The sound the child made was like a wounded little animal seeking comfort from its mother. The Snow Wolf, curious, echoed softly: "Awoo..."
Seeing that Serena didn’t scold it, the Snow Wolf grew bolder, raised itself up, and faced off with the child. After a moment, the Snow Wolf tilted its head, its wolf eyes shining with confusion...
Why isn’t he smiling?
Why isn’t he speaking?
He looks just as cute as Little Feng Jin—so why won’t he pay attention to me?
The Snow Wolf was utterly puzzled. While Serena wasn’t looking, it quietly stretched out a paw and gently touched the child’s face: soft, just like Little Feng Jin—love it!
Serena kept a close eye on the Snow Wolf and the child. Seeing the child wasn’t afraid of the Snow Wolf’s approach or touch, she was overjoyed and encouraged the Snow Wolf to interact more with him.
If the Snow Wolf could help the child come out of his shell, that would be the best outcome.
Encouraged, the Snow Wolf was delighted. But when the child still didn’t respond, the Snow Wolf reached out to touch him again. Yet the child continued to ignore it, only staring at the Snow Wolf with a pair of empty eyes...
The Snow Wolf, now up close, could clearly see its own reflection in the child’s dark pupils—snow-white, clean, and majestic.
The child's eyes were crystal clear, without a trace of impurity. The Snow Wolf grew more and more fond of him, gently licked the boy's hand with its tongue—and was instantly startled: the little hand had no strength at all, just like when Little Feng Jin was sick.
The Snow Wolf looked worried, carefully extending its paw to gently lift the child's hand. Seeing those limp little hands droop on either side, the Snow Wolf let out a mournful whimper, as if grieving for the boy's pain.
The Snow Wolf pressed its big head lightly against the child, then, just as it would lick its own cub's wounds, began to gently lick the boy's hand, clumsily trying to comfort him.
The child showed no anxiety, nor any fear—he just stared blankly at the Snow Wolf, his hollow eyes glimmering with tears.
Witnessing this, Serena and Aaron Zuo both felt their eyes redden.
Compared to Little Feng Jin, this child had suffered far more—Feng Jin was the fortunate one.
......
Those working in the shadows seemed to know exactly where Serena's bottom line lay. After she sent someone to handle things, the Eighteen Riders received VIP treatment in the Brocade Guard's prison.
Inside, not only were they spared torture, nine of them even had two clean cells to themselves, and their meals included both meat and vegetables.
"Westlyn must be rich—who ever heard of prisoners getting such good treatment?" At noon, they were even served braised chicken. The Eighteen Riders thought they were seeing things; after all, the silver paid in war reparations had left Westlyn struggling with poverty for the past twenty years.
"You're a funny one. Do you think everyone gets treated like you? If all prisoners ate this well, the cells would be packed." The jailer delivering food to the Eighteen Riders had a friendly temperament and generously explained, "Don't worry about living here. Your mistress has greased every level—so long as no order comes down from above, you won't suffer."
There was a reason for the jailer's good mood. Westlyn was poor; the treasury couldn't cough up enough silver, so officials' salaries were often delayed. Those serving in the imperial capital fared a little better, getting at least half their pay, but even that wasn't enough to support a family.
And Serena? She was generous—her first payment was equal to five years of the jailer's wages, and she made sure to tip everyone, high and low. With that kind of money flying around, how could the Eighteen Riders get anything but good treatment?
Anywhere you go, silver opens doors. The Eighteen Riders felt both relieved and ashamed.
"It's our fault for being useless and making Miss spend so much." The Eighteen Riders clutched their rice bowls, tears welling in their eyes.
The jailer spoke lightly, but the Eighteen Riders were all system veterans—they knew full well that even with money, you still needed the right connections.
Back in Eastlyn, they were dragons—could go anywhere they pleased. But here in Westlyn, finding the right people and smoothing out relationships in a single day was no easy feat.
"Miss is a true master." The Eighteen Riders had long pledged themselves to Serena, but this incident moved them even more deeply.
A master who would never abandon them, who planned ahead for their sake, who refused to give up on them even in crisis—she was worth their devotion.
In their hearts, the Eighteen Riders silently swore: from now on, Miss would be their only master. The Young Marshal was their former lord—going forward, they'd have nothing more to do with him.
Serena didn't realize that her actions not only moved the Eighteen Riders—even her other agents now felt proud and bold: with a master like this, they never had to fear being thrown away as expendable pawns.
With that, everyone worked even harder—especially Spring and Mira. Even in the Princess Royal's estate, Spring and Mira guarded Evan's courtyard so tightly that not a whisper leaked out.
Princess Royal Helena couldn't get a scrap of news from here. Three days passed, and she still didn't know they had already discovered Evan's gu poisoning. But she was well aware of the high-born child Serena had brought back.
"No chance at all? The boy's right here in the Princess Royal Residence, and you still can't find an opening? What use are you to me?" The Prince Duan heir was under her own roof, yet her agents couldn't touch him—Princess Royal Helena was livid.
"Please forgive me, Your Highness—not for lack of skill, but truly, there's no chance. The young heir clings to Serena everywhere she goes. Even when Serena steps away, the Snow Wolf stands guard. I really dare not risk it." A man knelt before the Princess Royal at noon, trembling as he explained.
"No chance? I've stripped away all of Serena's guards—she's got no one left to protect her, and you still say there's no opening? If you can't handle even this, why should I keep you?" The Princess Royal's words dripped with murderous intent.
The man was so terrified he kowtowed until his head nearly touched the floor. "Spare me, Your Highness! Please! Even without guards, Aaron Zuo is always in the courtyard—I really can't risk it."
"Useless. Get out." Just hearing Aaron Zuo's name gave the Princess Royal a headache.
Both sons she'd had in this lifetime were nothing but trouble. Serena had been here three days, and she still hadn't managed to uncover a single secret—Princess Royal Helena grew more and more irritable. "Someone, go summon the Ghost Doctor."
The Ghost Doctor hailed from the Palace of a Hundred Ghosts, his medical skill nearly supernatural—no less than the Valley Master of Mystic Healer Valley, and in some ways even stronger.
Even Southlyn's Prince Damien owed his recovery to the Ghost Doctor—if not for him, Damien would still be paralyzed.
Now, with the Ghost Doctor summoned, the medical conflict in Lyndaria was about to escalate again.