The Abandoned Luna's Journey to Power Chapter 117: The Prelude To Triumph

James's POV:

It was 12:45 p.m. on the training field.

The sun burned overhead, so bright it hurt to look at.

I took off my shirt and knelt bare-chested on the stage.

Soldiers surrounded me on all sides. Their looks were mixed—confusion, contempt, and quiet regret.

Evelyn was carried out and placed on a stretcher nearby.

She looked at me. There was relief in her eyes, the kind that comes after surviving a disaster. She never feels sorry for me. Not even a little.

"James Nolan will take Evelyn Russell's punishment," Miguel announced coldly. "30 lashes with the Bonebreaker Whip. Begin."

Lash!

The first whip came down.

"Arghh—!" I clenched my teeth, but the moan still escaped.

It hurt.

It hurt too much.

The whip had metal hooks. Each one tore into my skin, dug into muscle, and ripped back out. The treated silver poison sank into the wounds at once. It felt like fire ants chewing straight into my bones.

Lash!

Lash!

Every strike sent blood spraying. My back quickly became a mess of torn flesh.

I wasn't afraid of pain. I had suffered worse on the battlefield.

What I couldn't endure were the whispers around me.

"Why is General Nolan doing this? For that disaster of a woman?"

"Yeah, she got thousands of our brothers killed, and he still protects her? Can't he tell right from wrong?"

"He even abandoned the Duchess for her back then. What a terrible choice."

"If this is our commander, how are we supposed to survive the battlefield? I'd rather follow the duchess. At least she's fair."

Those words hurt more than the whip. They struck my heart. They crushed what little dignity I had left.

With every lash, I felt the respect I'd built in the army crumble away.

By the time the thirtieth strike ended, I was close to passing out.

Still, I forced myself to lift my head and look at Evelyn in the stretcher.

She wasn't looking at me.

Her eyes were on Miguel, full of hatred.

Worse, she was relieved. Relieved that she wasn't the one being punished.

Suddenly, I felt cold.

Why had I done this?

For love? Or for that weak pride that refused to admit I had chosen the wrong person?

I didn't know anymore.

I only knew this: from today on, I would be nothing but a joke in the army.

Cindy's POV:

The wind of Southreach carried the scent of flowers. It swept across this land of victory.

The army had been marching for a full month.

For that entire month, Prince Adam and I rode at the front.

Our battle flags flew high. In every town we passed, people lined the roads. They threw flowers. They offered wine.

"Look! That's the Duchess of Silverpeak! She defeated the vampires!"

"And Prince Adam too! What a perfect pair!"

Their sincere support felt heavy but warm.

At the very back of the column was a carriage covered in black cloth.

Inside sat James and Evelyn.

I heard Evelyn cursing and complaining the whole way.

Too hot. The road is too rough. The people are too loud.

She even tried to lift the curtain, hoping to accept cheers.

But whenever the crowd saw that dark carriage and realized who was inside—the reckless witch who chased glory and caused disaster—what flew toward it were not flowers. They were rotten vegetables and spoiled eggs.

"Traitor! Murderer!"

"Get out of the kingdom!"

The shouts pierced the wooden walls. They pierced Evelyn's shallow vanity.

I didn't interfere.

This was her path.

I walked the bright road, paved with blood and sacrifice, leading to honor.

They walked the gutter path, built from lies and selfishness, leading to disgrace.

At last, the towering walls of the capital appeared on the horizon.

That was home.

And it was also the place of final judgment.

"Are you afraid?" Prince Adam asked, turning to me.

"No," I said, tightening my grip on the reins. My other hand rested lightly over the portrait at my chest. "My father and brother are with me. 100,000 soldiers stand behind me. I fear nothing."