Wendy’s body trembled at the soft touch on his lips.
It was very light, very soft.
It carried the slight coolness of her fingertips and an indescribable magic.
He did not step back.
His mind went blank in that instant—all his restlessness and anxiety completely soothed by that single, gentle touch.
The figures of the two women outside the door, their anger and tears, now felt incredibly distant, as blurry as memories from a past life.
Xiya withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened.
She crouched down again and flipped the Pirate Memoirs to a new page.
Those pure purple eyes once more focused on the ancient text.
“See, this part is more interesting.”
“That woman didn’t even need to show up personally. She simply spread the word that the Iron Sail team’s vice-commander had secretly hoarded a batch of rare Magic Pearls meant to be tribute for the Pirate King.”
Wendy’s thoughts were forcibly pulled back to the book.
He lowered his head and looked at the passage Xiya was pointing to.
“They searched his ship and found nothing. But once the seed of suspicion is planted, it germinates wildly.”
“Trust is more fragile than an iron warship.”
Xiya’s voice was soft, but every word struck Wendy’s heart.
The Prince felt his parched mind being moistened by a clear spring.
This was exactly what he needed—this feeling of clearing away the fog and pointing straight to the core of the problem.
Wendy picked up his pen and wrote rapidly on the sheepskin parchment beside him, his thinking clearer than ever.
“I… I understand.”
The first step to breaking someone’s will is to break their trust.
By creating internal conflict, you make the sturdy fortress collapse from within.
This was far more brilliant—and far more vicious—than a charge of a thousand soldiers.
He wrote quickly, the scratch of the pen tip across the paper blending with the crackling of the charcoal in the fireplace, forming a soothing rhythm.
Xiya said nothing more.
She simply crouched quietly beside him, one hand cupping her cheek, watching him in silence.
A strange atmosphere filled the room.
Wendy could feel her presence, could smell the pleasant lavender scent on her.
That scent wrapped around him, letting him focus without distraction, fully immersed in his own world.
After who knows how long, Wendy finally stopped writing and let out a long breath.
He looked at the lengthy exposition on the parchment, and a huge sense of achievement welled up inside him.
“Finished writing?”
Xiya asked softly.
“Mm, I’ve written down all my thoughts on this section.”
Wendy flexed his slightly stiff wrist.
“Great.”
Xiya stood up, walked to a small table, and picked up a teapot that had been prepared beforehand.
Warm honey water was poured into a cup.
She handed the cup to Wendy.
Wendy took the warm cup and drank a big gulp.
The sweet liquid slid down his throat, driving away all fatigue.
“Replenish your fluids. You were too absorbed in your writing.”
“Thank you, Xiya,” he said sincerely.
“Without you, I’d probably still be staring blankly at that sentence.”
“I only helped you find the right key.”
Xiya sat down on the sofa across from him, a low table with ancient books between them.
“The one who can open that door will always be you yourself.”
This feeling of being recognized and understood…
Damn.
It’s way too addictive.
Wendy realized he could no longer do without this feeling.
Astreia and Laxana only expressed their desires in the most direct way, making him feel like a trophy being fought over.
But Xiya was different.
She made him feel like he was a work of art being carefully refined.
She appreciated him, guided him, allowed him to reveal a brilliance he himself had never discovered.
This kind of spiritual fulfillment was far more intense than any physical pleasure.
“Wendy,” Xiya suddenly spoke.
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever thought about what the essence of power is?”
The question came out of nowhere.
Wendy was startled.
Power?
Is it Astreia’s indestructible Battle Qi?
Or Laxana’s ever-changing Arcane Power?
“It is ‘control’.”
Xiya didn’t wait for his answer; she just continued on her own.
She picked up a chess piece from the low table and turned it gently between her fingers.
“Control the emotions of your enemies, control the direction of the battlefield, control the desires of your allies, and even… control the heart of the one you love.”
She raised her head, her purple eyes deep and enchanting under the soft light.
“When you can control all of this, then you are truly strong. Only then can the theories of war you write unleash their full power.”
