To be honest, my injuries were superficial.

  With Sir Ronan’s strength, it was impossible for him to truly hurt me—even if I let him. The only reason he managed to land a blow at all was because I allowed it.

  Although my cultivation appeared to be only at the fourth layer, that was merely the mana I practiced according to the techniques of this world. In truth, it was nothing more than a fa?ade—something I cultivated casually, just to blend in.

  My real power came from an entirely different source.

  A technique I had created, refined, and perfected through hundreds of lifetimes.

  Spatial Furnace.

  No side effects.

  No need for breakthroughs.

  No restrictions of age or physique.

  No upper limit to the mana it could contain.

  By all standards, it was the most perfect cultivation method ever created.

  Its only drawback was the terrifying requirement of comprehension—one needed an absurd understanding of space, energy, and structure. For someone like me, however, that was hardly an obstacle.

  Naturally, no one else could practice it. At least, I had never encountered another capable of doing so.

  I had begun cultivating Spatial Furnace from the moment I was born, never stopping—not even once.

  If measured by this world’s standards, my current reserves were equivalent to someone at the fourteenth layer of mana.

  That meant I was at least two layers above the strongest existence in the Eldoria Imperium.

  With such power, I could erase Ronan Blackmere from existence with a snap of my fingers.

  But that would be boring.

  Far more interesting was stripping him of what he cherished most.

  Once he lost everything, I would let him understand the truth—that he had always been nothing more than an ant beneath my feet.

  With Daphne gone, I could finally begin.

  I subtly aggravated my injuries and lay back, waiting patiently for Lyanna’s return.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Five minutes later, she came back carrying a small glass bottle filled with shimmering liquid.

  “Where is Daphne?” she asked, her tone tinged with doubt.

  “I sent her to inform Father that I won’t be attending breakfast today,” I replied with a helpless smile.

  Lyanna’s expression softened immediately. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. My husband has caused you trouble.”

  I waved it off. “It’s fine. Truly.”

  She exhaled in relief and offered me a gentle smile.

  I found myself staring at her without realizing it.

  Lyanna noticed and tilted her head slightly. “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s nothing,” I said honestly. “I was just thinking… Sister Lyanna is truly beautiful.”

  She blinked, then laughed softly. “You’re quite the sweet talker. Do you say that to all the girls?”

  Yet her cheeks had already taken on a faint shade of red.

  “Of course not,” I replied immediately. “You’re the first.”

  Her blush deepened.

  First step, complete.

  Women never disliked being praised—especially by someone younger, sincere, and harmless in their eyes. Lyanna had always seen me as a little brother, which meant her guard was naturally lowered.

  Even the way I addressed her—Sister Lyanna—subtly closed the distance between us.

  I pressed on while the moment was warm.

  “I never understood,” I said quietly. “Why did you marry him? I don’t think Sir Ronan is a good man.”

  Lyanna smiled bitterly. “He is good… just flawed. Lately, his temper has worsened.”

  She hesitated before continuing.

  “Because we couldn’t have a child.”

  Sadness flickered across her face.

  It was her deepest regret.

  For reasons unknown, Lyanna Astrid could not conceive. Over the years, that truth had driven a wedge between her and Ronan, slowly freezing what affection remained.

  “Let’s not talk about that,” she said, shaking her head. “Undress. I need to examine your injuries properly.”

  “Huh?”

  I froze and feigned embarrassment.

  Lyanna blushed as well. “Don’t misunderstand! I’m a doctor. I need to see the injuries clearly.”

  I nodded and complied.

  She turned away out of courtesy—making things even easier.

  I removed everything and sat on the stretcher.

  “By the way,” I said casually, “call me Edric. It feels strange when you call me ‘Your Highness.’”

  She paused. “Very well. But only in private.”

  I smiled. “I’m ready.”

  Lyanna turned back calmly—

  —and froze.

  Her eyes widened, emotions flickering across her face in rapid succession: surprise, confusion, disbelief… and something far more dangerous.

  Her gaze lingered longer than it should have.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked innocently.

  She snapped back to herself, face burning crimson, and turned away again.

  “Why are you naked?!” she shouted.

  “But you told me to undress,” I replied, genuinely confused.

  “I didn’t mean everything!”

  “…Oh.”

  I quickly pulled my underwear back on.

  Lyanna remained turned away, breathing unevenly.

  I even caught her muttering under her breath.

  “So… big…”

  I smiled inwardly but maintained my innocent act. There had never been rumors about me and women—my reputation worked perfectly in my favor.

  Her thoughts were clearly in chaos.

  Yet Lyanna was strong.

  She steadied herself, circulated her mana, and suppressed those stray thoughts.

  Then she examined my injuries closely.

  From this distance, even her professionalism faltered for a moment. Her breath hitched, fingers trembling slightly as she worked.

  Finally, she placed her hand against my back.

  Warmth flowed into my body.

  Healing magic.

  My injuries vanished almost instantly, and I let out a soft groan before I could stop myself.

  Lyanna stiffened.

  “I-It’s done,” she said hastily. “I’ll apply the potion now. That should be enough.”

  She uncorked the bottle, and a sweet fragrance filled the infirmary.

  The liquid touched my skin—

  —and she began to gently spread it across my back.