Chapter 150: [The Rustic Bumpkin Plays Dumb]

The backlash of that crimson murderous intent was exceptionally strong. Dren collapsed backward onto the ground, sprawled out, feeling as though every ounce of strength inside his body had been completely drained. Wave after wave of exhaustion washed over his consciousness. This state of utter depletion, both physically and mentally, made him wish he could simply fall over and sleep soundly for three days and three nights.

Watching the young military officer fall to the ground, Daphne was at a loss for a moment. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, she reached out and gently patted Dren’s face with her delicate palm, though she dared not use any force. At that moment, her heart pounded like a frightened deer, filled with panic and terror. Yet, looking at the blood staining the corners of Dren’s mouth, a profound sense of gratitude welled up in her heart.

She instinctively glanced around. The area was completely empty; was there even a shadow of a person to be seen? Her servant had gone off to search for horses, but goodness knew where he had wandered off to. Thinking of this, tears welled in the corners of Daphne’s eyes, and she could not help raising her voice to call out a few times. Yet, the woods only responded with the rustling of leaves—not a single person answered.

Seeing that Dren’s movements were growing weaker and weaker, his breathing heavy and ragged, Daphne stared at the ruined armor on his chest. The viciousness of that arrow would have chilled the heart of any frail woman unskilled in martial arts. Recalling just moments ago when she was still on horseback, watching that streak of black light shoot toward her, her heart had leapt into her throat. Her entire body had frozen, and that suffocating wave of oppression had left her not only unable to struggle or dodge, but utterly incapable of even screaming out... And yet, this young officer who had just acted presumptuously toward her had thrown himself in front of her, using his own flesh and blood to block the incoming arrow with his bare chest!

At that moment, he had been seated before her in the saddle, his broad, solid back pressed flush against her embrace, hard as rock yet offering an overwhelming sense of steadfast security.

Daphne’s mind was in utter turmoil. Looking at the semiconscious Dren, she bit down hard on her lower lip, a single thought echoing in her mind: *He saved me! He saved me! I must repay him!*

With that resolve, Daphne scrambled to her feet. Ignoring the sharp, piercing pain in her ankle, she struggled and limped toward the lakeshore. With every single step she took, the agonizing pain in her ankle brought cold sweat streaming down her forehead and caused tears to spill from her eyes. Reaching the riverbank, she cupped a handful of clean water in her hands, only to watch helplessly as it all leaked through her fingers.

Daphne bit her lip once more. A flash of bashfulness crossed her features, but steeling her heart an instant later, she bent down and, with a sharp *rip*, tore a strip of fabric from the hem of her skirt. She soaked the cloth thoroughly in the lake water, then hurried back to kneel once more by Dren’s side. Wringing out the fabric with both hands, she evenly sprinkled the cool water over Dren’s face.

Amidst his semi-consciousness, Dren was suddenly jolted awake by the shock of the cold water. He forced his eyes open to behold the woman’s face before him—her features smeared with a comical mixture of blood, tears, and sweat. Dren’s mouth twitched into a wry grin. The cold water cleared his head just enough for him to struggle upward. Seeing this, Daphne threw aside all notions of propriety between men and women, lunging forward to support Dren by the shoulders. She hauled him upward in a posture that was almost a half-embrace, struggling desperately to lift him. Unfortunately, her strength was simply too meager, and Dren’s country-bumpkin physique was deceptively heavy. After trying to hoist him twice not only did she fail to lift him, but with a startled cry of "Oof!", her hands slipped, and she tumbled heavily right into Dren’s arms, her forehead colliding squarely with his chin. A dull thud echoed in the air, and a patch of her forehead instantly turned bright red.

"Idiot!" Though utterly lacking in strength, Dren’s mind had snapped back to full awareness under the stimulus of the cold water. He glared and snapped angrily, "You crazy woman, what are you moving me for?! You're just wasting time! Hurry up and find someone! I can't move right now—if another assassin shows up, I'll really end up dying as your burial companion!"

A blush crept over Daphne’s face, panic flickering in her eyes as she spoke with a cry in her voice: "I... I already shouted, but there's nobody here... and I don't know where my servant went..."

Dren let out a cold grunt. In that fleeting second, countless thoughts raced through his mind: The assassin from earlier was clearly targeting this woman; her identity must be extraordinary! Moreover... how awfully convenient that the moment the assassin struck, her servant had wandered off. Was it truly just a coincidence? Hmph...