Wendy’s heart skipped a beat.
Control… the heart of the one you love?
Hearing that from her mouth… it felt… like there was hidden meaning.
“Your talent goes far beyond writing an On War.”
Xiya placed the chess piece back on the board with a crisp sound.
“The Princess’s pride, Lady Laxana’s dependence, Instructor Tracey’s utilitarianism… you were born knowing how to move people’s hearts. You see them very clearly, don’t you?”
The Prince did not speak.
In front of this woman, he felt all his disguises were transparent.
He truly did see through them.
But precisely because he saw through them, he felt exhausted.
Because he had to play different roles to cater to their different needs.
“But catering is passive.”
A meaningful smile appeared on Xiya’s face.
“Control is active.”
“Do you want to learn?”
Wendy’s Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.
He looked at her eyes, which seemed to see through everything, and felt as if he were being lured by a demon—one he simply couldn’t refuse.
“I do.”
He heard his own dry reply.
“Very good.”
Xiya stood up and walked over to him.
Instead of crouching again, she naturally sat on the armrest of the sofa beside him.
From that position, she could look down at him from above.
She leaned forward slightly, and a strand of pink hair fell again, this time brushing against his cheek.
Wendy’s body stiffened.
He could smell the even richer fragrance of her hair, feel the slight warmth radiating from her body.
“Let’s do a small exercise.”
Xiya picked up the sheepskin parchment he had just finished writing and pointed to one sentence.
“You say we must exploit human weaknesses. So, tell me: what are the greatest weaknesses of those two junior girls beside you?”
Wendy’s breathing grew labored.
Astreia’s weakness?
Her pride, and that possessiveness over him she refused to admit.
Laxana’s weakness?
Her insecurity, and that dependence that had already turned pathological.
“Say it.”
Xiya’s voice was seductive.
“Astreia… is possessiveness,” Wendy said with difficulty.
“Laxana… is dependence.”
“Excellent.”
Xiya nodded in satisfaction.
“Then if you want to ‘control’ them so they don’t cause you trouble like tonight, what should you do?”
Make them stop causing trouble?
The answer was simple.
Wendy’s mind raced.
Shift their focus away from the matter of “fighting over me.”
How to shift it?
Create a common, stronger enemy.
The moment that thought surfaced, a chill ran down Wendy’s back.
He instinctively looked at Xiya.
That gentle smile was still on her face.
This woman…
From the beginning—driving Astreia and Laxana away, and then my “choice” just now…
Was all of this part of her plan?
She escalated my conflict with them, then appeared as a “savior” to pull me to her side.
And then, naturally, became the common enemy of both of them.
“It looks like you’ve already figured it out.”
Xiya reached out and gently stroked Wendy’s cheek.
The gesture was like soothing a frightened pet.
“See, controlling people’s hearts is that simple.”
“You don’t need to do anything—just let me become their enemy.”
“They’ll pour all their energy into dealing with me, and you’ll have an absolutely quiet environment to create in.”
“Isn’t that killing two birds with one stone?”
Her voice echoed in his ears, every word full of temptation.
Wendy felt his worldview being deconstructed and reshaped by this woman, bit by bit.
Yes.
That way, all the problems would be solved.
He wouldn’t be fought over anymore; he could peacefully finish his work.
And they would have a clear target to vent on.
But…
Wouldn’t that mean he had completely betrayed them and sided with Xiya?
“Don’t use such an ugly word as ‘betrayal,’ Wendy.”
Xiya seemed to read his mind; her fingertips lightly traced along his jawline.
“It’s called ‘strategy.’”
“A necessary means to achieve the ultimate goal.”
“This, too, is part of war, isn’t it?”
She threw his own written theory back at him, unchanged.
Wendy was completely speechless.
He felt like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web.
The more he struggled, the tighter he was bound.
And the weaver of this net was, in the gentlest way, slowly draining his will.
He looked into her face so close to his own.
In those purple eyes, he saw the reflection of his own disheartened appearance.
He had lost.
He was utterly convinced.
And even… secretly, somewhat… enjoying it.