Fierce Battle, All Loyalty Exists Only for the Final Betrayal

As soon as Serena woke up, Prince Nolan knew it. He even knew the adorable, slightly self-conscious look she showed while eating in his study.

Prince Nolan didn’t need to think to know Serena was probably overthinking things—and in a very unhealthy direction.

He called Serena to the study to discuss important matters. A lot had happened last night, and he needed to tell her about it.

Last night, every faction in the capital sent out their forces. The battle turned into chaos, and in the end, everyone was left gravely wounded—none of the fighters could even stand.

The carriage stood alone in the middle of the corpses. Whether they wanted to kill Simon Sun or save him, anyone still breathing kept their eyes locked on that carriage.

They fought all night for that carriage, sacrificing dozens of lives—yet in the end, not a single one could get close enough to confirm if anyone was inside.

Was it all for nothing?

They struggled, they fought, and though some still had a breath left, none could crawl upright. Just as these dying men were about to give up, a shadow climbed out from the pile of corpses, staggering toward the carriage.

"Ding Mao, you’re still alive—good! Set it on fire. Burn the one inside." From the blood-soaked heap, a man spoke weakly, his joy so raw that the others wished they could tear him apart.

Only the Emperor’s men would want Simon Sun’s body to be burned to ashes.

Ding Mao froze, slowly raising his eyes. When he saw who had arrived, all color drained from his face. "M-m-my Lord..."

How could this be? Wasn't my Lord killed in the melee?

Ding Mao's face was as white as paper. He searched the heap of dead, but with so many bodies and the night so dark, he couldn't tell one from another.

"You have no right to call me 'my Lord.' You're a traitor." Felix Fuller didn't hesitate—he struck Ding Mao down with a single blow, never sparing a glance for whoever Ding Mao had dragged from the carriage.

They were irrelevant—only these fools would believe Simon Sun was actually inside that carriage.

Felix shot Ding Mao a contemptuous look. After a lifetime spent in hiding, he'd exposed himself for a mere decoy. Felix wondered if Ding Mao's master would be so angry he'd cough up blood.

Felix smirked, searched the pile of corpses for the imperial dark guard who'd spoken, and, finding him still alive, shoved a pill into his mouth. The medicine would keep him alive for two more hours—just enough to return to the palace and report Ding Mao's betrayal to the Emperor.

As for the mission?

As long as Simon Sun doesn't return to the capital to ruin the Emperor's plans, the mission is a success.

Felix Fuller carried someone off, moving so fast he vanished into the night. Zane Shore, hidden in the shadows, watched Felix go and shook his head, puzzled.

That man was powerful. He'd clearly spotted Zane, but hadn't said a word. Strange.

Zane Shore was a simple man. If he couldn't figure something out, he let it go. His job was to deliver Simon Sun to Mystic Healer Valley, then return for his payment.

Zane led another team forward. After this fight, their road would be safe for a long while. Even if trouble arose, with Zane around, Simon Sun had nothing to fear.

The battle outside the city last night couldn't be concealed. Dongming Zhai reported it as a jianghu brawl, and the Emperor accepted it without even investigating.

Investigate? Why bother? Those men were all suicide warriors, with no marks on them—impossible to trace. The Emperor had no interest in meddling in such trivial matters; as long as Simon Sun didn't interfere, he was content. He was far too busy.

The Emperor could accept spies in the Bloodcloak Guard, but traitors among the imperial dark guards were intolerable—they were crucial to his safety.

This time, not just the Bloodcloak Guard—the palace itself faced a bloodbath.

Anything that threatened the Emperor's safety was no small matter. Felix Fuller had won great merit once more.

When Feng Qingchen entered the study, Ninth Royal Uncle said little, simply serving her food with care. After they finished eating, he told her everything that had happened outside the city last night and during the day, so she could feel at ease and understand the current situation.

"The Emperor's dark guards are riddled with spies, and he never even noticed. Those men are truly impressive," Feng Qingchen mused, cradling her tea.

In truth, Feng Qingchen thought Felix Fuller was absurdly lucky—he always seemed to stumble into good fortune. Now the Emperor trusted him even more.

"It's normal for the Emperor not to suspect the dark guards—the selection is strict, and their identities are always vetted. They've always been loyal, so there was no reason for the Emperor to doubt them." Ninth Royal Uncle raised his brows, surprised Feng Qingchen focused on the dark guards.

"If even the Emperor's carefully chosen guards can't be trusted, what about my own people? What if one of them is a hidden traitor?" Feng Qingchen fretted.

She'd always kept her defenses loose inside and tight outside. If a traitor were close by, she'd have no strength to fight back.

So that's what worried her. Ninth Royal Uncle said, "Worrying about this is pointless, Qingchen. I can't say for sure if you have traitors around you, but I can tell you this: until someone betrays you, you'll never know they're a traitor. Before that moment, their loyalty to you will be absolute—right up until the final betrayal."

In this world, you can only trust yourself.