The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar] Chapter 69

Feathery snowflakes filled the sky.

The wind made Lin Jing shiver. Hugging a flower pot, he turned and walked toward the Count’s mansion.

The rat, having witnessed everything alongside Lin Jing, was too shaken to speak.

After a moment, it suddenly asked, “If a score of a thousand makes Veraka like this, then how terrifying must a score of three thousand be for Wan Feng Wan Yue?”

Lin Jing paused mid-step, then lowered his gaze and said indifferently, “Who knows?”

Silence followed them the rest of the way.

By the time they returned to the Count’s mansion, Madam Mary and the two older sisters were already there.

Lin Jing stood at the doorway, his hair and dress singed by fire. He was disheveled and utterly exhausted.

“Oh my god, Christine…” It was Madam Mary who opened the door for him.

Seeing him in such a state, the fury that had been building in Madam Mary’s chest was suddenly swallowed back down, turning instead into distress.

The always composed and elegant countess, for once, revealed a flustered expression. She hurriedly ordered Jenny to prepare hot water for Lin Jing to bathe and sent someone to summon the best doctor in town.

In truth, Lin Jing had escaped the fire unharmed. After a bath and washing his hair, he felt completely refreshed.

Dressed in a soft, pale purple nightgown, he was ready to collapse into bed.

But just as he was heading upstairs, his eldest sister, Bella, grabbed his arm.

The sharp-tongued and temperamental eldest sister, for once, darkened her expression. “Christine, don’t you have anything to explain to us?”

Lin Jing: “……”

Bella sneered. “If you can’t give me a reason why you ran into the forest, I’m going to smash that plant of yours.”

Lin Jing sucked in a sharp breath and forced a smile that looked more like he was about to cry. “Bella, of course, I have a reason.”

Bella curled her lips mockingly. “Then speak.”

Lin Jing was panicking. He was just about to reach the final chapter of this whole ordeal—he couldn’t let his sister ruin it at the last step!

Standing on the staircase, he struggled for a long time under Bella’s increasingly impatient gaze. Then, inspiration struck. His eyes reddened, and in a trembling, grief-stricken voice, he cried out, “Because I love him.”

Bella: “……”

Bella: “?”

With the beginning set, the rest was easy to follow. Lin Jing wiped away nonexistent tears with his hand and continued, his voice laced with sorrow. “Cyril came to this city to wake the princess. He said it was his mission. I love him, so I want to fulfill it for him.”

A vein twitched on Bella’s forehead. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to hold herself back. She was afraid that if she spoke now, she’d scold this love-struck fool of a sister until she cried.

“But Cyril doesn’t love you, Christine.” A sigh came from the darkness as Bonnie, the second sister, approached slowly, cradling Lin Jing’s flower pot in her arms.

Bonnie, sweet and demure, had honey-colored eyes filled with both warmth and sorrow. Unlike the last time, when she and Bella had sternly lectured Lin Jing before they entered the palace, their exhaustion from all of Christine’s reckless antics had drained their anger. Now, their words were gentle persuasion.

Lin Jing, however, only had eyes for his flower pot, itching to snatch it back as soon as possible.

But he was supposed to be a heartbroken, fragile maiden right now. So he simply lowered his gaze, eyes red, and remained silent.

Bonnie returned the pot to him. “Maybe it was a mistake that you ever met Cyril at the theater.”

Lin Jing nervously took the flower pot from her hands.

Bonnie’s voice softened. “I remember that day. You and Cyril stood at the theater entrance, talking so happily. When you parted, he even gave you a rose. Mother was so furious she threw it away, and you cried your heart out. After that, you only became more reckless. Christine, I have never seen anyone as impulsive as you—chasing after him in front of so many people, confessing to a stranger at the church gates.”

Lin Jing wasn’t actually interested in any of this, so he just lowered his head obediently, pretending to reflect.

Bonnie’s disappointment deepened as she looked at the flower pot in his hands. “Christine, do you still remember that sunflower from when we were little?” Her gaze was sorrowful. “Not everything you devote yourself to will have a good outcome. He will never love you.”

Bella pulled Bonnie aside, her tone weary. “Enough. Let’s leave it at that for now. Christine just got back from the forest—she’s exhausted.”

Bonnie sighed and turned to leave.

Only after they had both gone did Lin Jing lift his head. His eyes were as red as a rabbit’s, but his face changed in an instant.

He jabbed a finger into the magic vine and gritted his teeth. “If you can’t wake the princess, I’m cremating you.”

You made me suffer so much for nothing.

The magic vine was sleeping, shaking its leaves in dissatisfaction.

