Chapter 59: That’s the Lord’s Youngest Prince—This Is Nothing

In that snow-covered manor, the servants only needed to finish their assigned tasks before they could live freely.

But there was one line they could not cross: they had to obey the butler’s orders.

Yes.

Although the manor had its nominal young master, everyone only followed the butler’s commands, as if he were the true master of the manor.

They also dared not get close to the young master—that too was the butler’s order.

That snow-white, soft little child, ever since he had lived in this manor, could no longer leave it. The manor became the prison of his childhood.

Every time they saw him, the bionic butler was always by his side.

Was he extremely good to him?

Then why did it seem like he was hollowing out the manor’s authority, propping the young master up in an empty high position?

Was he bad to him?

Yet he was endlessly patient, spoiling him rotten. He would carry him rather than let him walk, and even at seven or eight years old, he personally fed him meals, taught him to read and recite poetry. Every night, there was a long bedtime story, told without tiring.

The young master asked him, “Why can’t I leave the manor?”

The butler said, “It’s too dangerous outside. A young master of your noble status should be pampered at home and not venture out easily.”

The young master was very disappointed. He had no friends, and the butler was like both brother and father to him.

He could only leave the manor once a month, with the butler accompanying him to see his real father and brothers, where he was kissed and hugged, met with endless reluctance to part.

Yet he was still sent back to this manor.

His father and brothers felt very guilty toward him. They said, “When you grow up, you can come out. We’ll send you to the best comprehensive university on Capital Star to experience real campus life.”

He didn’t know how many secret negotiations this decision had gone through, but in the end, it was presented to him as a gift.

The young master had never anticipated adulthood so much.

At sixteen, relying on his innate and ever-improving coquetry skills, he wheedled a Light Brain from the butler.

A Light Brain truly his own, with which he could chat with others, access Star Net, play games, read web novels, and follow cyber celebrities.

Later, he met the most important stranger.

And later still, they had a fight. The butler said, “It’s too dangerous outside. You’ll come back here on your own.”

“I am the most suitable person for you.”

The young master thought, After what you’ve done, you still expect me to come back voluntarily? In your dreams!

…

Well, how to put it?

After going full circle, he had still returned here. Xie Jianxun sighed.

He said listlessly, “Whatever. Anyway, I do need your help.”

Particle effects swirled without wind, gradually printing out a human form.

First came the rough outline, revealing a tall adult male; then the details built up—long black hair braided into a plait that elegantly draped down his back, the tips reflecting faint ambient light.

He opened a pair of emerald eyes.

Likely due to artificial construction, the edges of those eyes were tinged with a silvery metallic sheen, occasionally flowing with subtle glimmers.

A robe like flowing light draped down, and Julius stood completely before them.

If no one had said he was a real person on the other end of the comms, everyone present would have thought they’d entered a virtual world, with the gentleman before them being some legendary elf!

Delin stared dumbfounded. “Th-this… this…”

So there really were people who could look like that!

Xie Jianxun’s voice broke the room’s silence.

He warily stepped back, looking at him with shock and suspicion. “I know you’re angry that I ran out, but you don’t have to dress like that…”

So, uh, flashy?

He hadn’t dressed like this before!

…And when did this dog of a man learn to braid his own hair?

He knew Julius’s appearance had always hit his aesthetic perfectly, but seeing it too much before, he hadn’t felt much.

Now, after so long apart, catching sight of him suddenly nearly left him dazed from the impact.

Julius caught that subtle daze of his, lowered his eyes, and revealed a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

“I also wanted to dress in the most beautiful way to see you. Lest you be dazzled by the outside scenery and forget me.”

Xie Jianxun: “…”

Could they not dwell on this?

Pretending nothing had happened, he hurriedly pulled the topic back, afraid Julius would change his mind and hang up.

Xie Jianxun turned sideways and pointed at the massive Energy Cannon on the ground. “Julius, can you fix this?”

Everyone in the room held their breath, staring at the figure in the center, terrified he’d casually say he couldn’t.

Julius did not disappoint them. He said casually, “Of course.”

“Help me out…”

“Why?” Julius said carelessly, his gaze fixed on Xie Jianxun. “You no longer listen to me.”

Xie Jianxun took a deep breath, not wanting to argue with him here.

He coquettishly relented, showing some goodwill first to get this dog of a man to agree. “Yes, you’re right. This world has too many dangers. But this really is urgent, Julius…”

“Hug me.”

The dog of a man opened his arms to him—a pose perfectly suited for a shorter young master to pounce into, looking extremely familiar. “These days without seeing you, I’ve been unable to eat or sleep, regretting day and night.”

Xie Jianxun was stunned: “…”

You’re a standard bionic person— what does not eating even mean to you?

Julius: “Even if you really fall for someone else, I should personally go with you to meet him.”

Xie Jianxun: “…………”

He could endure no more and snapped angrily, “Julius, I don’t want to bring up your nonsense, nor did I call you to pick a fight.”