"Don't panic!" Having survived numerous brushes with life and death, Dren managed to steady his nerves in such a crisis. He lowered his voice, saying, "This is the Imperial Garden; those assassins couldn't possibly infiltrate a place like this in large numbers. There should only be a single assassin... let's hope so! Don't panic. Go look at my horse; there's a horn hanging from the saddle. Take it down and blow it. The patrolling Imperial Guards are bound to be nearby in the garden. Once they hear the horn, they'll come running!"

Following his instructions, Daphne scrambled up, limping hastily over to the mount. Sure enough, she spotted a cow-horn bugle hanging from the back of the saddle. Snatching it up, she hurried back to Dren's side.

"What are you staring at me for? Blow it!" Dren was exasperated. He glared and barked, "What are you standing there stunned for?!"

Throughout her entire life, from childhood until now, when had anyone ever spoken to her in such a harsh tone? Even her husband, the Crown Prince Garcia—though their relationship was notoriously peculiar—had always strictly observed court etiquette toward her, never once uttering a harsh word. Yet now, being ordered around left and right by this young military officer, she felt not a shred of resentment. She only felt that he had saved her life, and trapped as they were in mortal peril, she was truly far too useless; his attitude was hardly unreasonable.

Placing the horn to her lips, she hesitated for a moment. She bit down on the mouthpiece with her soft, ruddy lips, puffed out her cheeks, and blew with all her might. However, instead of the expected, resonant blast of a horn, a pathetic *pfft* sound of leaking air escaped. If one listened closely, the noise bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain unrefined bodily sound produced by ordinary people...

Daphne froze. Stunned for a moment, she puffed out her cheeks and tried blowing once more. Yet, despite blowing until her heart raced and her vision blurred, the horn produced nothing more than a few sputtering *pfft* sounds of leaking air.

Beside her, Dren’s eyes widened to the size of marbles as he watched this woman pucker her little mouth and puff out her cheeks while blowing desperately into the horn. The country boy stared dumbly for a moment before he finally lost it. Though devoid of physical strength, he began convulsing all over the ground. If he had been capable of movement, he would have loved to clutch his sides and roar with laughter. Even so, the muscles on his face twisted into a knot, and he laughed so hard he nearly choked to death.

Daphne’s face flushed beet red, filled with utter shame and humiliation. She prided herself on having received a strict upbringing since childhood; court etiquette, floral arrangements, music, art—she was proficient in all of them. But... even though she had studied musical theory, every instrument she knew was elegant, like the harp or the organ. How on earth was she supposed to know how to blow a military bugle?

Seeing that Dren was laughing so hard he looked ready to suffer a cramp, her face burned so fiercely she felt as though blood might drip from it. Lowering her head, she shoved the horn back into Dren’s hands. "I... I..."

"I'll blow it," Dren groaned, wincing. He had sustained internal injuries, and bursting into laughter had ignited a dull, tearing pain in his chest. Seeing that Dren’s hands lacked the strength to hold it, Daphne brought the bugle up to his mouth, letting the fellow clamp his teeth onto it... Right at that instant, a strange glint flashed in Daphne’s eyes, and her hands gave an involuntary tremor.

She had been blowing on this very mouthpiece for quite some time, and a fair amount of her saliva was bound to be lingering on it. And now, this fellow was taking it directly into his mouth... It somehow felt faintly inappropriate.

Dren, however, didn't think twice about it. He wrapped his lips around the bugle's mouthpiece, took a deep breath, and blew out with all his might.

*"WOOOOOO—!!!!"*

The blast of the bugle instantly resounded, startling several birds into flight from the edge of the woods as the sound carried far into the distance.

With the commotion finally made, both of them felt a wave of relief wash over their hearts. Dren tilted his head back, collapsing onto the ground to catch his breath. Daphne gazed at Dren, hesitating for a moment before speaking in a low, soft voice, "Um... thank you for just now. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead."

Dren let out a "hmph" and stood on no ceremony, drawling lazily, "Consider it a coincidence. Since I happened to run into it, I couldn't very well stand by and watch you die."

