Lynn's consciousness sank in a golden halo, then abruptly resurfaced.
The air around him was no longer the crisp, pine-and-ice-laden chill of the North.
Instead, it was a warm fragrance woven from precious spices, fine wine, and the warm skin of a woman.
He "saw" a pair of well-maintained, clearly articulated hands holding a golden goblet inlaid with rubies.
Inside the cup, red liquid gently swayed.
"Jaime? I'm talking to you... Can you please not zone out?"
A lazy and seductive voice sounded in his ear, carrying a hint of a playful complaint.
Lynn's "gaze" slowly moved.
A stunningly beautiful face came into view.
Cersei Lannister.
The woman whose beauty reigned supreme in the Seven Kingdoms.
She wore only a silk nightgown as thin as a cicada's wing, her waterfall of golden hair casually draped over her shoulders.
A few strands of hair playfully fell upon the breathtaking whiteness of her chest, rising and falling slightly with her breathing.
This was King's Landing, the Red Keep, Jaime Lannister's bedroom.
And he, Lynn.
Was currently controlling Jaime's body.
His mental strength, reaching 25 points, made his Warg ability, despite being only introductory, far more potent than Lynn had imagined.
He could not only share senses but even temporarily control the other person's body when their mental defenses were most relaxed, leading to the current situation.
"Nothing, sister."
Lynn tried to imitate Jaime's tone, his voice carrying Jaime's usual nonchalance.
Lynn drained the wine in the goblet.
"Just wondering if those fools in the North are still shivering in the ice and snow right now."
Lynn put down the goblet, stretched out his hand, and pulled Cersei into his embrace.
The sensation of her smooth, tender skin was clearly transmitted to Lynn's consciousness through the mental link.
Lynn's heart remained undisturbed, without any trace of guilt.
Anyway, they were his enemies, so he might as well... make friends.
He was here not to steal a kiss, but more to gather information.
Cersei leaned obediently into Lynn's embrace, her pale arms circling his neck, her breath like orchids.
"Don't mention those barbarians."
"Just thinking about living under the same roof as that Stark makes me uncomfortable all over."
"He's like a stinking, stubborn rock, with his head full of his ridiculous honor."
Cersei's tone was full of disdain.
"However, he has been quite well-behaved recently."
Here it comes.
Lynn's mind instantly focused.
"Well-behaved?"
Lynn raised an eyebrow, one hand beginning to wander naughtily beneath Cersei's nightgown.
"Isn't he still investigating Jon Arryn's death?"
"Investigating? Hmph."
Cersei let out a sneer, her body trembling slightly from Lynn's movements.
"His so-called investigation is just him burrowing into those broken down blacksmith shops and brothels every day, dealing with a bunch of lowlifes."
"Asking stupid questions that no one understands."
"That fool Robert made him Hand, but he's turned the Small Council into a decoration, disappearing all day."
"Baelish and the others are practically making a joke out of this bumpkin from the North."
A triumphant expression, as if a scheme had succeeded, appeared on Cersei's face.
"It seems he's no match for us at all."
"Just a stupid Northern brute who only knows how to use brute force, completely unable to adapt to the rules of King's Landing."
"We really overestimated him before."
Lynn also smiled at her words.
His hand had already delved deeper, eliciting a series of suppressed moans from Cersei.
"So, we can rest easy?"
"Of course."
Cersei's breathing quickened.
"Once he finds nothing, and Robert is completely disappointed in him, we can kick him out of King's Landing like trash."
"Then, the position of Hand will naturally return to the hands of us Lannisters."
"Father will be very pleased."
Lynn's breathing also grew heavy.
Very good, Ned.
You've done very well.
You really listened to me and disguised yourself as the person they most wanted to see.
A foolish, incompetent, and politically disengaged Northern brute.
This completely put Lynn at ease.
As long as Cersei and the others relaxed their guard, as long as Ned could buy enough time.
Then, the game in King's Landing, once he, Lynn, arrived, could proceed as planned.
The information was in hand.
Lynn's consciousness intended to slowly withdraw.
But seeing Cersei's exquisite face etched with pain, Lynn's heart stirred slightly.
Cersei was the acknowledged beauty of the Seven Kingdoms.
It would be a pity to miss such an opportunity.
He might as well have a free ride then.
A thief never leaves empty-handed... (Don't worry, I won't be responsible for Cersei.)
A long while passed.
However, just as Lynn's consciousness was about to detach.
An unconscious thought from Jaime flashed through Lynn's mind like lightning.
It was a dusty memory.
A young Jaime Lannister, not yet a Kingsguard.
He stood on the training ground of Casterly Rock, holding two identical Single Handed Swords.
Opposite him stood a man built like an iron tower, with a stern face.
Barristan Selmy, "Barristan the Bold," one of the strongest knights in the Seven Kingdoms.
"Your right hand relies too much on strength, Jaime."
Barristan's voice was as steady as a mountain.
"The true essence of swordsmanship lies in balance and coordination."
"Try using your left hand."
Young Jaime clumsily wielded the longsword with his left hand, parried easily by Barristan again and again.
Sweat soaked his golden hair, but in his green eyes, an unyielding fire burned.
"Again!"
..."Dual-wielding Single Handed Swords?"
Lynn's consciousness suddenly awoke from that memory.
He realized that he could actually glimpse the combat techniques deeply buried in Jaime's subconscious!
What... what was going on?
Greensight could only see things that happened in the past.
And a Warg could only share present senses.
But now, these two abilities, under the influence of his terrifying mental strength of 25 points, seemed to have produced a wondrous chemical reaction!
He could not only "enter" a person's present.
He could even follow the other person's consciousness and trace back to their past!
To peek into their deepest memories, to learn their most exquisite skills!
A crazy thought exploded in Lynn's mind.
What if... what if he could use this method to "see" the youth of Arthur Dayne?
To "see" how the legendary "Sword of the Morning" practiced his unparalleled swordsmanship?
What if he could "see" how Rhaegar Targaryen played the harp, making Lyanna Stark shed tears?
What if he could "see" how those ancient, long-lost magics were cast?
Lynn felt his blood burning!
This was not simple voyeurism, nor was it mere intelligence gathering.
This was a cheat!
It was directly accessing the top-tier skill library of the entire continent of Westeros!
The lifelong learning of any individual!
The secret arts of any family!
As long as Lynn wished.
As long as his mental strength was strong enough.
He could "claim it as his own"!
An indescribable ecstasy swept through Lynn's body, making him almost burst out laughing.
He suppressed the excitement in his heart, slowly withdrawing from Jaime's consciousness.
"What's wrong, my dear?"
Cersei felt Jaime's body stiffen slightly and asked, puzzled.
"Nothing."
Jaime came back to himself, a trace of confusion on his face.
"Just now... I seemed to have zoned out."
He shook his head, casting the strange feeling aside, and focused his attention on the alluring body before him... Castle Black, Aemon's room.
Lynn abruptly opened his eyes.
He was breathing heavily, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
The mental journey spanning thousands of miles had greatly exhausted him.
But in his eyes, an unprecedented light burned.
"My Lord, are you alright?"
Toren's voice came from outside the door, with a hint of worry.
Lynn stood up, walked to the door, and pulled it open.
"I'm fine."
His voice was strong and clear.
"Give my command, pack our belongings."
"We depart immediately, returning to Winterfell."
He wanted to see Bran.
This was his promise to Jon.
He wouldn't be idle on the way either.
He could make his first attempt to test his new ability.
He wanted to go and "see" that legendary "Sword of the Morning," Arthur Dayne.
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