Fate of the Crowned Heart

Chapter 1

“Kid, are you going to marry my daughter or not?”

As the darkness faded, Allen Hale blinked, taking in the sight of a red-robed man with a long beard and a golden crown, whose face was twisted in anger.

Allen felt utterly bewildered.

Who am I?

Where am I?

What the hell is going on?

A sweet, melodious voice rang in his mind, breaking through the chaos of questions swirling in his head.

“Congratulations, host! You have successfully crossed over to a new world. The current time is the summer of the year 219.”

“Host identity: grandson of General He Jing from the Former Han Dynasty, and adopted son of King Charles Carter of the Western Sesser Kingdom.”

“System activated: welcome to the most powerful selection system in history, it’s your time to live life to the fullest!”

As the system’s voice echoed through his thoughts, Allen started to piece things together.

He had somehow been transported to the era of the Three Kingdoms, and he was now the adopted son of Charles Carter.

In reality, Allen was indeed the grandson of the ancient general He Jing, son of He Xian. Following his father’s untimely death, his stunning mother Ivana Yang caught the eye of the eccentric Charles Carter, and he took her as his wife, subsequently adopting Allen as his own.

Tall and handsome with undeniable talent, Allen was a favorite of his adoptive father, who had summoned him to the royal palace with the intention of marrying him off to his daughter, Ivy Carter.

But Allen had a wild streak. The thought of marrying his adoptive sister felt like a prison sentence, and he was torn between duty and desire.

“Who do you think you are?” Charles fumed, his voice booming. “What’s your answer?”

Just as Allen felt his heart race in panic, the modern host identity kicked in, reiterating the scene.

“Host detected to be facing a forced marriage situation by adoptive father Charles. Initiating selection.”

“Option One: Refuse Charles’s proposal and insult him, earning the achievement 'Master of Self-Destruction.' Reward: a mahogany coffin.”

“Option Two: Agree to Charles’s request, gaining the achievement 'Preferred Son-in-Law of the Carter Family.' Reward: mastery of the Invincible Spear Technique.”

These options couldn’t have been more different. Allen quickly made his decision.

“Father, you must be joking! You know I’ve always respected you the most. If you grant me the chance to marry sister Ivy, my future generations will carry your bloodline. That’s a dream come true for me!”

“Congratulations! You’ve selected Option Two. Reward: mastery of the Invincible Spear Technique granted.”

With that, an unparalleled spear technique flooded his mind, the movements playing out as if he had practiced them a thousand times.

Charles, who had been furious moments ago, was taken aback by Allen’s sudden flattery. While he knew his adopted son was talented and handsome, he also recognized his reputation for being a reckless playboy.

Seeing this respectful side of Allen threw him off balance. Was it possible that he’d scared him? After all, he was the king—his wrath was meant to instill fear.

Satisfied, Charles smiled broadly. “Good. Recently, Raven County has been experiencing heavy rains, and Gabriel Gray is seizing the opportunity for a northern expedition. I’ll be heading to Blackford shortly to oversee the situation. Once we defeat Gabriel and he returns east, I’ll personally oversee your marriage to Ivy.”

At this, an idea sparked in Allen’s mind, and he stepped forward, clasping his hands together. “Father, may I accompany you to Blackford?”

Allen was starting to settle into his new identity under Charles. If this was the life he was living, he wanted to take command of his fate.

He was determined to rewrite his own story because, according to history, Allen’s original life had ended in tragedy.

His reckless behavior had left him sidelined, unnoticed by the successive emperors Philip and Eric Carter. When the young King Charles ascended, his pal Zachary Carter had trusted him and given him power, but that didn’t last long. The notorious ninja Samuel Sinclair had launched a coup, seizing control of the Western Sesser Kingdom.

Under Samuel’s pressure, to save his own skin, Allen had been forced to betray his friend Zachary, partaking in the trial that ended in the annihilation of three clans.

