THE REAL PROTEGE

Then — Ling Li's voice cut through the thick silence, edged with a steel that had seen countless hardships, carrying both disappointment and expectation.

"How can you all break down this way for a mere accident?"

Her words were cold, controlled — every syllable precise, deliberate, piercing.

"I feel like I'm not doing enough as your Master if this is how you react in moments of uncertainty. What have you all been training for?"

A ripple passed through the room, the weight of her words striking each of them at the core.

Four Eyes looked up, his jaw tightening — not in defiance, but in realization. His wife — his formidable, unshaken, always-composed wife — stood before him like an unmovable force. The thought struck him hard — 'I need to learn more from her. I need to be stronger, not just for myself, but for everyone.'

Chatty's fingers curled slightly, his gaze flickering downward, shame creeping in as he realized just how deeply fear had sunk its claws into him.

Shun inhaled sharply and straightened, composure settling into his bones like armor. He was being groomed to be the next national ruler — weakness had no place within him.

Ren pressed her lips into a thin line, swallowing the conflict that roiled in her chest. She understood what her mother meant. But Lily — Lily was different. She was still young. She was afraid.

Ling Li's gaze softened ever so slightly as she turned back to her daughter. The tightness in her chest did not ease, but she knew — there was no logic that could erase the terror consuming Lily, no words that could truly extinguish the suffocating grief choking her.

Yet — this moment mattered.

It was the difference between breaking beneath adversity or rising above it.

Instead of offering empty comfort, Ling Li offered certainty — solid, unwavering certainty.

"Quan Ye is strong, and Shi Min is the best surgeon you could ask for," she said, her voice steady, unshaken, a pillar amid the storm.

"Crying won't heal him. But strength — endurance — your ability to handle pain alongside him, to be here when he wakes up… that will matter."

Lily sniffled, her fingers still trembling—but something in her mother's words cut through the suffocating hopelessness that had swallowed her whole. A reminder that she wasn't helpless.

Ling Li gave Lily a small, firm nod, then met Four Eyes' gaze — silent understanding passing between them.

Then, without another word, Ling Li turned and entered the operating room, her coat sweeping behind her like a battle flag — an unyielding force stepping into the unknown.

Back in the operating room, Shi Min's focus was locked on one thing only - getting Fatty through the surgery without complications. While outside, the tension only grew.

This wasn't just an accident.

This was survival.

"Let's proceed with his broken leg," Shi Min said.

The operating room is cold and sterile, yet alive with quiet urgency. Fatty lies unconscious, his leg unnaturally twisted — a clear fracture. The X-rays confirmed it: a displaced tibia and fibula fracture.

This will require open reduction and internal fixation.

Shi Min took a deep breath, steadied his hands, and began.

"Scalpel,"

The first incision was made and precise, slicing through layers of skin and muscle. Blood pools, but Shi Min's team is ready — suction clears the field. The fractured bone is exposed, jagged edges stark against the bright surgical light.

Carefully, Shi Min realigns the tibia, fitting the pieces together like a puzzle. The fibula follows, its smaller frame needing equal attention. The metal plate and screws are prepared. One by one, Shi Min secured them, reinforcing the bone's structure. Each screw tightens with a satisfying click, locking the fracture into place.

Shi Min paused, inspecting his work. The alignment is perfect. Stability restored. The body will do the rest — healing and rebuilding. Shi Min close the incision, layer by layer, suturing the skin with practiced precision.

Shi Min stepped back, exhaling slowly as he studied the unconscious Quan Ye. The monitors beeped in their rhythmic pattern — steady, reassuring. His pulse was strong. His vitals held firm. He would wake up soon, unaware of the battle waged in this room.

But that was okay.

Some victories didn't need an audience — only a steady hand and an unwavering resolve.

Shi Min turned slightly at the sound of footsteps, watching as Ling Li entered the operating room after scrubbing in. Her presence was sharp and commanding, the tension in the room shifting under the weight of her arrival.

"How is everything? What exactly happened?" she asked, her tone controlled, but the urgency beneath it undeniable.

Pharsa, standing beside Shi Min, stiffened slightly. Guilt weighed heavy in her chest as she replayed the events of the race — the reckless chase between Fatty and Four Eyes, the high-speed battle that had ended in devastation.

She swallowed hard before speaking, her voice tight. "It was the race… The finish line—things went wrong."

Ling Li's gaze sharpened, but she remained silent, listening.

"Fatty and Four Eyes had challenged each other under the scorching heat of the race track, the roar of engines swallowing their surroundings as they pushed their cars to the limit.

Fatty, always eager to prove himself, had been neck-and-neck with Four Eyes in the final stretch—his grip tightening around the wheel, his foot pressing just a fraction harder on the accelerator.

Four Eyes, never one to back down from a challenge, had matched him pace for pace, their cars weaving dangerously close, tires screeching as they fought for dominance.

But just as Fatty veered slightly, attempting to claim the lead, a split-second miscalculation shattered

everything.

His rear tires lost traction, and the car swerved violently. Four Eyes reacted instinctively, braking hard, but Fatty's vehicle spun out of control.

The impact came fast. Brutal.

Metal crunched against the barricades lining the track. Glass exploded in sharp fragments. The force of the collision sent Fatty's car rolling — once, twice — before coming to a brutal halt and catching fire."

The silence afterward had been deafening.

Pharsa swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at her from the inside out. She forced herself to continue, but the weight of responsibility sat heavily on her chest.