Daphne looked at Dren, thinking that his blunt and unrefined manner of speaking was truly a rarity in all her life. True, he was an officer among the Imperial Guards—yet she had seen plenty of Imperial Guard officers herself. Every single one of them had undergone rigorous training, displaying restrained and courteous manners; how could any of them look as utterly shameless and lazy as this fellow? Yet strangely enough, at this very moment, Daphne found this boorish, carefree fellow far more pleasing to the eye than the stiff, solemn Imperial Guard officers she usually encountered.

"Um... may I please ask your name?" Daphne thought for a moment and added, "You saved my life, so I must repay the debt. Are you an officer in the Imperial Guards? Under which general do you serve?"

Dren chuckled lazily, waving a hand. "I'm no Imperial Guard."

Not an Imperial Guard?

Could he be a nobleman invited to today's grand hunt? But judging by his appearance—when they first met, he had been clad in neat military armor—he looked nothing like the participating nobles who were dressed as ostentatiously as peacocks displaying their tails. Besides... imperial nobility placed the utmost emphasis on poise and elegance, yet this fellow was crude and unpolished. From head to toe, where on earth did he resemble a gentleman?

Sensing the woman's strange gaze, the country boy felt a slight prick of irritation. "Hey, you woman, what's with that look in your eyes? Do I not look like an invited noble? Let me tell you, I am a bona fide baron! In the future, I'm going to be elevated to a count, and eventually a duke, too!"

Hearing this, Daphne could not help letting out a soft giggle. Even with dirt smudging her face, her smile could not conceal her radiant beauty. Joy flickered in her eyes like blooming spring blossoms, and even a dense fellow like Dren was left momentarily dazed. *This woman... is she supposed to be pretty or ugly? If she's ugly, why did that smile just now make her look so breathtakingly gorgeous to me?*

Throughout her life, Daphne had no idea how many times men had looked at her with such dazed expressions. Seeing the vacant look in Dren’s eyes, she didn't mind in the least. Suppressing a smile, she teased, "Very well, future Duke-sir, might you tell me your name now?"

She found it rather amusing inside: *Elevated to a duke?* Her own father was an imperial duke, so she naturally knew what kind of peerless, world-shaking military exploits were required to earn the title of duke! Since the founding of the empire a thousand years ago, how many dukes had ever been ennobled in total? This young man was utterly ignorant of the immensity of heaven and earth, spouting grand boasts, completely unaware that the person standing right before him was a genuine duke’s daughter!

"Me? My name is Dren, Baron Dren Thunder. Yep, you can call me that," Dren sighed, his eyes rolling around. "And you? My lady, I suppose you could say I saved your life. You can tell me your name now, right?"

"I..." Daphne hesitated slightly. The lingering doubts in her heart vanished in an instant. She looked down at the young officer and said softly, "Do you really not recognize me?"

Dren let out a hearty laugh. "Are you someone famous, then?"

Daphne was at a loss for words. Gazing at this oblivious fellow, she had no idea how to explain it to him tactfully.

The guy claimed to be a noble, but Daphne had never in her life met such an ignorant "aristocrat"—he didn't know a single shred of basic noble etiquette. Moreover, in the capital of Yanjing, even if some nobles had never laid eyes on her in person, who wouldn't know the strict rules governing the annual imperial garden hunt?

Aside from the imperial family, participants were strictly forbidden from bringing female companions along! Based on that rule alone, even if he didn't recognize her personally, the moment he saw her, her identity should have been glaringly obvious. Yet this fellow genuinely seemed to have no clue at all. Anyone qualified to receive an invitation to the hunt must hold a high and mighty position; how could he be so utterly clueless?

Even if he was ignorant of the rules, any ordinary young noble scion in Yanjing would immediately recognize her attire upon seeing the golden emblem pinned to her velvet cloak—that was the hallmark symbol of an imperial family member! And yet, this fellow didn't recognize that either?

Sighing softly, Daphne murmured, "Very well, I'll tell you. I am—"

Right as she reached that point, she abruptly clamped her mouth shut, a strange expression crossing her features.

"You are what?" Dren frowned. "Hey, you can't do that. Stop stammering—just who on earth are you?"

At that moment, doubt began to creep into Daphne’s heart. Everyone she had ever met in her life treated her with rigid adherence to etiquette. She had encountered countless young prodigies and nobles who invariably put on an affected, gentle, and courteous demeanor in her presence, making every move they made dull and tedious. Yet this fellow, despite his crude language, possessed a natural, unpretentious, and rather adorable simplicity... *(Well, Dren has just earned himself the evaluation of "adorable simplicity"... Dororo and the others continue headbutting walls)*... If she were to reveal her true identity, would he instantly change his tune, transforming into those hypocritical facades she despised so much just like every other nobleman she had ever met?