Even then, pity for Allen was scant—he was merely a pawn in Samuel’s game and ultimately met his end alongside Zachary, with both families obliterated.

From then on, power shifted entirely to the Xima family, setting the stage for the future turmoil that would plague the land.

Now, armed with his modern sensibilities and knowledge of history, Allen refused to let himself fall into the same fate.

He would change his reckless ways, earn Charles’s favor, and gain some military power along the way.

Allen knew that 219 AD had its share of chaos. Liu Bei, an important figure, had been appointed to a significant role, while Gabriel Gray was busy attacking Raven County and East Brook. They had even almost moved the puppet Emperor from Blackford to Losley due to the threat.

Though Gabriel would ultimately be defeated, it was clear this battle would cement alliances and reshape power dynamics in the region.

If Allen could shine during this conflict, it would propel him to heights unimaginable, not to mention give him the authority he craved.

In the original timeline, his half-brother, another of Charles's adopted sons, Quentin Quinn—who was also Ivy’s brother—received military accolades for partaking in this very battle. Unlike Allen, Quentin was straightforward, not equipped to contend against Samuel, and could only watch helplessly as his brother met his end.

Allen was confident that if he grasped military power through this battle, he could at least ensure his own survival. While he wasn’t hoping to reign uncontested, having a fighting chance would be a start.

Yet, due to his previous lack of commitment, when Charles heard Allen wanted to accompany him to Blackford, he shook his head.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The battlefield isn’t a game. You only know how to have fun; you lack any real skills or strategy. Even if I take you, you’d just be in the way.”

“There’s no need. Among my adopted brothers, I only plan to bring Quentin Quinn and Patrick Carter along. You’ll stay with Zachary to guard East Brook.”

It was clear to Charles that his practical son Quentin and his martial son Patrick were the right choices for the frontline, while Allen’s reputation left him out in the cold.

The elder Patrick’s promotion to heir couldn’t have gone unnoticed, and Charles was announcing it to their men by sending Philip to guard East Brook.

While this might be good for Philip, it was a crushing blow for Allen.

This favor for Philip came from Samuel, and the more Philip listened to him, the more trouble Allen sensed.

So when he heard that Charles wanted to sequester him at East Brook with Philip and Samuel while sending Quentin and Patrick to battle, he stood up, indignation bubbling within him.

“Father, you don’t understand me at all! Who says I lack ability in the arts of war and peace?”

“Today, I’ll show you that I’m just as good at writing laws as I am at wielding a sword!”

Chapter 2

Charles Carter regarded Eleanor Hale with skepticism, not believing a word from his wayward ward. His thoughts settled on the nature of the boy—what kind of trouble had he gotten into this time, and who had he learned to spout such bravado from?

Eleanor, sensing her foster father’s disbelief, turned away to scan the room. Her eyes landed on a long gun displayed on a nearby rack. With a swift motion, she strode over and seized it, the weight of the weapon grounding her.

“Eleanor, what do you think you’re doing? Don’t be foolish!” Charles exclaimed, rising from his chair, alarm etched across his face.

She paused, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “Father, you’ve got it all wrong! I just wanted to show you what I can do.”

With that, Eleanor launched into a series of moves with the gun, her body recalling the techniques embedded in her mind from the training system she’d absorbed.

The gun whirled in her hands like a dancer twirling on stage, the power manifesting in each fluid motion.

Swipe! Thwack!

Known as the Kingslayer Technique, it was renowned for its effectiveness during the chaotic reign of Harrison Foster. Even a simple scholar could see the legacy of strength in each move.

“Feel the might that topples mountains!”

“See how the dragon flies through the heavens!”

“Watch as it cleaves through armies!”

“Witness the earth tremble!”

Eleanor poured her energy into the display, using every ounce of skill she could muster. Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment, she sheathed the gun back on the rack, panting heavily.

Days of indulgence and debauchery had drained her body before she even stepped into training mode. Even now, after her revival, the experience wore her out more than she cared to admit.

