Littlefinger… After returning to his mansion, Lynn's gaze also turned cold.
It was time to teach Littlefinger a lesson.
This rat in the gutter truly harbored malicious intentions.
Now he even dared to lay hands on him.
Did he think that after losing all his money, he could remain aloof and continue to stir up trouble in the shadows?
The ladder is chaos.
Then I will make your world completely chaotic!
Lynn closed his eyes, and his mental power instantly enveloped Littlefinger's current hiding place, where he was barely surviving… King's Landing, Silk Street.
Petyr Baelish sat alone in his study on the third floor.
This was once the starting point from which he overlooked King's Landing and manipulated people's hearts.
Now, only desolation and the bitter taste of failure remained in the room.
He lost.
Lost again!
He couldn't understand.
Why his carefully laid chess game had collapsed step by step.
He just wanted to provoke a war between the lion and the wolf, and profit from it, that was all!
But now, the war hadn't started, and he himself had become the biggest loser.
The rumors he spread also became weak and powerless.
Robert, that fool, actually tried to clear Cersei's name with such a ridiculous method as manipulating a trial by combat!
To ensure Robert would win the trial by combat, he even invited a Faceless Man, all to ensure Cersei's death!
But Lynn once again disrupted his plans!
Petyr picked up his wine glass, but the liquid within could not extinguish the anxiety and resentment in his heart.
Suddenly!
An indescribable, icy will, without warning, pierced into his brain!
Petyr's body trembled uncontrollably.
It was his hand, moving on its own!
His right hand slowly put down the wine glass.
His legs took stiff steps, one by one, walking towards the window.
His body no longer belonged to him.
His hand pushed open the window in front of him.
The evening breeze blew in, carrying the clamor of the street below.
Petyr's leg lifted, stepping onto the windowsill.
A few drunken Guards were patrolling on the street, and a hawker not far away was still peddling stale wheatcakes.
The world was so vibrant.
Lynn could feel that his actions had already aroused resistance in Petyr's subconscious.
Lynn increased his mental intensity, which made Petyr leap.
Petyr's body lost its support, and the sensation of weightlessness instantly enveloped him.
One second before he hit the ground, Lynn released his mind.
Petyr suddenly woke up.
But he was horrified to find the wind whistling in his ears, and the world spinning rapidly before his eyes.
It's over.
This was his last thought.
Bang—!
A dull thud.
He did not feel the anticipated searing pain of his head splitting open.
His legs crashed heavily onto a cart carrying hay.
Immediately after, an indescribable sharp pain exploded from his spine, instantly spreading throughout his entire body!
"Ah—!"
Control of his body returned.
That heart-wrenching scream finally broke free from the confines of his throat.
He wanted to struggle, to get up.
But he was horrified to find that his lower body had completely lost all sensation.
He looked down, and his legs were twisted at an unnatural angle, like two broken wooden sticks.
He didn't die.
But he wished he had died.
Petyr Baelish, once the Master of Coin, the most cunning player in King's Landing, was now like a wild dog with a broken spine.
Paralyzed on a dirty hay cart, he let out a desperate wail.
Lynn slowly opened his eyes, his face a sickly pale.
Petyr's will was far from that strong, at least much easier to manipulate than Jaime's.
But controlling an enemy to commit suicide clearly aroused resistance in Petyr's subconscious.
This also allowed Lynn to figure out the rules of skinchanging.
Controlling a person's actions would not cause resistance.
Like controlling Daenerys, Jaime.
Controlling a person's indirect death also would not cause resistance.
For example, the assassin he controlled.
But controlling a person to directly perform life-threatening actions would definitely encounter resistance, and might even cause his skinchanging ability to fail, or even result in severe injury!
However, Lynn had to teach this smelly rat a lesson.
Revenge must be exacted on the spot!
...After a night of recovery.
Lynn was leaving King's Landing.
This news made the atmosphere in the mansion a bit subtle.