"My name is Daphne," she said, casting a sideways glance at Dren. Seeing not a flicker of recognition on his face, she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"My... my father is a nobleman," Daphne continued, adopting a deliberately casual tone. "Even if I told you, you probably wouldn't know him."

"Hm... well, that's true," Dren nodded carelessly. "Before yesterday, I didn't know a single noble in Yanjing. Now, though I've seen a bunch of them, after hearing so many names yesterday, I only remember two or three. Um... one of them was called something like Moriac, seems he's some kind of count..."

"Ah, exactly, Count Moriac. The Imperial Ministry of Military Logistics and Supply Minister, Count Moriac. He's a relative by marriage to His Majesty," Daphne blurted out instinctively upon hearing the name.

Dren’s eyes lit up. "Spot on, spot on! That's the guy. Hmph, that fat pig—Minister of Logistics... sounds like he's lined his pockets quite a bit."

He shot a sideways glance at Daphne. "You sure know a lot about these people's identities. Unlike me, who understands nothing."

Daphne had no wish to dwell on that topic any longer. She looked at Dren and asked, "And you? Baron Dren Thunder... did you just recently arrive in Yanjing?"

Pausing for a moment, Daphne pondered carefully before muttering to herself, "Dren Thunder... that name sounds somewhat familiar... Ah! It's you!!"

She suddenly widened her bright, charming eyes, staring at Dren in astonishment.

Dren let out a hearty laugh, puffing out his chest with a hint of smugness. "Looks like you know my name after all! Ha! Turns out I'm pretty famous now. Well, looking at your expression, you clearly know who I am. You've probably heard the rumors about me slaying the Odin prince and wounding Hasting, haven't you?"

Yet, Daphne’s expression turned rather peculiar.

She knew of Dren not because of any military exploits trumpeted in official dispatches, but rather because... she remembered that just a few days ago, she had witnessed her husband, Crown Prince Garcia, fly into a sudden, blinding rage after receiving a confidential report in his study. That day, Garcia had acted like a madman, smashing everything in the study to smithereens and gnashing his teeth as he spat out certain words—words that seemed to include the name "Dren Thunder."

Later, Daphne had quietly made some discreet inquiries and discovered that during this war, her husband had dispatched that fellow Bonfreed to the front lines, only for Bonfreed to end up dead under mysterious circumstances. According to the rumors, the cause of his death was somehow tied to this very Dren Thunder.

Though Daphne possessed an illustrious lineage, her outward glory contrasted sharply with a private desolation known to no one else. In name, she was the Crown Princess, but her husband, Crown Prince Garcia, was notorious throughout Yanjing’s noble circles—even the deaf had heard whispers that he favored male company and had zero interest in women! She had caught wind of these rumors before marrying him, but as a woman of her background, how could she possibly control her own marriage? The political considerations dictated the marriage alliance between the Minas family and the imperial house. Moreover, among the nobility, pederasty was hardly uncommon; many wealthy and powerful families in Yanjing kept handsome boy-toys in their households, so it wasn't particularly shocking.

Only after the wedding did Daphne truly understand that this husband of hers was a thoroughbred "hare"! He only cared for male companionship and possessed not an ounce of interest in women. In fact, he wouldn't even allow any female servant to touch him with a different surname in his daily life! Later on, she gradually learned that ever since he was ten years old, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince had driven away all his female attendants, replacing them entirely with young, handsome boys to serve as his pages.

Having been married to the Crown Prince for several years, let alone sharing true intimacy as husband and wife, the number of times they had even dined at the same table could be counted on one hand. In the beginning, she had harbored a few illusions—after all, a young girl newly wed always hoped to win her husband's affection. Though Garcia had his peculiarities, his personal bearing and deportment were top-notch. Daphne had initially held romantic notions, hoping her beauty might touch the Crown Prince's heart. But after several attempts, the Crown Prince refused to let her touch a single finger of his! Forget sharing a pillow; they hadn't even held hands more than a few times!

