"Serena Feng, what are you laughing at?" Wendy Wynn was stunned by Serena's smile, momentarily forgetting what she'd meant to say.
Serena grinned, "Just laughing at what a nice day it is." She glanced around—these girls had picked the perfect spot: a dead-end, deserted and quiet.
Perfect for teaching them a lesson if I feel like it.
Wendy Wynn scowled, twisting her handkerchief tight. "Serena Feng, stop dodging the issue. You're at death's door and still acting tough."
"Death? Are you girls planning to kill me?" Serena replied lazily, a hint of mockery in her voice.
Wendy's beautiful face twisted with malice. "If we wanted to kill you, it'd be as easy as squashing an ant."
"We wouldn't dirty our hands on you. Don't think curing the Grand Heir's blindness means you'll earn the Wang family's gratitude, or that you're worthy to stand beside him. Someone like you isn't fit to carry his shoes."
Wendy Wynn sneered, "Just because the Grand Heir wrote a poem for you today, you think he values you? He only pitied you. Know your place, Serena Feng—you’re not even worthy to carry his shoes."
So that's what happens when a pretty face gets involved—disaster follows.
"And what if I say no?" Serena replied coldly.
"No? Who are you to say no? Wendy, stop wasting words on her. Push this woman in and let’s see how she plans to seduce the Grand Heir covered in filth!" sneered the girl standing to Wendy Wynn’s left, her voice vicious and full of spite.
The other girls immediately chimed in, eager to join in. Serena Feng didn’t rush; she just smiled coolly, "I’d think twice if I were you, ladies. If you try to play dirty and end up getting burned, don’t blame me for not warning you."
"Trying to scare us? What, you planning to tattle?" Wendy Wynn shot back, stepping forward with a sneer.
"Tattle? Please. Serena Feng doesn’t run to anyone for help. If anyone’s going to be crying for help, it’ll be you." With a flourish, Serena whipped a cord from her sleeve, tied up her wide cuffs, and shifted her weight back—playing at fear, but really dropping into a fighter’s stance.
"As if! I haven’t tattled since I was ten. Serena Feng, you want to act high and mighty? Fine, I’ll give you what you want." Wendy Wynn lunged, her eyes flashing.
Wendy went for Serena, trying to shove her straight into the latrine.
Serena slipped aside, her smile vanishing. She stepped forward, cold and direct: "Miss Wynn, if you want to play rough, don’t blame me for fighting back."
She grabbed Wendy’s arm and, with a swift over-the-shoulder throw, slammed her to the ground with a loud thud.
"Ah! Help! She’s attacking us!"
"Serena Feng is beating people!"
The other girls shrieked, but Serena ignored them, striding forward. Seeing their panic, she knocked each one down in turn—none of them could even defend themselves.
These pampered noble girls couldn’t lift a finger in a real fight. Why would Serena be afraid of them?
She was only playing by the salon’s rules out of respect for William Wang Jinling and the Hsieh family—did they really think she was scared?
Serena snorted in disdain.
The latrine was tucked away in a remote corner, far from the main crowd—no one would hear them for a while.
Serena looked over the girls sprawled on the ground, her eyes flashing coldly: "Keep screaming and I’ll toss every last one of you into the pit. Weren’t you dying to see me covered in filth? I’ll let you have a closer look."
She grabbed Wendy Wynn and dragged her toward the latrine.
"No, please, Serena! I was wrong, I’m sorry! Don’t throw me in there!" Wendy sobbed, her face streaked with tears, eyes wide with terror.
"Scared now? You sure didn’t look scared when you were plotting to throw me in."
"Serena Feng, don’t push it! Who do you think you are? If you dare toss us in, we’ll make sure you don’t live to regret it!" snapped a girl in a peach silk dress, climbing to her feet and glaring at Serena like she wanted to cut her down.