A chill wind swept through the Imperial Garden, making the Emperor shudder. He drew a sharp breath, hurriedly picked up the teacup at his side, and wrapped his hands around it. Only when the warmth seeped into his palms did he feel a little more comfortable.
Ninth Royal Uncle (Nolan Dongling) blinked lightly, his long fingers picking up a black stone and placing it firmly on the board. "Your Majesty, you've lost!"
As the stone landed, Nolan leaned back slightly, looking utterly at ease—but inside, he was calculating. The Crown Prince should have already pinned down Prince Adrian and the others by now.
He didn’t need the Crown Prince to do much—just to hold the line at Feng Manor and keep everyone contained. As for the Emperor? Nolan only hoped he wouldn’t catch cold; otherwise, that would truly be a crime.
The Emperor relaxed his stiff posture a little and smiled. "It’s been a while, and Ninth Brother’s chess skills have improved again."
With the game nearing its end, the outcome was clear. The Emperor wasn’t surprised that Nolan would win—but still…
He glanced at the board, then turned his face away.
In all of Eastlyn, only Nolan dared to beat him at chess—only Nolan would dare win by so many stones.
"I have too much free time, so I spend my days studying chess. If I didn’t improve, wouldn’t that be laughable?" Nolan replied with a pointed look. The Emperor just smiled without answering, stood up, dusted off imaginary dirt from his robes, and said to Nolan, "It’s getting late. Stay and have dinner with me."
"As you command, Your Majesty." Nolan rose as well, but instead of looking at the Emperor, he turned his gaze sideways, staring at the palace walls.
The Emperor spent the entire day with Ninth Royal Uncle, thinking he was containing Nolan—yet he ended up trapping himself too. Even now, the Emperor had no idea that the Crown Prince was flexing his power at Feng Manor, or that Adrian Dongling and the other princes had already been bound and locked away.
The Crown Prince might be arrogant, but he wasn’t reckless. He had Adrian Dongling and the other two princes tied up and thrown into a separate courtyard, posting his own men to guard them—so when the Emperor’s wrath came, it wouldn’t fall on the ordinary people of Feng Manor.
The Crown Prince was tough—he didn’t even spare Adrian Dongling, so why would he care about saving face for William Walker Jinling’s seventeenth uncle? He ordered the entire Walker clan rounded up and held outside the manor. With everything settled, he strolled off to find Prince Titus of Lyndaria.
After exchanging pleasantries, the Crown Prince and Prince Titus found a relatively clean spot, brewed tea, and played chess, savoring this rare moment of leisure. Prince Titus watched the Crown Prince radiate confidence, utterly unconcerned about the consequences. Secretly, he admired Nolan Dongling’s strategy—only Adrian Dongling could provoke the Crown Prince enough to make him cast aside all hesitation and gamble everything.
Once the crisis had passed, the servants of Feng Manor emerged from their hiding places. Under the steward’s direction, they steadied themselves and quietly began cleaning up the estate.
With New Year’s Eve coming tomorrow, they had to finish the cleanup today—otherwise, there’d be no way to celebrate. Only Jada Tang, who was seriously injured, was excused; everyone else got to work, and half of Dominic Zhai’s guards pitched in to help move things.
Anything breakable in Feng Manor had been smashed by the Bloodcloak Guard. Now, the servants’ job was to haul out the debris and go buy new things to replace what was lost.
Clearing away the mess was easy, but restocking an entire household in one day was nearly impossible. Feng Manor hadn’t had any income since it fell, and the few banknotes they owned had been shredded by the Bloodcloak Guard.
Even the most capable housekeeper can’t cook without rice—without silver, how could they do anything? Just when the steward was at his wit’s end, Vincent Su sent word: don’t worry about money. He would have everything Feng Manor needed delivered, and settle the accounts with Serena later.
Feng Manor wasn’t truly penniless—their silver just hadn’t arrived yet. Serena’s prenatal formula, distributed by the Young family, was selling so well that every day’s batch was snatched up almost instantly, creating a frenzy.
In a month, the Young family would settle accounts with Feng Manor. By then, Serena would have enough silver to rebuild the estate from scratch. The old steward knew perfectly well how good Serena was at making money, so he didn’t bother with false modesty when Vincent Su made his offer.
Many hands make light work. Before nightfall, the servants had cleared away all the debris, though the broken doors, windows, and walls would take much longer to repair.
The empty halls of Feng Manor felt bleak and desolate. The old steward wandered through, sighing, looking as if he’d aged decades. But when the Su-clan wagons arrived with supplies, he pulled himself together, organized the staff to set everything in place, and ordered the kitchen to start dinner early.
Feng Manor needed to be put in order, but the Crown Prince and his guests were still here—they couldn’t be left hungry.
Inside the operating room, Serena was tying the last surgical knot. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and red lines streaked her exhausted gaze. She pressed her dry, cracked lips together, forced down her worries, and began cleaning up the room.
She couldn’t make out the details of the chaos outside, but she knew Adrian Dongling had brought the Bloodcloak Guard. With those men around, the people of Feng Manor would suffer.
Serena was the only real master left in Feng Manor. Of course she worried, but she couldn’t abandon her surgery to go confront Adrian Dongling.
Caleb Walker’s condition was far too grave to interrupt treatment. The only thing Serena could do was finish the operation quickly and thoroughly—only by saving him could she justify the sacrifices of everyone in the manor.
After cleaning the room and re-hanging anti-inflammatory and fever-reducing IVs for Caleb Walker, Serena called in the two dark-guard maids stationed outside. "Guard the Seventh Young Master closely. Watch over his medicines. No one is allowed near him—not even Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan."
"Miss…" The dark-guard maids hesitated, addressing Serena with uncertainty.
Serena shot the two maids a fierce glare. "What’s this? You’re saying I can’t give you orders?"
"No, not at all, Miss. Please forgive us—it’s just that His Highness ordered us to protect you personally." The maids, already chastened, didn’t dare leave Serena’s side.
"You’d better remember who your master is. Right now, I’m the one in charge. I won’t tolerate subordinates who refuse my orders." Serena’s eyes were icy, her presence overwhelming—she left no room for defiance.
The two maids exchanged a look, gritted their teeth, and dropped to their knees with a thud, bowing their heads. "We were wrong, Miss. We’ll obey."
Only then did Serena withdraw her gaze, looking down at them. "Remember who you are, and remember your duty."
"We understand." The maids didn’t dare argue and quietly stayed in the operating room to care for Caleb Walker.
Outside the operating room, guards kept watch. When Serena came out, one guard hurried over. "Miss."
Serena paused and asked, "What happened?" She signaled the guard to stay and protect Caleb Walker, then strode toward the main hall.
The guard followed behind, giving a succinct account: the Walker clan’s arrival, Adrian Dongling bringing the Bloodcloak Guard, and the Crown Prince’s massacre of the Guard.
Serena listened, then nodded. "I understand. Take me to the Crown Prince." She drew a deep breath, her face unreadable.
Led by the guard, Serena walked toward Prince Titus’s courtyard. Everywhere she looked, Feng Manor lay in ruins—carefully designed gardens and rockeries destroyed, rare transplanted trees and flowers crushed into the mud.
In an instant, Feng Manor was back to how it had been a year ago—everywhere, the air was thick with decay and decline...