Consort Yun's lips curved into a wicked little smile. "What's the matter? Did I poke a sore spot? Or was I wrong?"
Lin Feng exhaled through his nose, half-laughing, half-irritated. "Fine. Pretend I never said anything."
She stepped closer, the moonlight catching in her golden hair, voice syrupy with mockery. "Go on, eat her if you want. Nobody's going to scold you for it."
He rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "Yeah, yeah. I'm leaving. If someone spots me slipping out of your palace in the dead of night, your precious reputation goes up in smoke."
Yun reached up and playfully pinched his cheek. "Aw, you're actually worried about my face? Good boy. Don't worry—I'll create an official reason for you to visit Western Moon Palace whenever you like. Perfectly legitimate."
Lin Feng grunted, still sulking. Meat served on a silver platter and he still hadn't tasted it—who wouldn't be salty?
"I'll walk you out," she said softly, sliding her fingers between his.
They stepped into the corridor. The cold night breeze finally slapped the lust out of his brain.
Holy shit. I really just waltzed into an imperial consort's bedchamber after midnight like I had a death wish. If she'd wanted me gone, one quiet order and I'd be fertiliser by sunrise.
But she didn't.
That meant the door was wide open. It was only a matter of time before he kicked it down and claimed the prize.
A feral grin spread across his face in the darkness.
Last life I was a broke, powerless virgin who died under a car.
This life? Heaven handed me a second ticket. Everything I ever drooled over in novels—generals thundering across battlefields, mages raining fire from the sky—I'm taking it all.
And those smug princes strutting around? Your authority? I'll steal it. Your women? Don't mind if I do.
Under the starless sky, the reborn Lin Feng made his vow. No noble, world-saving bullshit—just raw, glorious ambition.
Back in his courtyard he face-planted onto the bed and passed out instantly, snoring like a drunk tiger.
"Boat'll straighten when it hits the bridge," he mumbled, mangling the old saying without a care in the world.
Morning came too soon.
Culture & Literature Hall with the Crown Prince? Hard pass.
Today his mission was crystal clear: map every major player in the capital. When he eventually walked into War Tiger Academy, he needed to know exactly whose face he could punch, whose ass he should kiss, and whose sister he could steal.
Two days of Little Leaf's crash course had already painted the picture.
The court was a nest of vipers wearing silk.
"Little Leaf," he asked lazily while she listed officials and territories, "does His Majesty only have sons? Where are all the princesses?"
"How could there be no princesses? Eleven princes and seven princesses," she answered proudly.
"I've seen the princes. Never laid eyes on a single princess."
"They study separately—'virtue lies in lacking talent' and all that nonsense. But Third Princess is at Sacred Light Academy mastering magic, and Sixth Princess trains at War Tiger Academy."
Lin Feng's brain short-circuited in the best way. "Princesses at the academy too?"
"Most royal children are. Culture & Literature Hall is just for the first and fifteenth of each month—imperial etiquette lessons. The rest of the time they're at whichever academy fits their path."
A slow, evil grin spread across his face. "So the academy is basically a candy store full of royal sweets…"
Little Leaf blinked innocently. "Young Master?"
"Nothing. Keep going."
She continued, and he soaked it all in.
Current power structure, condensed:
- The Lin clan used to be untouchable—second only to the imperial family. Now, after Grandfather and Father died, the tiger had no teeth.
- Biggest dog in the yard: Prime Minister Zhou. His daughter was the empress; the Second Prince who'd cracked Lin Feng's skull open was her son. The old man himself was a Battle Emperor—one of maybe five people in the entire capital who could kill you by sneezing too hard.
- Rising star: Minister of Revenue Maag Vyner, Mage Lord, political genius, new money with old ambition.
- Military: the Protector-General seat had stayed empty since Lin Zhennan's death. The emperor personally held the command tally, but the Lin family still possessed the Tiger Might Gold Medallion and the legendary Hero-Gathering War Drum—symbols that could theoretically rally the entire army overnight. The highest-ranking officer still loyal to the Lins was General Hurt, Grandfather's last disciple and Father's martial brother. Even he was being slowly strangled by the Zhou and Maag factions.
Lin Feng filed every name, every grudge, every weakness away.
The door slid open without warning.
Lin Tianjiao strode in, Lan Zhu a silent shadow behind her.
Lin Feng leapt up like he'd been electrocuted. "Nephew greets Aunt!"
She sat, sharp eyes scanning him head to toe. "Head better?"
"Little Leaf—tea for Aunt." He smiled sweetly. "Much better. Just a few old memories are foggy."
Of everyone in this world, she was the one who could smell bullshit from a mile away. He walked on eggshells.
"Good." She sipped her tea, then dropped the hammer. "Everything at War Tiger Academy is arranged. I'll take you there personally tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow?!" The word came out as a squeak.
She arched a perfect brow. "Problem?"
"N-no! Just… excited. Can't wait."
Inside he was screaming. One more day and he could've sealed the deal with Consort Yun, maybe even seduced a maid, eunuch, and passing goldfish while he was at it!
Lin Tianjiao set her cup down with a soft clink. "You'll enter as a freshman. No special treatment, no Lin family banners. You'll start at the bottom and claw your way up with your own hands and fists. Understood?"
Lin Feng swallowed. "Crystal clear."
She rose. "Rest well tonight. At dawn we leave."
The moment the door closed behind her, Lin Feng flopped backward onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow he'd be thrown to the wolves.
Fine.
Let them come.
He'd always been better at being the wolf anyway.