Girls across the world, regardless of high or low birth and in the prime of their youth, always harbored romantic fantasies about love, and Daphne was naturally no exception. Long before coming of age, she had often dreamed that her future beloved would be a peerless, extraordinary hero who bestrode the world. Instead, she had ended up married to a thoroughbred rabbit! Her stint as Crown Princess over the past few years had been completely devoid of substance. Yet, given her status, no matter how many grievances or tears she swallowed, she could only hide under the covers late at night when no one else was around to weep in secret, never daring to utter a single word of it to the outside world.

Consequently, Daphne was intimately familiar with that name, "Bonfreed"! Whenever she had heard that name in the past, it was invariably linked to her husband! The two of them were inseparable, and Bonfreed had enjoyed unrestricted access to the Crown Prince’s palace—often projecting the aura of a "lady of the house" within the residence!

Naturally, as the legitimate Crown Princess, she had suffered immense humiliation. She had even returned home a few times to weep and pour out her heart to her aging father, Duke Minas. But while the old Duke dearly loved his daughter, he had firmly rejected any notions of calling off the marriage.

Though she understood her father's hidden difficulties, she was, after all, a young girl incapable of grasping the grand chessboard of affairs of state. Whenever she thought of it, a profound sorrow would consume her: must the affairs of men always demand the sacrifice of a frail young woman's lifelong happiness?

While she harbored a deep-seated hatred for Crown Prince Garcia, she dared not show even a shred of resentment outwardly. However, toward Bonfreed—who had always acted so arrogant and overbearing in her presence—she had cultivated an infinite, bottomless disgust.

Looking at Dren at that moment, Daphne’s eyes softened considerably. She sighed softly, "So it was you... Ah, I should have guessed it earlier. Um... I heard that Bonfreed died because of you, didn't he?"

Dren immediately glared and protested, "Hey, Lady Daphne, you can't just go spouting nonsense like that! Bonfreed was assassinated when Hasting single-handedly broke into the Wildfire Garrison Command, and hundreds of people witnessed it with their own eyes! It had nothing to do with me! Don't you go pinning that debt on my head!" Lowering his voice, he added with a wry, bitter smile, "His Royal Highness the Crown Prince probably hates my guts because of that incident, so please don't spread rumors."

Daphne let out a sudden chuckle. Seeing Dren’s flustered expression and recalling that the person she despised most in this life had met his end at this man's hands, her sense of gratitude deepened by another three parts. She smiled and said, "Fine, I won't say it. But still... thank you!"

"Thank me? For saving you just now? Didn't you already thank me?"

Daphne’s eyes curved into crescent moons as she smiled. "Don't ask. Just take it as a second 'thank you'."

***

In all his life, Dren had never engaged in such intimate conversation with a member of the opposite sex—if one didn't count wretched little rascals.

At his age, he was naturally in the prime of his youth, and his adolescent instincts yearned for a natural closeness to women. Though his aesthetic standards had been completely scrambled and were only slowly beginning to return to normal following that brothel escapade, how could habits formed over more than a decade be overturned overnight?

Yet this Daphne possessed a startling, breathtaking beauty. She was naturally gorgeous, her allure overshadowing the entire capital of Yanjing, especially those eyes—indescribably bright and captivating. Even Dren had to admit that, aesthetics aside, this woman's eyes were simply too gorgeous to ignore. This beauty that transcended boundaries instantly struck a chord with the country boy's primal adolescent instincts.

He didn't harbor any ulterior motives; he simply felt a natural, instinctive comfort in chatting idly and familiarly with such a pleasing, amiable young woman.

The two of them chatted casually for a while longer. Exhausted to the core, Dren found that even though he had been splashed with cold water, his energy was rapidly fading. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and his voice gradually dropped to a murmur. Eventually, Daphne would speak three or five sentences without even receiving a grunt in reply from him. Little by little, his consciousness blurred. Only the lingering thought that they weren't yet out of danger forced him to grit his teeth, sustaining his spirit so he wouldn't slip into unconsciousness.

Finally, after who knows how long, the sound of rhythmic, solemn hoofbeats echoed through the woods, accompanied by the blare of a military bugle—clearly, the patrolling Imperial Guards had arrived. With a collective release of tension, Dren felt the willpower holding him up simply collapse. He let out a long sigh and finally closed his eyes, drifting off into a deep, heavy sleep.