Lin Jing fiddled with its fruit. The fruit had turned a deep crimson, about the size of a thumb, smooth and round like a little tomato.

Right now, the entire palace was under Princess Kate’s control. But this dear aunt had no intention of letting the little princess wake up.

Lin Jing had no choice but to find another way in, making up an excuse to enter the palace.

He rode in a carriage with Madam Mary.

Madam Mary, though strict in words, had a soft heart. She couldn’t resist her youngest daughter’s pleading and, while holding a lace-decorated fan, warned her repeatedly, “Once you deliver the item, you must return to the estate and stay there for a year. You are never to see Cyril again in this lifetime, understand?”

Lin Jing smiled sweetly and obediently. “Understood, Mother.”

Madam Mary was satisfied and added, “Cyril is just a commoner. Someone of your status should never have fallen for him.”

Lin Jing kept up his sweet, obedient smile, clutching the glass bead in his hand.

When he stepped out of the carriage, the snow was still falling.

Madam Mary reached out her gloved hand and tied the ribbon of Lin Jing’s hood securely.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Madam Mary asked, “Do you need me to go with you?”

Lin Jing quickly shook his head, forcing a smile. “No, let me say my final goodbye to him alone.”

With that, he hugged his potted plant and stepped into the palace, his boots crunching against the snow.

After the king’s death, the palace was shrouded in sorrow. Princess Kate had shed a few fake tears, but soon enough, she couldn’t contain her ambition and took over her late brother’s authority.

Lin Jing knew the way to the tower like the back of his hand. He rushed toward it with the rat in tow, only to find that soldiers had already surrounded the area.

The tower was covered in thorny vines, which spread from the top window, twisting around the walls in layers, grotesque and menacing.

The magic vine in his arms was thrilled, wriggling around and proudly pointing at the scene with a leaf as if boasting about its masterpiece.

Lin Jing was incredulous. “You actually dare take credit for this mess?! It’s a miracle I haven’t burned you to ashes.”

“……” Oh.

The foolish magic vine instantly drooped its leaves.

Guards were stationed at every corner, leaving no way inside.

Just as Lin Jing was at a loss, he saw a figure emerging from the tower.

A black cloak billowed in the wind, and the young man’s long silver hair blended almost seamlessly with the falling snow.

—Cyril?

Both Lin Jing and the rat were stunned.

This mysterious bard had somehow gained an inexplicable level of respect within the palace.

Cyril’s expression was calm and indifferent. Beside him stood an elegantly dressed woman.

She wore an elaborate rose-red court gown, her black hair pinned up beneath a wide red hat. A white glove covered her hand, with a ring on her middle finger—a symbol of status. The guards respectfully cleared a path for her.

Lin Jing recognized her.

She was Princess Kate—the woman all of Eberon was currently talking about.

Before leaving, Princess Kate tilted her head and smiled, whispering something to Cyril.

Cyril shook his head slightly and bid her a polite farewell.

Lin Jing was dumbfounded.

The rat muttered, “D*mn, why do I get the feeling this Cyril guy is way more complicated than he seems?”

Lin Jing replied, “Of course. Do you even remember who sent the rose brooch?”

The rat instantly sucked in a sharp breath.

Lin Jing was about to say more, but when he looked ahead, his pupils dilated, and he immediately fell silent.

Cyril was walking toward them.

Snowflakes drifted silently.

Lin Jing and the rat tensed up, bracing themselves for whatever was coming.

The serious atmosphere only made the brainless magic vine even more excited.

It shook its leaves in the snow, seemingly waving at Cyril.

Lin Jing was so furious that he wanted to pluck its leaves off.

“Christine?” Cyril frowned, his voice as cold as the falling snow. “What are you doing here?”

Lin Jing hadn’t interacted with him in so long that he didn’t know how to respond.

Cyril’s gaze was sharp and cold. “This is not a place you should be.”

Lin Jing met those icy silver-blue eyes and suddenly snapped back to his senses.

He immediately slipped into his role as the lovesick little white flower.

“I…” He opened his mouth, hesitated for a long moment, then paled and bit his lip. He stepped forward, holding out the potted plant with trembling hands, his fingers clutching it so tightly they turned white. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Cyril, this is for you.”

Cyril remained silent.

Lin Jing forced a smile, his eyes red-rimmed with grievance. His voice quivered. “I… I searched through ancient texts and found a way to break the sleeping curse. It’s this magic vine’s fruit. I went into the Black Forest, deep into the heart of it, to find it. Here… you can give it to the princess. If she eats the fruit, maybe she’ll wake up.”

Cyril did not move.

The magic vine, still held up in the air, sensed the snow falling harder and immediately wrapped its leaves around its fruit, choosing to go back to sleep.