Sansa looked at the ledger, but her mind was elsewhere.
The "soap empire" they had built together had just begun and needed management, but now Lynn was leaving.
This made her wonder if she could live up to Lynn's trust.
She didn't want to mess things up.
She was afraid Lynn would be disappointed in her.
Arya, on the other hand, was excitedly practicing her swordplay in the courtyard.
The boring ledgers, after the initial novelty, were quickly forgotten by her.
She still preferred wielding weapons.
As for those boring ledgers, Sansa and the steward were now handling them together.
In the study, Lynn gathered three people together.
Robb, the steward, Sansa, and Arya.
"After I leave, Sansa, you will be fully responsible for all matters of the mansion; Robb will assist you."
Lynn's gaze fell on the steward.
Robb bowed respectfully.
Seeing Robb agree, Lynn turned his attention back to Sansa.
"You will continue to lead the soap business."
"Whatever spices you need, whatever packaging you need, just tell Robb directly, and he will handle it."
"Remember, our goal is to make the ladies of King's Landing unable to live without it."
Sansa nodded solemnly.
"Arya," Lynn finally looked at his little wildcat.
"Your task is to supervise the newly recruited Guards."
"While I'm away, the safety of the mansion is entrusted to you."
"If you encounter any problems you can't solve, go to your father."
"The Gold Cloaks are enough to solve most problems."
"If your father can't solve it either, then go to Varys."
"He is temporarily trustworthy."
"No problem, I remember!" Arya thumped her chest, assuring him.
After arranging everything, Lynn took out a blank parchment from his Pregnant and handed it to Robb, the steward.
"This is…"
Robb took it in confusion.
"From now on, every evening, you will write down on this paper the matters in the mansion that require my decision."
Lynn's voice was calm.
"The next morning, my instructions will appear on it."
Robb's pupils suddenly constricted.
He looked at the parchment in his hand, then at Lynn, his mouth opened, but he couldn't utter a single word.
This… what kind of divine magic was this?
Sansa and Arya also curiously crowded over.
They only saw that it was an ordinary parchment, nothing extraordinary.
But they also knew that Lynn never did anything meaningless.
"My Lord… You…"
Robb's voice trembled, as if he were holding a sacred relic.
Lynn didn't explain, just patted his shoulder.
"Remember, the existence of this paper, besides the three of you, no fourth person must know."
"Yes, My Lord!"
Robb only felt a fervent reverence surge from the bottom of his heart.
Such a method was truly unheard of… The departing entourage was not large.
Lynn, Princess Myrcella, and a small squad of Guards.
Lynn was now considered a master unparalleled in the world, and taking the small roads could completely ensure safety.
As for the other Guards, leaving them in King's Landing to help Ned control the Gold Cloaks was the best choice.
What was most striking was the magnificent black warhorse in front of Lynn.
Storm.
It was entirely black, without a single stray hair, with powerful hooves, and a head taller than an ordinary warhorse.
And at this moment, a small figure sat on Storm's saddle.
Princess Myrcella.
She had shed her luxurious gown and was indistinguishable from an ordinary little girl.
Her hands gripped the saddle tightly, looking a bit uneasy at the moment.
This was her first time leaving King's Landing, her first long journey.
And it was also her first time being so close to a strange man.
Lynn gently tugged the reins from behind, and Storm let out a neigh, slowly moving forward.
Myrcella's body uncontrollably leaned back, her entire back pressing against Lynn's broad, firm chest.
The little princess's cheeks instantly turned as red as a ripe apple.
She could feel the warm body heat emanating from behind her, and she could smell Lynn's clean scent, a mixture of leather and faint soap.
Her heart pounded uncontrollably, like a little deer trapped in a cage.
Lynn noticed the abnormality of the little person in his arms.
But his gaze passed over the procession ahead, looking towards the Red Keep.
At the window of the highest tower, a golden figure flashed past.