She vowed to herself that she would train hard—because no amount of supernatural training could substitute for a weak body that couldn't keep up.

After a lengthy pause, Charles’s face morphed into one of astonishment.

“Eleanor, where did you learn such extraordinary techniques?”

A brief silence hung in the air before he continued, “It’s been centuries since Harrison Foster passed, and his techniques have been lost.”

Though Eleanor couldn’t unleash the Kingslayer Technique’s full potential due to her current physical state, Charles's discerning gaze sensed that aside from a few elite captains, most of the military leadership would stand no chance against her.

“Father, I developed this technique all by myself through hard work and perseverance.”

She couldn’t confess where it really came from; elevating her own status and protecting her true identity was essential.

Hearing her claim, Charles gasped, surprised that a boy he thought was a frivolous was hiding such depth.

With Eleanor’s growing prowess, he couldn’t help but wonder—would his own blood be able to stand against this adopted warrior a century hence?

Just then, Eleanor broke his reverie. “Father, do you think I’m worthy enough now to fight alongside you on the battlefield?”

Together, they remained in silence for a moment until Charles finally spoke. “I suppose you’re good enough for now… But tell me, you speak of being equipped in both knowledge and skill. About strategy—what have you observed regarding Gabriel Gray and his ten thousand Greenfield troops marching north? What shall we do?”

Eleanor’s eyes lit up, her mind racing as she replied, “That’s easy! Gabriel fancies himself the fiercest warrior alive. But his decision to march north isn’t as bold as it seems. He’s riding off the coattails of Liam Lewis's recent victories and leveraging the Ravensford rainy season, which gives his navy the upper hand.”

“Regardless of how mighty Gabriel’s forces seem, if we hold strong for just a little while longer, we can defeat him once the rainy season ends with ease.”

“But of course, a mere retreat isn’t enough. He’s breached our Kingdom of Wexford’s land; he needs to be made an example of. We must show the world that anyone who dares to invade us will meet their demise.”

“Father,” she continued eagerly, “why not send a letter to Quincy Sullivan in Eastden? He could take this opportunity to strike at Southshire and Riverford while Gabriel is preoccupied.”

“My sources tell me that the rotund bandit, Liam, not only failed to return Southshire to Eastden but also declined to cede the land leading to Jiaozhou. There’s a history of tensions between them—Quincy’s forces almost clashed with Liam’s earlier this year before they found some diplomatic way to calm the situation.”

“Right now, their alliance is nothing but a façade. Quincy has held back his actions against Gabriel for fear of invoking your wrath against him in retribution for Redcliff. If you send him a letter, he’ll see this as his opportunity to take back Riverford in a heartbeat.”

Eleanor rattled off strategies she had gathered from the annals of history, her enthusiasm palpable as Charles listened, wide-eyed.

“Oh my,” he muttered, flabbergasted. “Such clarity in your assessment! Did my once-dull ward conjure all of this from thin air?”

Seeing the impact her words had on Charles, a swell of pride rose within Eleanor, albeit she maintained a facade of modesty. “So, Father, what do you think of my strategy?”

Charles nodded, visibly impressed. “Remarkable! I never would have imagined you held such talents. I’m truly proud to have a son like you.”

“Well then, you’re coming with me to the Westhaven front to tackle Gabriel together.”

“Thank you, Father!”

With a mixture of joy and elation, Eleanor retreated from the main hall, her thoughts buzzing with the impending battle.

Once she had left, Charles’s tone shifted, revealing a somber undertone. “Xavier Jameson, you may step forward.”

A sallow-faced figure with unusual features emerged from the shadows, a man known as the prophet of strategy and cunning: Xavier Jameson.

As he approached, he let out a heavy sigh. “Your Majesty, I’ve heard the rumors about Eleanor indulging in vice and neglecting his duties. Yet, today’s exhibition tells a different story.”