Lin Jing’s arms were starting to ache.

Suddenly, a snowflake landed on his eyelashes.

The tiny obstruction blurred his vision, making it particularly uncomfortable, but he had no free hand to wipe it away.

At that moment, Cyril suddenly reached out—not to take the plant but to brush the snow from Lin Jing’s eyelashes.

Cyril’s hands were beautiful.

Pale and slender, with an oddly cool touch against Lin Jing’s skin.

Lin Jing froze, eyes wide, staring in bewilderment.

Cyril’s voice was calm and indifferent. “The snow is heavy outside. Come in.”

After speaking, the young man walked past him, heading forward.

His black boots crunched against the snow, the sound crisp and clear.

Lin Jing stood there for a long moment before snapping back to reality. Clutching the now-sleeping magic vine, he hurried after Cyril’s steps.

Inside, the warmth of the fireplace melted away the cold. Cyril removed his cloak and hung it on a rack by the door. His silver hair gleamed faintly under the firelight. From the side, his waist was slender, and his legs were long and straight.

As he walked over, removing his gloves, his presence carried an overwhelming sense of oppression.

Lin Jing placed the flowerpot on the table, watching him anxiously.

The rat had snuck out to scout the tower.

The fire in the fireplace crackled continuously.

Now, only the two of them remained in the room.

Cyril said, “You won’t be able to see the princess right now.”

Lin Jing: “???”

Maintaining his persona, he bit his lip nervously, his brown eyes full of surprise. “Why?”

Cyril sat down and handed him a cup of hot tea. “By order of Princess Kate, the tower will only be opened once all the knights of the forest have returned.”

Lin Jing: “…” Wow, she’s not even trying to hide her malice?

Suppressing the urge to curse, he hesitated. “Then what do we do?”

Cyril stared at him with his silver-blue eyes and asked curiously, “Do you really want to wake the princess that badly?”

Lin Jing had no choice but to push forward. “Yes.”

Cyril was in no hurry. “Why?”

Lin Jing took a deep breath. “Because you said it was your mission to wake the princess.”

Cyril’s tone remained indifferent. “Yes, that is my mission.”

He raised his eyes, the silver-blue gaze as deep as the universe itself, quietly locking onto Lin Jing. “And you? What’s your reason?”

Lin Jing: “…”

Right now, he was supposed to have teary eyes and softly confess, “Because I like you.”

But when the words reached his lips, he couldn’t say them.

He had no problem pretending to be madly in love in front of others, but in front of Cyril, he just couldn’t keep up the act—it felt unnatural.

Maybe it was something about their uncanny similarity, but facing Cyril always reminded him of that awful confession back at the Imperial University Science Museum.

It was so terrible, so uniquely awful, that no one but himself could understand, yet the emotions still threatened to overwhelm him.

Lin Jing took another deep breath, forcing himself to look into Cyril’s eyes, mentally chanting: This is just role-playing. This is Christine’s confession. This is just a game. It’s just a game!

But those cold, indifferent eyes were too familiar.

The regret and sadness he had been suppressing in this game surged back up.

He had always wondered—if that night, before Xu Wanzhi left, he had just spoken plainly instead of hiding behind vague talk of the universe, would he have gotten a clear answer?

Good or bad, at least there would have been an answer.

Cyril said nothing, simply watching him in silence.

Lin Jing’s mind went blank.

Suddenly, it felt like he was back on that day.

Fireworks exploded in his ears.

The Science Museum was packed with people.

Screams surrounded him like a tidal wave.

Drowning out all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Lin Jing was dazed for a long time before he finally spoke. “Because I like you.”

There was no forced vulnerability, no deliberately acted-out sorrow.

Just a confession—one that had taken far too long.

But strangely enough, it felt real.

And that made it a little sad.

Because I like you.

Cyril seemed unsurprised but was still momentarily stunned.

Then, suddenly, he smiled lazily—relaxed, almost careless—but his eyes were sharp and invasive.

Before Lin Jing could react, the young man on the sofa abruptly stood up and leaned in.

A shadow fell over him, and as if asserting dominance, Cyril tilted Lin Jing’s chin up.

Lin Jing stared at him in a daze, unable to move under the sheer intensity of Cyril’s presence.

In Cyril’s eyes, he saw a look he was all too familiar with—

And in that moment, it was terrifying.

Silver hair framed his face as he leaned closer, cold and distant as the snow.

Lin Jing thought—any second now, he’s going to kiss me.

But just as Cyril was about to, he hesitated.

Instead, he gently kissed Lin Jing’s brow.

His voice was low and slightly hoarse, tinged with amusement as he asked, “Don’t like the universe anymore?”