Daphne stood up, waving her arms toward the direction of the woods and shouting for help. Catching sight of a squad of Imperial Guard cavalry galloping out from the trees, the lead officer naturally recognized the Crown Princess. From afar, he dismounted from his horse along with his subordinates and hurried over on foot.

Seeing that Dren had already fallen asleep beside her, Daphne sighed inwardly.

"Your Highness!" The lead cavalry officer dropped to one knee on the ground.

"Mm." Looking slightly dazed, Daphne hesitated for a second before saying, "I was in the woods, my servant got separated from me, and I was ambushed by assassins just now... This officer happened to pass by and saved me..."

She gave a brief, concise account of the incident, causing the expressions of the Imperial Guards to change dramatically!

The Imperial Garden was heavily guarded today, yet assassins had managed to sneak in! And they had actually dared to attempt an assassination on the Crown Princess herself!! Fortunately, they hadn't succeeded; otherwise, had any mishap occurred, the Emperor's wrath would surely have seen everyone on duty lose their heads to atone for the crime!

"This is Baron Dren Thunder, an invited nobleman for this grand hunt. He may have sustained some injuries, so please take good care of him." Although Daphne wanted to escort Dren back personally, such a massive incident had occurred. Upon returning, she would undoubtedly face the Emperor's summons and interrogation, leaving her no time to personally look after Dren. Moreover, she had concealed her identity and deceived him; she honestly felt a bit too embarrassed to face this simple, straightforward young man right now.

Hesitating for a moment, Daphne looked down at the Imperial Guard officer and lowered her voice: "Do not spread word of this! Furthermore, this Baron Dren does not know who I am. You must guard your tongue tightly."

Having served in the palace for a long time, the Imperial Guard officer was well-versed in court intrigue and understood the extraordinary gravity of the situation. How would he dare speak recklessly? He repeatedly nodded with a solemn expression and gave stern, hushed instructions to his subordinates.

Moments later, the Imperial Guards stepped forward to escort Daphne. Naturally, an officer yielded his own mount for Her Highness to ride. The remaining guards lifted Dren and began making their way back through the woods by the same path they had come.

***

When Dren woke up, day was already fading into dusk. With a sudden flip of his body, he realized he was already back inside his own tent. His sabers and weapons were all accounted for, and even his Great-Roar Bow was resting neatly beside his cot. His mouth tasted bitter, carrying a heavy medicinal flavor—evidently, while he was unconscious, someone had fed him recuperative herbal medicine for his injuries.

The moment he sat up, Kato and Shalba strode into the tent. Catching sight of Dren awake, Shalba chuckled, "Ha! Dren, I knew you'd be fine! Damn it, we've carved our way through armies of thousands—what's a tiny little assassin to fear?"

Dren frowned, lowering his voice. "How did I get back?"

"A few Imperial Guards carried you back. Then you slept for a few hours. In the middle of it, His Majesty the Emperor heard you were injured and even sent a court physician to check on you and feed you some medicine."

The more Shalba talked, the more excited he got. "You've got incredible luck! Damn it, the three of us went chasing that fox, but Kato and I took a wrong turn and never managed to track you down. Who would've thought you'd stumble into a 'hero saves the damsel' scenario! Haha! Just wondering, which noble family's daughter was it that you saved? Who knows, maybe you can use the opportunity to win the beauty's hand!!"

Hearing this, a strange, knowing smile suddenly crept onto Dren’s face. "Hmph, win the beauty's hand? Don't even dream about it! To tell you the truth, the person I ran into was the Crown Princess."

"What?!" Kato, standing to the side, displayed an expression of sheer shock. "The Crown Princess?!"

"Yeah!" Dren’s expression turned dead serious. "But I played dumb and pretended the whole time not to know who she was... Hehe, otherwise, things would've gotten awfully troublesome!" He looked up at Kato. "After I was brought back, what has the outside world been saying about this?"

Kato lowered his voice. "Word outside is simply that you rescued a lost palace maidservant in the woods and happened to run into an Odin scout who had slipped into the garden..."

"Ha!" Dren let out a cold laugh. "A palace maidservant? Hmph... How could I not know who she was? Well... I genuinely didn't know at first, but later on... after talking for so long, I'm no idiot; I'd already guessed it, hehe!"

Shalba’s jaw dropped, and he was just about to say something when Kato—who was always the sharp and meticulous one among them—grabbed Shalba. He first turned around, darted to the tent flap to peer outside, and upon walking back, dropped the tent curtain before fixing his gaze on Dren. "You're saying you deliberately played dumb?"

