Allergy and a Vile Woman’s Endless Tricks

A man and a woman walked toward the crowd. As the woman approached, an overwhelming floral scent filled the air. The rough martial artists were completely unaccustomed to such a smell—one after another, they choked and coughed, "What is that smell? It's so awful."

"Achoo! Achoo!" For a moment, sneezing broke out everywhere. Some people, not caring about decorum, even sent snot flying northward.

Fortunately, Ninth Royal Uncle's seat was well-placed, and the people around him were at least of higher status, so there was no scene of endless sneezing and snot flying everywhere.

Even normal people found their noses itching from the scent, let alone Ninth Royal Uncle. As a man with a cleanliness obsession and a pollen allergy, it was obvious what kind of state he’d be in right now.

Luckily, Serena was well-prepared. The moment the floral scent hit, she took out a pill and pressed it to Ninth Royal Uncle’s lips. "Open your mouth," she ordered.

For someone as guarded as Ninth Royal Uncle, the only time he’d accept something without question was when Serena fed it to him.

The bitter pill slid down his throat, but Ninth Royal Uncle didn’t even frown. He just stared coldly at the pair in front of him.

The woman in the brocade dress covered in flowers was the Princess Royal of Lyndaria. Beside her stood a master in a slate-blue robe, wearing a black mask that covered everything above his nose, hiding his face.

With just one glance, Serena knew the man in blue was Prince Damien of Southlyn. No matter how his clothes or bearing changed, those cold eyes—and the feeling he gave her—would never change.

"To show up so openly—Prince Damien really does have guts." Serena had to admit, she admired him. This man was truly terrifying, unbreakable, with a life tougher than a cockroach.

Noticing that the Princess Royal of Lyndaria was walking oddly, Serena remembered Ling Mo’s report and smiled. "Making deals with tigers—looks like the Princess Royal has already paid the price."

"What are you thinking about? Forget all that nonsense right now." As his allergy symptoms eased, Ninth Royal Uncle finally relaxed—only to hear this and wish he could beat Ling Mo up.

He said that for Serena’s benefit, too.

"Did Ninth Royal Uncle discover something that made him so happy? Why not share it with us and let everyone enjoy?" As Nolan and Serena spoke, the Princess Royal stepped forward, interrupting their private conversation.

The closer she got, the stronger the scent became. Red bumps had already appeared on Ninth Royal Uncle’s arm, and his nose was clearly uncomfortable—even Serena, as a woman, was starting to find it unbearable.

"Princess Royal, speaking as a doctor, I can tell you your nose has a problem. You need a physician immediately. If there’s nothing else, please stand farther away. We’re normal people—we can’t handle your perfume." Serena was blunt, not holding back. Daring to make Nolan suffer, the Princess Royal was getting bolder by the day.

"Hmm?" The Princess Royal tilted her head at Serena, her gaze full of seductive charm but feigning innocence. "Miss Serena, what are you saying? I don’t understand."

It didn’t matter what was said—the point was to stay near Ninth Royal Uncle as long as possible, using the floral scent to overwhelm him, and hopefully trigger a major allergic reaction right on the spot.

Serena put on a serious face and said, "I forgot the Princess Royal and I aren’t from the same generation. She’s older, so naturally there’s a gap between us. For example, dousing yourself in every perfume imaginable—that’s just not something young women would do."

The older a woman gets, the less she can stand being called old. The Princess Royal’s face twisted with anger, but before she could speak, Serena cut her off: "Don’t move, Princess Royal. If you do, the wrinkles at the corners of your eyes become even more obvious."

"You—you…" The Princess Royal was about to explode. In all these years, no one had ever dared speak to her like that.

Ahem… Prince Damien saw the Princess Royal losing control and quickly coughed to remind her.

The Princess Royal clearly feared Prince Damien. Though she was shaking with rage, she forced herself to hold back, managing a stiff smile. "I won’t stoop to the level of a little girl like you."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Serena’s reply was perfectly polite, but her next line made the Princess Royal furious again: "It’s true that older women have a special poise. That kind of grace, polished by so many years and experiences, is something we younger ones just can’t imitate."

On the surface, it sounded like a compliment, but underneath, it was still calling the Princess Royal old. A few people nearby couldn’t help but laugh, and it took all the Princess Royal’s effort not to lose her composure.

Unfortunately, Serena wasn’t the type to let things go. Since the Princess Royal insisted on standing before Ninth Royal Uncle and making him suffer, Serena had no intention of letting her off easy.

"Your Highness, those polished by time have a refinement and grace we lack. So please, show us your taste and manners: either take off that strange-smelling robe, or move farther away.

This vulgar scent really doesn’t suit your noble birth, nor does it match the Lyndarian royal family’s reputation. Today, you’ve made yourself seem tacky and made people question the royal family’s upbringing and taste."

Serena looked perfectly sincere, as if she was only thinking of the Princess Royal’s reputation. But her underlying arrogance made it clear to everyone that she despised Helena as a tasteless, vulgar woman.

And plenty of people agreed with Serena: "That robe really does smell weird—it's just awful."

"Earlier, I almost threw up from the smell. I thought maybe I was just a rough guy who didn’t understand refined taste, but turns out the scent really was off."

"My nose still itches. Princess Royal, your taste really isn’t that great."

No one had criticized the Princess Royal’s perfume before—not because they agreed with her, but because everyone assumed they just didn’t understand aristocratic taste. Even if they disliked it, they wouldn’t dare say so, and had to pretend to enjoy it for fear of looking foolish.

Now that Serena had called out the Princess Royal’s lack of taste, they realized they weren’t wrong. One after another, people started voicing their real opinions.

These rough martial artists might have high status in the jianghu, but you couldn’t expect them to say anything nice. Their comments got nastier and nastier, and even with her thick skin, the Princess Royal couldn’t take it anymore.

Prince Damien saw Nolan’s face growing more uncomfortable and wanted to urge the Princess Royal to hold out a bit longer. But as a proud noblewoman, Helena couldn’t stand the ridicule. With everyone piling on, she forced a smile and claimed she’d worn the robe as a harmless prank on Ninth Royal Uncle.

"Maybe you don’t know, but outside, people say Ninth Royal Uncle hates women and is allergic to floral scents. Yesterday, I saw his aversion to women myself, so today I wanted to test whether he’s really affected by perfume. And…" The Princess Royal pouted—an old woman acting cute, and somehow it didn’t look out of place, which only annoyed Serena more.

"And…" The Princess Royal kept up the act, shrugged, and played the fool: "Ninth Royal Uncle isn’t affected by floral scents at all. You can’t trust every rumor you hear."

After saying that, the Princess Royal stripped off her overpoweringly scented robe, revealing a gold coat underneath.

She’d clearly come prepared.

"So that’s how it is." Most people accepted the Princess Royal’s explanation, but she couldn’t fool those truly in the know. Several sharp-eyed observers glanced at Nolan, then at Helena, and exchanged knowing smiles.

But some things are better left unsaid. Once they’re off Skyvault Mountain, they’ll have plenty of time…