In the Eastlyn Imperial Capital, all kinds of factions were gathered—princes, young masters, you name it. Adding one more like Prince Nathan of Southlyn barely made a ripple; everyone just went about their business as usual.
The Emperor had originally planned to welcome Prince Nathan with full honors, but as soon as Nathan arrived in the capital he made his allegiances clear, which greatly displeased the Emperor. That night’s welcome banquet was arranged at the lowest possible level; the Emperor only stayed for a short while before excusing himself, leaving the Crown Prince to host.
Every official present at the banquet was a seasoned veteran; the Emperor’s attitude said it all, so no one dared to be overly warm to Prince Nathan. Only the Crown Prince treated him with genuine friendliness.
During the banquet, Prince Damien of Southlyn didn’t try to kick Nathan while he was down. Instead, he stood with Nathan, showing the Eastlyn crowd that Southlyn’s royal family was still united.
How the princes fought among themselves was one thing, but when facing outsiders, they would always join forces to protect their kingdom’s interests and reputation. Prince Damien’s gesture wasn’t anything special—anyone in his position would have done the same.
The welcome banquet was dull and uneventful. The Emperor left early, and Ninth Royal Uncle didn’t attend at all, so everyone dispersed quickly.
Whether by design or coincidence, the Emperor actually arranged for Prince Nathan and Prince Damien to live together, claiming it was for convenience—so the brothers could look after each other.
Prince Damien put on a polite face, but inside he was cursing the entire Eastlyn imperial clan’s ancestors.
Putting the brothers together just made it easier for them to kill each other, didn’t it? Why didn’t you have Prince Terrence and Prince Adrian of Lyndaria share quarters, or toss Princess Yara in with Adrian? Emperor, your tricks really are something—I curse your whole family.
No matter how much resentment he felt, Prince Damien still had to smile and thank the Emperor for his thoughtfulness. Outwardly, he had to keep up the act of brotherly harmony—even if everyone knew the truth, they couldn’t let it show, or the royal family would lose face.
After the banquet, the two Southlyn princes, Nathan and Damien, walked out together, accompanied by the Crown Prince and several Eastlyn princes including Adrian Dongling.
The two walked close together, their faces still wearing fake smiles even with their backs to the other princes. Only when they were sure they were out of the Eastlyn princes’ sight did they abruptly separate.
"Hmph..." Damien shook off Nathan's hand as if it were a virus, tossed his head arrogantly, and strode off to the left.
Nathan didn’t mind at all. He smiled gently, took out a handkerchief, carefully wiped the spot Damien had touched, and then tossed the handkerchief away.
The brothers split up and headed to their quarters, but by coincidence they ran into each other again at the main gate.
Damien immediately ordered his sedan bearers: "Charge—rush inside!"
"Your Highness?" Nathan’s deputy looked to him for instructions after seeing this scene.
If this were Southlyn, Nathan would never give an inch and would fight Damien for it. But now, in Eastlyn, there was no need to be aggressive—there was no benefit in embarrassing Damien here.
"Yield."
"Yes, sir."
Nathan’s act of yielding made Damien feel triumphant. He marched straight into the main courtyard, making it clear he would live there alone and not share it with Nathan.
This was another clever move by the Emperor. Damien’s residence was large, but there was only one main courtyard. By rank, Nathan—as the eldest prince—should have had it, but Damien arrived first and claimed it. Now, getting him to give it up was impossible.
The Emperor had hoped to see a fight between the two brothers, but...
"I’ll stay in the side courtyard." Nathan didn’t compete with Damien at all, fully displaying his gentlemanly restraint—which only made Damien look like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum.
This wasn’t Southlyn. Who was he trying to impress? In Southlyn, he had no choice but to fight Damien; not fighting would make the officials think he was weak and useless, and the Emperor would despise him.
Southlyn people loved to fight and always wanted the upper hand. Damien was exactly that type—right or wrong, he had to win. But faced with Nathan’s constant concessions, Damien couldn’t feel happy at all; he went back inside and smashed another set of teacups.
"Bastard! In Southlyn you fight me over everything, but now in Eastlyn you suddenly sheath your claws? Who do you think you’re fooling?"
Fooling who? Obviously, the Eastlyn Emperor.
As soon as Nathan arrived in the capital, he was put under surveillance. The Emperor knew exactly how long Nathan stayed at Feng Manor, what he did, even the disdainful, arrogant gesture Nathan made at the palace gates.
Hearing that Nathan and Serena Feng were as friendly as ever, the Emperor praised, "Smart kid—he hasn’t forgotten his roots."
When the Emperor heard that Nathan had thrown away the handkerchief after wiping his hand, he laughed, "After spending so much time with Ninth Royal Uncle, this kid is starting to pick up his habits."
As for Nathan’s willingness to yield, the Emperor was even more pleased. He disliked Damien’s sharp, aggressive nature—people like that were too arrogant, and he knew that excessive force leads to disaster.