"Of course," Dren frowned. "This whole thing is far from simple! The Crown Princess being targeted by an assassination... Hehe! How big of a deal is that? And when I ran into her, she didn't have a single servant or escort by her side. Even if they claim it was a coincidence... since when do that many coincidences happen in this world? Though I don't know much about other things, it's best not to touch these royal secrets at all! The moment you get involved, it's nothing but trouble! All I could do was play along with her and keep acting like a clueless bumpkin."

He looked at his two sworn brothers and lowered his voice further: "That way, no matter who investigates later, nobody will drag me into this mess! Because as far as they're concerned, I 'knew nothing'! Otherwise, if they knew I figured out she was the Crown Princess, why did I save her? More importantly, why did I happen to appear right there at that exact moment??

Even though my conscience is completely clean, if others start questioning me, I won't be able to explain it clearly. Secrets involving imperial assassinations—once you can't explain them clearly, that's when it gets most troublesome! It's much better to just play the fool right to the end!"

Dren’s expression grew grave. "The palace is definitely going to issue a gag order over this! The Crown Princess being assassinated is such a massive scandal that unless they can thoroughly uncover the culprits, they'll do everything in their power to sweep it under the rug!! Damn it, I figured that out on the spot! What if the Emperor is ruthless enough to slaughter everyone who knows the truth first... do I still want to live or not? But since the Emperor sent a doctor to treat my injuries, I suppose they aren't planning to silence me permanently. I imagine the palace will send someone to sound me out and give me a warning, though. Hehe... Luckily, I played dumb the whole time! As long as the Crown Princess herself believes I didn't know who she was, the Emperor will believe I had nothing to do with this affair. Even if they're silencing people, the axe won't fall on my head."

Kato frowned. "Assassinating the Crown Princess... A woman, no matter how elevated her status, what's the point of assassinating her? Right now, this place is crawling with major figures from wealthy and powerful noble houses, and even the Emperor himself is here... To target a woman, their objective—"

Dren immediately cut him off. "That has nothing to do with us! We don't know anything, and we don't need to guess. Whoever's behind it, it's none of our business. You can't touch this kind of trouble—not even an inch! If anyone asks, I'll just keep playing the fool all the way. If I really can't keep up the act anymore, I'll just pretend I'm suddenly having an epiphany—that'll do the trick!"

Kato and Shalba exchanged glances. Kato let out a sigh. "Dren, I used to think you were just a country bumpkin, but now I see you're actually a fox that just scampered down from the mountains!"

Dren chuckled dryly, though a trace of lingering anxiety remained in his heart.

He had gotten himself mixed up in this trouble; was it going to be a blessing or a curse? Having saved the Crown Princess's life, even if he played dumb, the imperial house couldn't possibly not show some token of gratitude, right?

***

True to Dren's guess, mere moments after he woke up, a palace attendant arrived outside, bringing an order from the Emperor.

"Baron Dren, His Majesty commands you to present yourself for an audience immediately."

This palace messenger clearly knew nothing of the situation, wearing a relaxed smile on his face as he said, "Baron Dren is deeply favored by His Majesty nowadays. I ask the Baron to look after this humble servant in the future."

Dren gave a faint smile and glanced at Kato inside the tent. Kato immediately fished out a gold coin and slipped it into the palace messenger's hand.

Following that, Dren simply straightened his attire and set off in the company of the palace attendant, heading toward the grand tent where Emperor Conthos resided.

*Damn it, I got the Crown Prince's favorite pretty-boy killed, and now... now I've gone and pinched his wife's boobs... Looks like the grudge is only getting deeper and deeper!*

*Could this be a deliberate trap to lure me in so they can haul me off and chop my head off?*

*Well... probably not. As for the matter of me pinching her boobs, a woman of her standing surely wouldn't have the face to speak of it. Besides, I saved her life, and she seems like a kind-hearted soul; she shouldn't try to harm me.*

*Sigh... that Crown Princess, her eyes really are gorgeous... Damn it, that Crown Prince must be an absolute idiot, failing to properly cherish such an alluring wife and instead preferring to play with rabbits and poke chrysanthemums... Bah! Pui pui! How utterly disgusting!*

*(To be continued)*

*(Note: "Sanqi Chinese" is simple and easy to remember)*