“Forget the prior display of prowess for a moment—the strategic insights he shared just now mirror precisely what I concluded earlier.”

“A young man with such balance of intellect and martial skill, when nurtured properly, could become the pillar of our Kingdom.”

Indeed, Eleanor’s plans mirrored those Xavier had just discussed with Charles.

At hearing such praise, Charles gripped his sword tightly, the weight of his thoughts sinking in. “But he’s merely a boy of another lineage. With such talent, I can’t help but wonder whether it brings more good or harm.”

Meanwhile, outside Regal Hall, Eleanor was making her way home when a scathing voice suddenly broke through the air.

“Well, well, isn’t that the much-loathed grandson of He Jin, the cause of all this chaos? Riding the coattails of his mother’s beauty to survive. Have you stirred up more trouble that our dear father had to scold you for?”

Chapter 3

Eleanor Hale felt the heat of mockery radiate from across the courtyard. She turned her gaze towards the source of the derision, landing on two young men clad in extravagant apparel, flanked by a few lackeys who were eagerly anticipating some form of entertainment. Their disdainful looks only deepened her sense of isolation.

Philip Carter stood at the forefront, a smirk plastered across his face, with his loyal sidekick, Zachary Carter, ever ready to back him up. Eleanor had just arrived in this new world, and it was already clear that Philip harbored a strong distaste for her. Instead of rising to the bait, she decided to walk away and maintain her dignity.

“Hey! Think you can just blow me off? All right, Diana York, stop her! Show her that this palace isn’t a playground for some outsider!” Philip commanded, his voice dripping with condescension.

“On it!” Zachary replied, rolling up his sleeves like a brash fighter eager for a bout.

Eleanor's brow furrowed at the interruption. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? Oh, just a little lesson for you. It’s high time you learned how to show respect around here,” Zachary sneered, advancing with a fist raised.

She instinctively stepped back, fury boiling within her. At first, Eleanor thought it wise to brush off this spectacle. But the audacity of these two, especially Zachary’s aggressive stance, was more than she could overlook. After all, she was Charles Carter's adopted child, standing on equal ground with Zachary. She wasn’t about to let him swing his fists around without consequence.

A jarring chime echoed in her mind, cutting through her emotional turmoil.

【Alert. The system has detected Philip Carter’s provocation. Please choose an action.】

**Choice one:** Endure Zachary Carter’s blows like a coward, apologize to Philip Carter, and earn the ‘Best Coward’ achievement, rewarded with a longevity elixir.

**Choice two:** Grab the broom lying nearby and strike back at Zachary Carter, then insult Philip Carter, earning the title 'Iron-Blooded Man' with mastery of the Wraith Circle Formation.

Without hesitation, Eleanor picked the second option. Her eyes darted to the ground where an old broom lay abandoned, probably dropped by one of the servants.

She quickly concluded that going toe-to-toe with Zachary in a physical fight would be futile unless she turned the broom into her weapon of choice. With a swift roll, she snatched up the broom as if it were a spear, feeling a surge of confidence.

【Success! You have mastered the Wraith Circle Formation.】

A cascade of magical symbols flooded her mind—instinctively, she felt as though she'd practiced this technique countless times before. Yet she knew that even powerful formations required skilled execution from their wielder.

Philip Carter watched her with amused contempt. “Look at this. An adoptive son thinks he can wield a broom like a sword. How hilariously pathetic.”

“Diana York, give him another broom! Let’s teach this outsider a lesson. He needs to know that someone like him should be at our feet!” Philip laughed, his eyes gleaming with malice.

With his arms swinging low and an underhand grin, Zachary stepped closer. “Brave enough to swing that broom? Come on! I’ll let you hit me first!”

A blend of rage and the sheer ridiculousness of his dare lit a fire in Eleanor. Anger surged through her as she propelled herself forward using all her strength to crash the broomhead against Zachary.