"Keep watching them. As for the Young Clan, handle it as you see fit. It’s almost time to ease off—don’t push them too hard." With mysterious benefactors continuing disaster relief, the crisis was stabilizing, and the Emperor didn’t want to drive the Young Clan to extremes.
If you push a rabbit too far, it’ll bite. Forcing the Young Clan into a corner and making them lash out would be a bad move.
The Young Clan couldn’t take on all four kingdoms, but if they turned against Eastlyn, even if they couldn’t shake the foundation of the realm, it’d be trouble enough. The Emperor cared about the whole country and didn’t want to do anything that would weaken national strength right now.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Ninth Royal Uncle had his shadow guards, but the Emperor also had a secret department—the Imperial Inspection Bureau. He’d originally created it to monitor the officials, but now it listened in on the entire realm.
After finishing state business, the Emperor stood up. The chief eunuch hurried over to support him, eyeing the gold tokens at his waist. Seeing the Emperor in good spirits, the eunuch grinned and said, "Your Majesty, I have happy news to report."
"Happy news? What is it?" The Emperor perked up immediately.
Ever since the Heaven-Sacrifice Ceremony ended, everything had gone smoothly for him. The Emperor was in a great mood and even more convinced that Felix Fuller was his lucky star. If there was more good news, it’d be the icing on the cake.
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"Your Majesty, Lady Wendy Wen is pregnant—almost two months along, according to the imperial physicians." The chief eunuch’s face bloomed with joy; anyone watching might think his own wife was having a child.
"Oh? Lady Wen is expecting? Good... reward her." The Emperor was clearly delighted.
At his age, it was awkward for a man—not old, not young. The Emperor refused to admit he was aging, and concubines having children was proof he was still vigorous.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Would you like to visit Lady Wen now? The physicians say she’s in excellent health—the little prince or princess will surely be healthy." The eunuch pressed his advantage.
The Emperor had plenty of princes, but he lacked princesses. If a little princess was born now, she’d be showered with affection.
"Let’s go..." With state affairs running smoothly, the Emperor was in the mood to visit his beauties. But after a few steps, he suddenly remembered that Noble Consort Helena Hsieh was also pregnant—and her conception had coincided with the True Dragon sign.
"See the Noble Consort first." Only then did the Emperor realize he hadn’t visited Helena in a long time. The Hsieh clan had contributed heavily during the snow disaster, but... Helena’s rank was just below the Empress, and she couldn’t be promoted any further.
"As you wish, Your Majesty." The chief eunuch was surprised the Emperor remembered Helena, but quickly composed himself and led him to Radiant Hall.
As her belly grew, Helena grew more anxious. Every day she stared blankly at her stomach, worrying she’d give birth to an unhealthy child, fearing defects—especially in recent days, when her anxiety had only gotten worse.
Simply put, Helena was suffering from prenatal anxiety. Talking to someone could help, but she couldn’t voice her worries—they had to stay bottled up, and the vicious cycle was wearing her down. Her belly grew, but she grew more and more haggard.
"I want to see Serena Feng. I want to see Serena Feng." Helena clutched her old nurse’s hand tightly, her fierce eyes now filled only with pitiful tears.
"Your Grace, Miss Feng's family is in mourning—that counts as a filial period. She can’t enter the palace." The old nurse patted Helena’s hand to comfort her.
It wasn’t that they hadn’t tried to find a way—just that the Hsieh clan refused to risk it.
If they brought Serena Feng into the palace now and word got out, the Emperor would be furious.
There was no shortage of imperial physicians in the palace. The Emperor would never summon Serena just because she was skilled in obstetrics, not while General Feng and Madame Feng’s bones were still unburied.
"Damn it! When are her parents being buried? If she can’t handle it, let the Hsieh clan help. I must see her—I must! Do you hear me?" Helena’s tears vanished, her phoenix eyes flashing with hidden fury.
"Don’t worry, Your Grace. As soon as Miss Feng leaves home, I’ll bring her in." The old nurse kept soothing her, and just as they were discussing how to sneak Serena into the palace, a eunuch’s shrill voice rang out: "The Emperor arrives!"
The Emperor? Why was he suddenly at Radiant Hall? Helena and her attendants were startled, and the old nurse couldn’t help but ask, "Why is the Emperor here?"
"Hmph, it must be because news of that wretched Lady Wen’s pregnancy reached his ears, so now he remembers me." Even on the verge of collapse, Helena’s palace instincts were razor-sharp.
"Your Grace, don’t be angry—don’t let it affect your health. The Emperor is here, so whatever you do, don’t mention Miss Feng. You must seize this chance to make him care about the dragon heir you’re carrying. Lady Wen is pregnant, and soon other concubines will be too. When there are too many little princes, none of them will be special anymore."
The nurse quickly called for maids to tidy Helena’s appearance, but...