It was Cersei.
Lynn knew she was watching… The procession traveled north, bidding farewell to the prosperity and squalor of King's Landing, and entering the vast Riverlands.
The wind began to grow colder.
Myrcella was initially very excited, curious about everything along the way.
But the monotony of the long journey quickly wore away her novelty.
Especially after a full day of bouncing on horseback, her small body was already struggling.
"Are you uncomfortable?"
Lynn's voice came from above her head.
Myrcella shook her head, not wanting him to think she was delicate.
Lynn, however, reined in his horse.
He took out a thick fur pad from his saddlebag and placed it on the saddle.
Then, he unfastened his black cloak and completely wrapped Myrcella's small body from behind.
Only after doing all this did he remount.
Myrcella was completely enveloped in the warm fur and cloak, with only her small head peeking out.
Behind her was Lynn's firm chest, shielding her from all the cold wind coming from behind.
A sense of security she had never experienced before enveloped her.
She secretly looked back, only able to see Lynn's clearly defined jawline.
"Thank you, Ser Lynn," her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
"Sleep if you're tired."
Lynn's voice was very flat.
Myrcella, however, felt that this was more reassuring than any lullaby she had ever heard.
She leaned against Lynn's broad embrace, inhaling the scent that put her at ease, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and soon she drifted into slumber.
In her dream, there was no longer the coldness of the Red Keep.
No longer her mother's desperate gaze.
Only a warm darkness and a pair of strong arms.
A month passed quickly during the monotonous journey, and Lynn also exercised his physique in his spare time… When the procession passed through the Neck and entered the lands of the North, the air already carried a familiar chill.
"Winterfell!"
Myrcella was the first to poke her head out, excitedly shouting as she pointed at the gray silhouette on the distant horizon.
Just then.
A piercing roar, splitting the clouds and cracking stones, came from above Winterfell!
Everyone subconsciously looked up.
Only to see a giant shadow, obscuring the afternoon sun, circling above the castle!
"What… what is that?!"
Myrcella's voice trembled.
It was a dragon!
A dragon over ten meters long, with a wingspan that blotted out the sky!
Its scales shimmered with an eerie glacial blue in the sunlight.
Each beat of its massive wings stirred up a gust of wind, making the flags on the ground snap and flap!
Myrcella's small mouth formed an "O," and her emerald green eyes were filled with world-shattering awe!
She had grown up hearing the legends of House Targaryen and dragons.
But how could legends become reality?
And, this dragon… it had three heads!
That's right! Three!
One in the middle, and two slightly smaller ones on either side, like three giant pythons intertwined!
At this moment, these three heads were vying with each other.
The left head seemed to want to fly east, while the right head stubbornly insisted on going west.
The largest head in the middle, caught between them, looked very impatient and turned to spray a small jet of flame at the left head.
The left head, singed, let out a yelp and, unwilling to be outdone, also turned to bite the middle head.
The right head, seeing a fight break out, joined the fray on the principle of not letting a good show go to waste.
It roared at the two wrestling heads, as if cheering them on.
The three massive dragon heads, like three brawling little rascals, twisted into a knot in the sky, creating a rather comical scene.
"Winter…"
Lynn looked at the living treasure in the sky, a fatherly, contented smile on his face.
It seemed Robb had fed it well.
It had grown even larger during this month of travel.
He wondered what kind of pained expression Robb would have when he saw it again.
Presumably, keeping it in Winterfell was also Robb's decision.
After all, a dragon of such immense size couldn't be hidden.
Lynn stretched out his hand and let out a loud whistle towards the sky.
The three dragon heads, which had been fighting fiercely in the sky, suddenly paused.
They simultaneously turned their heads, and six vertical golden pupils, like molten lava, locked onto the tiny figure on the ground in unison.
The next second.
A dragon roar, filled with grievance, longing, and endless joy, resounded throughout the entire Northern sky.
Offer is going on
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