With the force of a dragon strike, the broom glided through the air, catching Zachary by surprise. His arms shot up in a futile defense, but the impact sent him tumbling backward, rolling away as if he had collided with a freight train.

“Diana York!” Philip’s voice dripped panic as he rushed to assess Zachary’s condition.

Upon checking, he breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed Zachary was merely bruised but safe. However, a dark shadow settled over his face as he turned toward Eleanor. “You bastard! You actually think you can hit my people? Get him! Make him pay!”

A wave of fear crashed over Eleanor as a flock of servants brandished clubs and approached menacingly. Just moments ago, she had felt empowered. Now, exhausted from her last display of resistance, she sensed that taking on this mob was no longer an option.

“Stop!” A commanding voice rang out.

Out of the chaos emerged Quentin Quinn, Charles Carter’s adoptive son, alongside his sister, Evelyn Carter—a striking girl with a fierce spirit that could match her beauty. They hurriedly approached through the crowd.

Evelyn, having learned of Eleanor’s troubles, was quick to intervene. “How dare you! Eleanor Hale is under my father’s protection as his adopted son. You dare lay hands on him?”

The servants hesitated, glancing nervously between Philip and their princess.

Philip’s icy demeanor thawed slightly. “Quentin, Evelyn! What brings you here? I was merely teaching Eleanor a little respect before she embarrasses herself further.”

Evelyn, understanding her familial obligation yet seeing through his thinly veiled excuses, countered, “We will handle our own matters, thank you. This doesn’t involve you.”

Evelyn, sensing Eleanor’s fatigue, extended her arm to assist her. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

But Eleanor didn’t budge, her body sinking with exhaustion. “I… I can’t. I don’t have the strength.”

Evelyn’s face softened as she replied, “Then let me help you.” As she reached for Eleanor, the latter sagged against her, succumbing to fatigue.

Surrounded by a sweet floral scent, a blush crept onto Evelyn's cheeks, but she brushed it off, reminding herself that one day, Eleanor would be her partner.

But the tension didn’t dissipate; Philip’s orders cut through the air once more. “Stop her! You can’t let her take him away!”

“Brother, what do you mean?” Evelyn asked, confused.

Philip’s expression darkened. “Evelyn, you don’t understand. Eleanor just hurt Zachary. Everyone knows he’s my loyal subordinate.” His tone grew grim. “For the sake of retribution, I cannot allow this to pass without consequences. Someone must pay—the cost of a broken trust means I must have Eleanor’s leg broken today.”

Chapter 4

Evelyn Carter couldn't help but gasp at her brother Philip's venomous words.

“Zihuan, isn’t it a bit much for you to go this far with Eleanor Hale? You and he share the same blood.”

“Pfft! Who’s even saying he’s family?” Philip retorted, his contempt dripping from every syllable. “He hurt Diana York; he needs to pay the price. You lot, what are you waiting for? Go break that little punk's legs!”

The servants, visibly intimidated, raised their clubs in unison, moving with the desperation of people who knew the cost of defiance.

“Philip, you really are cocky these days,” came a voice, dark and chilling.

At the sound of that familiar tone, Philip felt a shiver run down his spine. He turned, eyes wide, and saw his father, King Charles Carter, approaching.

With a soft thud, Philip dropped to his knees, his earlier bravado drained away. “Father, I …”

In the grand halls of Eastbrook, Philip could instill fear in nearly anyone—but not in his father. One word from Charles could tip the balance of his fortunes, sealing his fate.

Charles had accepted Philip as his heir, but seeing him acting so brazenly made him bristle. “Philip, you’ve got some nerve. No matter what Eleanor did, he is your brother, and how dare you try to harm him?”

Philip trembled under his father’s gaze. “Father … I didn’t mean to cause trouble. It’s just that Eleanor Hale hurt Diana York, so I had to—”

“Eleanor!” Charles interjected sharply, turning to Elaine Hale. “Is it true? Did you hurt Diana?”

