Quinn shifted his stance slightly, leaving a clear path for Prince Damien, making it obvious he was only here to rescue, not to fight.
Prince Damien had never planned to fight Lance Quinn anyway. If using Serena Feng could lure Lance Quinn here, it put Damien in a great mood—at least Serena Feng wasn’t completely useless.
"Sir Lance, you flatter me. I’ve always admired you, and meeting you here today must be my lucky day. I’ve long hoped to work with you—would you be interested in a second-rank grand generalship in Southlyn?" Prince Damien made his most sincere offer, inviting Lance Quinn.
It’s easy to find a thousand soldiers, but hard to find a single true general. Lance Quinn has the talent of a commander—every kingdom wants to recruit him, but he refuses to serve anyone.
"Thank you for your generous offer, Your Highness, but I’m a wandering free spirit—I can’t be tied down. Besides, I’m from the Eastlyn Empire. Would you really trust me?" With the mask covering his face, no one could see the deep mockery in his eyes.
They say the world always shifts between division and unity, but it’s only just split apart—yet these people are already dreaming of uniting it again, imagining themselves as conquerors without checking if they’re even capable.
"If you trust someone, you use them; if you doubt them, you don’t. Sir Lance, you should think it over. You may be from Eastlyn, but you live in the jianghu; you’re a free man, not an Eastlyn official.
Besides, you know how Eastlyn’s imperial court is—its emperor’s grip is weakening, and there are too many famous generals for you to make your mark. Southlyn is different; Southlyn truly needs talent like yours." Prince Damien was genuinely trying to recruit him.
He knew perfectly well that if a renowned wanderer like Lance Quinn ever truly served him, he’d never betray him. But hopes are one thing, reality is another—Lance Quinn would never be his to command.
"Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness, but I have no plans to take office." Lance Quinn refused flatly, then kindly reminded him: "Your Highness, dawn is breaking. Without your protective talisman, you’ll be out of time if you don’t leave now."
After being rejected again and again, Prince Damien’s face turned ugly. If he couldn’t recruit such talent, he’d rather kill him—but judging their relative strength, Damien realized that if they fought, he had no chance of winning.
Now that Serena Feng was in Lance Quinn’s hands, it was impossible for Damien to snatch her back. It looked like he’d have to swallow this loss today. With dawn approaching, he had no choice but to leave.
"Sir Lance, my offer stands—Southlyn’s gates will always be open to you." Prince Damien said stubbornly. Without waiting for Lance’s reply, he glanced mockingly at Serena Feng and added, "Serena Feng, we’ll meet again. I hope you’re just as lucky next time."
With those words, Prince Damien whipped his reins and galloped away.
"I don’t know if I’ll be this lucky next time," Serena Feng said, "but I do know that right now, you’re not so lucky." As Prince Damien turned to leave, Serena broke free from Lance Quinn’s arms and drew her gun, aiming at him.
She pulled the trigger—bang! The bullet shot out of the barrel.
Prince Damien sensed movement behind him and his face changed. He twisted to the side, but underestimated the speed of the bullet—it grazed his shoulder, sending a burning pain through him.
"What kind of hidden weapon is this?" His shoulder was torn open, exposing bone. He was over a hundred meters from Serena Feng, yet the wound was so severe.
Prince Damien turned to check, only to see another projectile coming his way. He quickly moved his wrist to block with his blade, but that tiny black dot punched straight through the steel.
"Impressive!"
Prince Damien’s face grew even uglier. He was certain Serena Feng was the one firing, but if she had such a powerful weapon, why hadn’t she used it earlier?
Wait... He’d thrown Serena Feng into the water—how could she still have a hidden weapon? Did Lance Quinn give it to her? Impossible; if Lance wanted him dead, he wouldn’t need a secret weapon.
In a flash, Damien considered every possibility, but still couldn’t figure out what was going on with Serena Feng’s weapon.
Seeing Serena Feng aiming her weapon at him again, Prince Damien knew he wouldn’t get the upper hand today. He could only grit his teeth, swallow the humiliation, and clutch his wound as he left.
"Serena Feng, I’ll settle this debt with you."
"Hyah..."
Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he sped away...
"Count yourself lucky you ran fast." Serena Feng hadn’t even fired her third shot before Prince Damien vanished from sight, leaving her to angrily holster her gun.
"Lance Quinn, thank you." Now that she knew it was Lance Quinn who’d saved her, Serena Feng couldn’t tell whether she was more surprised or disappointed.
Still, it was better than having no one save her at all.
"Just happened to be passing by—you got lucky. But now you owe me again. How do you plan to pay me back?" Lance Quinn’s eyes flashed coldly as he looked at Serena’s clothes, which were as tattered as pickled vegetables. When he saw the marks on her neck, his expression grew even colder.
Achoo...
Serena Feng suddenly felt a chill. Her half-wet, half-dry clothes seemed to radiate cold. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms for warmth, finally relaxing when she felt a bit of heat.
"Didn’t you say last time you wanted me to save someone? Can I repay you with that?" She really didn’t want a repeat of last time, when he asked her to kill.
Her profession made her less concerned with laws, but that didn’t mean she liked killing—she never took lives without reason.
"What else can you do besides that?" Lance Quinn glanced at Serena Feng’s miserable state, hesitated a moment, then took off his outer robe: "Put this on."
If she caught a chill, it would be trouble. Lance Quinn wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t want other men seeing Serena Feng like this.
"Thank you." Who would have thought this man was cold outside but warm inside? Serena Feng tied the robe into a knot, wearing it as a cloak.
But as soon as he took off his robe, Serena Feng noticed blood on Lance Quinn’s left arm. "You’re hurt? Is it serious? Let me check."
Serena Feng stepped forward to examine his wound, but Lance Quinn dodged her. "No need, it’s just a scratch. Come on, I’ll take you back to the city."
Lance Quinn kept his distance, acting cold and aloof.
If he hadn’t used so much force to snatch her from Prince Damien, he wouldn’t have reopened the wound.
"If you don’t treat the wound, it’ll get infected." Serena Feng didn’t care about Lance Quinn’s coldness. To her, he was just someone she happened to know; his attitude didn’t affect her mood at all.
Infected? What’s that?