Scapegoat and Ninth Royal Uncle’s Countermove to废 the Crown Prince

Whether it’s resolving the crisis at Liancastle or encircling Lyndaria to save Liancastle, the proposal can only come from one of the three kingdoms—he absolutely cannot reveal this idea himself. If he does, people will inevitably start to speculate.

Why would Eastlyn’s Ninth Royal Uncle care so much about the fate of Liancastle? What is his true intention?

After hearing Lance Quinn’s explanation, Vincent Su finally understood the complexity of the situation. He quickly composed himself and resolved to act cautiously, so as not to let anyone suspect a connection with Liancastle.

Prince Nathan of Southlyn’s plan to encircle Lyndaria and save Liancastle doesn’t require Ninth Royal Uncle to reach out to Eastlyn or Northlyn himself. Nathan will negotiate directly with Eastlyn and Northlyn under the Southlyn royal seal.

All Prince Nathan needs is for Ninth Royal Uncle to support his plan and help advance it as much as his abilities allow.

After two years of tempering—especially the Tyre City campaign—Prince Nathan’s vision and abilities have grown at a remarkable pace.

In Southlyn, he has already firmly suppressed Prince Damien, the native-born royal. Now, Nathan is the most popular candidate to become the next emperor of Southlyn.

Thinking of the letter Prince Nathan wrote him, even Ninth Royal Uncle couldn’t help but praise: Nathan’s progress is astonishing. Give him a few more years of tempering, and he might become a formidable adversary.

Still, Ninth Royal Uncle has no regrets about helping Nathan back then. To him, all four royal houses are enemies—if not Nathan, it would simply be someone else.

Rather than fighting an unknown enemy, Ninth Royal Uncle would rather face someone he understands—at least he knows their weaknesses and methods.

With Ninth Royal Uncle working behind the scenes, Prince Nathan’s plan unfolded smoothly. The emperors of Eastlyn and Northlyn both received his state letters, and after some persuasion from their ministers, they agreed to join the alliance without much hesitation.

When Prince Terrence of Lyndaria launched a third assault on Liancastle, Eastlyn, Northlyn, and Southlyn simultaneously issued formal war proclamations against Lyndaria, denouncing its brutality. Eastlyn sent 100,000 troops; Northlyn and Southlyn each dispatched 200,000, forming a coalition of half a million soldiers to attack Lyndaria.

Everything was going exactly as Prince Nathan had anticipated, including the number of troops. Five hundred thousand soldiers—no more, no less—left Lyndaria trapped: to fight or not to fight, both options spelled disaster.

This was an incredibly advantageous situation for the allied kingdoms.

But what Prince Nathan hadn’t foreseen was this: the moment the three kingdoms issued their war proclamations, eight of the Nine Cities—Chu City, Cloud City, Leaf City, Tyre City, Ancestral City, Peace City, Reed City, and Han City—immediately published City Lord’s Edicts, praising the kingdoms’ ‘great righteousness’ and each pledging 100,000 troops. Together, they formed an army of 800,000 to march alongside the three kingdoms against Lyndaria.

The Nine City Lords always knew that compared to the four kingdoms, they were weak. If they wanted to survive, they had to unite as one rope—never allowing the kingdoms to pick them off one by one.

No matter how much infighting or rivalry existed between the Nine Cities, when faced with a royal crusade, they would always stand as one.

This time, when Prince Terrence of Lyndaria moved troops against Liancastle, the city lords began readying for war as soon as they received word. But when news arrived that the three kingdoms were joining forces to attack Lyndaria, they couldn’t sit still any longer.

The city lords reached out to each other, and with a little help from ‘interested parties,’ they almost unanimously agreed to mobilize 100,000 troops each—determined to show the kingdoms the solidarity of the Nine Cities.

For some cities, 100,000 soldiers meant their entire army—or at least more than half.

Several cities had to muster every last resource just to meet that number. Under normal circumstances, they’d never risk so many troops—but this time was different, because...

Ahem—Buddha says, it cannot be spoken!

“Can any of you tell me what exactly is going on?” The Emperor of Lyndaria slammed the report to the floor. Normally unreadable, his face was now flushed with rage, the beads on his crown rattling violently.

“Your Majesty, please calm your anger. We are fearful.” No matter which kingdom they served, officials could only say these words before imperial wrath.

“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? A million troops are about to descend upon us! If I stay calm any longer, I’ll end up as a ruined monarch!” The Emperor’s eyes bulged, his expression murderous—the depth of his fury was unmistakable.

There’s no resisting the wrath of the masses. Right now, Lyndaria had provoked the fury of three kingdoms and eight cities—1.3 million soldiers. Even if Lyndaria threw everything it had into the fight, it couldn’t withstand such force.

“We are fearful.” Thud, thud, thud—the court officials knocked their heads against the floor, as if pain didn’t matter. The hall was filled only with the sounds of kowtowing and cries of ‘fearful.’

The Emperor grew even angrier at the noise, slamming his hand on the armrest and leaping to his feet: “Shut up, all of you! If you keep making noise, I’ll have you dragged out and executed!”

No one doubted the Emperor’s authority. Instantly, the kowtowing and cries of ‘fearful’ ceased. The entire court froze, not daring to lift their heads.

The Emperor gripped his chair with one hand, massaged his aching temples with the other, and swept his gaze over the kneeling officials. With a heavy sigh, he asked, “Do any of you have a solution?”

The only reply was the sound of increasingly cautious breathing. The Emperor wasn’t angry—he was used to this. Whenever trouble struck, his officials went mute. As emperor, he’d long grown accustomed to their silence.

The Emperor began calling names, his gaze landing on the foremost minister—Master Ian Reed. “Master Ian, what do you think?”

Master Ian Reed hailed from the Lynn family of Lyndaria.

As a trusted advisor, Master Ian could read the Emperor’s mind—if not perfectly, then at least eight out of ten times.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Master Ian knelt forward and declared, “Your Majesty, Lyndaria has acted uprightly and honorably. The three kingdoms and eight cities must have misunderstood us. If Your Majesty sends envoys to explain, the misunderstanding will be resolved.”

‘Misunderstanding’—the perfect word. The Emperor nodded in satisfaction. “Well said, Master Ian. I’ll entrust this matter to you.”

The ministers’ faces changed. Whether they understood or not, all were deeply uneasy—this was no mere ‘misunderstanding’ that could be explained away.

“I accept the order, Your Majesty, and will not disappoint you.” Master Ian took on the task without the slightest sign of pressure—because this was just the beginning. The real key was...

“Your Majesty, I have another request.” Master Ian spoke calmly, fully attuned to the Emperor’s thoughts.

“Granted.” The Emperor settled into the dragon throne, his presence commanding.

He knew what was coming. Since this was all a ‘misunderstanding,’ Lyndaria would have to produce a scapegoat—give the coalition a reason to back down.

Master Ian was fearless. Word by word, he declared: “Your Majesty, I wish to bring charges—against the Crown Prince.”

The moment those words fell, the court fell silent again. Officials buried their heads even lower, terrified of being caught in the crossfire. Prince Terrence’s faction wanted to speak up, but... the atmosphere in the hall, the Emperor’s cold gaze—no one dared utter a word.

The Emperor was pleased with his court’s submission, but feigned ignorance. “Master Ian wishes to accuse the Crown Prince? What has he done?”

“Your Majesty, I accuse the Crown Prince of being disloyal and unfilial, inhumane and unrighteous—unworthy as heir.” Master Ian’s voice was quiet, but each word landed with force.

Disloyal, unfilial, inhumane, unrighteous—unworthy as heir. Master Ian was pushing Prince Terrence forward to carry the blame...