Philip shot Eleanor a look filled with menace, silently conveying the consequences of defiance. But Eleanor, having already learned that Philip would always target him, stood his ground. “Yes, Father, I did hurt Diana. But he provoked me first. I was only defending myself.”

Philip’s face twisted in rage, but he attempted to mask it with a veneer of reason. “Even so, Father, his actions were excessive. Look at Diana! He should be thrown in the dungeon! That should be the punishment!”

As if on cue, Zachary Carter, who had been nursing his faux injuries on the floor, suddenly sprang to life. “Oww! I’m dying here, really! It hurts so much!”

Eleanor felt a surge of indignation. “This isn't about pity for you, Zachary! You’re a joke, and if anyone’s going to suffer, it shouldn’t be me.”

Charles Carter, a powerful figure of the age, always balanced between authority and wisdom. He shook his head. “No, I’ve made up my mind. Eleanor will come with me to Blackford’s front lines. We need to defend against Gabriel Gray’s assault.”

Philip’s eyes flashed with anxiety. The idea of Eleanor gaining glory in battle was unbearable.

“Father, Eleanor has never even set foot in a battlefield. Gabriel Gray leading the Greenfield Militia is a serious threat! Are you really willing to take that risk?”

Now it was Eleanor’s turn to bristle. Standing was one thing; he wanted action.

“You dare to question my experience?” he shot back. “Let’s put this to the test! I challenge you, Zachary. Tomorrow, at the training grounds, we’ll each command five thousand troops. We’ll see who really knows how to strategize.”

The room fell silent.

Charles chuckled, his laughter booming off the walls. “Now we’re talking! A challenge! Zachary, do you accept? Will you face Eleanor tomorrow?”

Zachary puffed out his chest. “What’s there to fear? Shall we convene at the training grounds for a showdown? I’ll show you the real deal.”

Charles beamed, clearly entertained by his sons’ bravado. “I cannot wait for the fireworks! You’ll go head-to-head, and may the best strategist win.”

Eleanor’s heart raced. Somehow, this unexpected turn of events felt like fate. He had just unlocked a new formation technique—something that could turn the tide for him.

The pieces were all in place. Tomorrow, Eleanor would fight for more than just a place in the battlefield; he would fight for his very dignity. And at that moment, he knew he was ready.

Chapter 5

That night at Philip Carter's estate.

"Samuel Sinclair reporting in, Your Grace. I hope you have a purpose for summoning me."

A hawk-eyed man with a sharp demeanor bowed respectfully before Philip Carter. Samuel Sinclair, as he was known, had played a vital role in Philip's rise to his current station.

Seeing Samuel, Philip's excitement was palpable, almost childlike. He strode forward and clasped Samuel’s hands. "Mr. Sinclair, you’ve finally arrived! Please, take a seat."

As Samuel settled into a chair, Zachary Carter served them both tea, the warm aroma filling the air.

"Thank you, General Diana York," Samuel said, taking a sip before glancing back, curiosity etched on his face. "Evelyn, you called for me. Now, what is it you need?"

"Mr. Sinclair, I need your expertise," Philip began, launching into the events of the day.

He explained how Zachary had sought out Eleanor Hale on his behalf, despite his usual disdain for the man. Small potatoes, Philip had thought. But then a twist: Zachary provoked Eleanor into a fight and ended up getting hammered. Now Charles Carter was considering taking Eleanor to the front lines against Gabriel Gray.

"What the hell?" Samuel’s brow furrowed. "Eleanor Hale—just a spoiled brat—where is he getting this courage and skill?"

Philip's expression turned grim. "I suspect he’s been hiding his true abilities, but his motives are still unclear..."

Samuel mulled it over, his mind racing. "He can’t possibly be tied to Jason Zimmerman, can he?"

Among Charles's sons, the only real competitor to Philip was Patrick Carter, especially after kicking Zachary to the curb.