“And… virtual projections have no sense of touch!”

His cheeks flushed faintly with anger, but his voice was too soft, carrying no real momentum. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed like sulking coquetry rather than a real quarrel.

Julius watched him for a moment before finally schooling his expression.

His voice deepened. “Then why do you need my help? And who has the gall to order you around with this work?”

Xie Jianxun: “Wait…”

The butler, who didn’t seem entirely human, scanned the room—from the City Lord’s sweating face to Delin’s nervous fist-clenching. He couldn’t help furrowing his brow.

“You’ve lost so much weight, Your Highness.”

Suddenly, he said earnestly, “I didn’t forcibly send people to find you, only because I feared you’d hurt yourself in the chaos.”

“I was willing to wait for you to come to your senses, but I never wanted to see you exploited by others. Is this how you all mistreat him?”

The last sentence was directed at the others.

His figure flickered illusorily, his voice cold and ethereal like a judging deity or Buddha, his presence terrifying as crashing ocean waves. Even the most experienced City Lord froze on the spot, stammering, “I-I didn’t. Every day I provided the finest meals…”

“This is the youngest son of the East Border Lord,” Julius said calmly. “What you have amounts to nothing.”

The Federation was divided into the Southeast, Northwest Four Borders, governed by four lords.

The Four Lords ruled independently, not interfering with each other.

In their own star systems, a lord was like an emperor—absolute, supreme… excluding the fifth lord god of the Virtual Nation.

A lord’s son was a true prince.

What good things could a mere Golden City offer to entertain His Highness?

Under everyone’s gazes, Xie Jianxun nearly smashed the Light Brain off.

Expressionless, he said, “One sentence from me. Will you help or not?”

Julius sighed softly. “Since you’ve asked, of course I’ll obey. But I have one small condition.”

He looked down at his tiny master, eyeing every inch of his body with his gaze.

How could the little prince, who had grown up in the palm of his hand, end up adrift elsewhere?

“Tell me where you are now. I’ll dispatch the Far Voyage Army to bring you home.”

…

At the top of the watchtower, the city defense soldier responsible for observation lay prone on the desk, nervously recording data.

Under his pen, the King Insect’s data from the instruments gradually took shape amid the scratch of brush on paper.

Toward the end, he paused, looking at his drawing.

If he hadn’t drawn wrong, this King Insect would be as tall as the city walls, with solid chitin armor and sturdy insect limbs. It seemed to have massive pincers that could crush a person in one snap.

In the other corner of the room, another city defense soldier silently watched the instruments, not daring to move.

A moment later, he lowered his head and typed into the comms device before hitting send.

“It’s already approaching within a hundred kilometers,” he said dazedly. “Are you sure it’s definitely coming here? What if it veers off midway?”

The one drawing was the veteran city defense soldier. He shook his head.

His words were certain: “It’s definitely coming for us, here for revenge on its companions.”

A ripping sound rang out, and both men craned their necks toward the base of the watchtower.

Insects had appeared there, climbing up the rough brick walls along the tower’s exterior. A unfamiliar militia member slew it.

He killed it effortlessly—not like killing an insect, more like slaughtering a plucked chicken.

The man sheathed his blade, looked up at them with a handsome face and mild, innocent expression, and waved.

The city defense soldiers relaxed and withdrew back into the tower.

The data readings couldn’t lie. After some calculations, they concluded: the King Insect would assault Golden City in about four hours.

The young city defense soldier smiled bitterly. “I don’t care if I die, but my elderly mother—can she still board a transport ship and leave?”

The veteran comforted him. “The City Lord will protect them.”

…

Outside came the countdown to the King Insect’s arrival, and the Insect Tide swelled accordingly, wave after wave battering the gates.

The middle-aged City Lord sat in his soft chair, holding successive city defense bulletins.

He skimmed them: roughly this many insects had come, that many city defense soldiers wounded.

Some had been scared witless by the bugs, nearly hijacking a transport captain to force a sneaky escape, only caught by patrolling militia.

Incident after incident reduced to numbers.

The middle-aged City Lord’s face was taut. Of course he knew the insects had come—the shouts outside City Lord’s Mansion rose like waves, along with the ceaseless crack of gunfire and cannon blasts.

Shut up, you swine, he thought viciously.

As long as the insects hadn’t breached City Lord’s Mansion, as long as the key weapons could be repaired, he could still save them!

At that thought, he suddenly remembered: where were the Patrol Troops?

Oh, he’d sent them to dismantle bombs in the sewers. Damn it all—once he survived the insects, every last one of those heretics would rot in jail.

He closed the bulletins—out of sight, out of mind.

He shifted his gaze to the young man quietly repairing parts, and a wave of dizziness hit him.

Noble bigshots, one after another, had come to his Golden City.

And clearly, this ‘repairman’ knew the Great Star Pirate Huo Jing… Had the pirate turned over a new leaf? What was this situation?