"That’s unlikely. Jason and Eleanor aren’t even on speaking terms." Philip sighed, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. "Regardless, whether he’s involved or not, I can’t stand him. We have to nip this in the bud."

"Tomorrow, he faces off against Diana," Zachary chimed in, expectant. As much as he’d dismissed Samuel in the past, he knew the man had a sharp strategic mind.

Hearing Philip’s question, Samuel paused, then pulled a scroll from his jacket, passing it to Zachary. "Have General Diana follow these instructions, and even if Eleanor calls upon gods, he won't get through."

"Thank you, Mr. Sinclair!" Zachary exclaimed, a glimmer of anticipation lighting up his face as he studied the scroll. He couldn’t wait to crush Eleanor.

The next day at the Tournament Grounds.

Eleanor Hale entered, wielding the Serpent’s Fang spear, while Zachary, clad in armor, strutted in behind him.

The bleachers were packed, with the whole town buzzing with excitement over the impending duel. Most of the townsfolk, apart from a few, like Quentin Quinn and Evelyn Carter, were rooting for Zachary.

“Go, General Diana!” they yelled.

“Let’s bet on how long it’ll take for him to wipe the floor with that punk, Eleanor Hale!”

“I’ll wager an hour.”

“Pfft, too generous! I bet fifteen minutes."

Zachary soaked in the cheers, turning to Eleanor with a sneer. "Hey, Hale! You better surrender now. If you don't, I’m gonna embarrass you in front of Evelyn."

As if losing would somehow save him face. The logic was baffling.

Eleanor didn’t bother to engage in banter; he simply brandished his spear, precise and imposing.

With his mastery of the spear technique on full display, he struck a fearsome image. Each strike caught the attention of both Zachary and his horse, sending them reeling back.

Zachary blinked in disbelief. "What the hell? Where did he get that kind of weapon?"

Steadying himself, he finally found his voice. "You thought I’d show up just to duel? Nah, I’m here to show you how to properly command an army."

With that, Zachary waved a flag, and his five thousand troops began to shuffle into formation, a mesmerizing spectacle.

"Attack! Fight!" The soldiers roared, high on adrenaline, the energy palpable.

Watching from the dais, Charles Carter nodded thoughtfully at the sight of Zachary’s formation, turning to his advisor, Xavier Jameson.

"Are you familiar with that formation?" he asked.

Xavier nodded earnestly. "That there is the Serpent's Dance Formation. It’s a powerful setup, resembling nine swimming dragons."

“Interesting,” Charles mused. “I thought that formation was lost to history. I didn’t know Diana could pull this off.”

Relief washed over Philip; Charles hadn’t unraveled his deception. Satisfied, he chuckled. "With such talent, the royal line has a promising future."

As Charles smiled in approval, the tension in Philip eased. The other generals, Mason Turner and Holden Carter, chimed in with praise for Charles.

In the arena, Zachary was thrilled. Turning to Eleanor, he shot a challenge. "Hey, Hale! You still hanging around? Time to show you what a real army looks like."

Eleanor smirked, raising his flag. "Is that all you’ve got? Your little setup is cute, but trust me; you’re about to see what a real battle formation looks like."

As he commanded his troops, his formation appeared haphazard and unimpressive, just a loose line of soldiers.

Laughter erupted from the crowd, mocking Eleanor’s apparent lack of strategy. "What a joke. Diana could wipe the floor with that pathetic excuse for a formation."

Zachary joined in the jeering. "Is this a joke? Step it up, Hale!"

But instead of retreating, Eleanor had his troops deliberately spread out, welcoming Zachary and his forces right into the heart of what looked like chaos.

Gasps filled the arena, an electric buzz ran through the spectators. What was he doing? Had he lost his mind?

There are limited chapters to put here, click the button below to continue reading "Fate of the Crowned Heart"

(It will automatically jump to the book when you open the app).

❤️Click to read more exciting content❤️