Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 66: Cast Iron Concussion

Lyssa slithered down the winding obsidian hallway, the sound of her silk robes rustling against the stone. A smug, self-satisfied smile played on her lips, one she didn’t bother to hide in the empty corridor.

She didn’t rush. She took her time, savoring the sweet taste of victory.

Behind her, deep within the bowels of the palace, the Vault was sealed tight. It was designed to keep thieves out, but today, it was doing a magnificent job of keeping a nuisance in. The temperature inside that room was notoriously frigid, lethal for fragile, thin-skinned creatures.

"Poor Viper," Lyssa whispered to the empty air, feigning sympathy. "Caught in the crossfire. A necessary sacrifice for the good of the Clan."

Viper was a reptile; the cold would merely slow his heart rate. He would curl up, slip into a deep hibernation, and wake up in a week with a stiff neck.

But the mammal?

Lyssa let out a soft chuckle. Ren wouldn’t hibernate. She would freeze. Her tiny, shivering body would succumb to the cold in minutes. By the time anyone remembered to check the vault, she would be nothing more than a frozen statue of regret.

’Plan A is flawless,’ Lyssa thought, admiring her own nails. ’The problem removes itself naturally.’

But Lyssa knew things didn’t always go according to plan, so she had prepared herself for the unlikely alternative. What if the pet survived the cold? What if Syris sent a rescue party sooner than expected?

"It does not matter," Lyssa murmured, her smile widening into something predatory.

Because while the mammal was trapped in the dark, time was ticking in the Grand Foyer.

The sounds of the battle were muffled here, but she could still feel the vibrations in the floor. Thud. Crash. Roar.

The Tiger King was strong—far stronger than a feral beast had any right to be. Syris was the ruler of this domain, the most powerful Titanoboa in generations, but even he had limits. He couldn’t hold down a thrashing, blood-crazed apex predator forever. Eventually, his muscles would tire. Eventually, the Tiger would find an opening to strike a lethal blow.

And in that moment, Syris would have no choice. To save his own life, he would have to kill the Tiger. He would have to snap that furry neck or crush those ribs into dust.

’And when the little pet finally escapes her icy prison,’ Lyssa thought gleefully, ’What will she find?’

’She would find her precious tiger dead on the floor. And standing over him, covered in blood, would be Syris.’

The romance would shatter instantly. Ren would look at Syris not with love, but with hatred. She would scream, she would blame him, she would reject him. And Syris? Proud, heartbroken Syris would be crushed by her rejection. He would realize that mixing species was a mistake. He would see that the mammal was ungrateful.

And he would turn back to the one female who had always been there. The one who understood him. The one who was a snake.

"He will see," Lyssa hummed, imagining the King’s gratitude as she comforted him. "He will realize I did him a favor. He will come back to—"

She turned the corner leading back to the Grand Foyer, ready to witness the gruesome finale of the fight.

She stopped dead.

Her fantasy crashed into a very solid, very scaly wall.

Standing in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed over his massive chest, blocking her path, was Viper.

He was shivering slightly, his green scales looking a bit pale from the chill, but he looked very much awake, very much alive, and very much annoyed.

"Going somewhere, First Concubine?" Viper asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Lyssa’s eyes bulged. Her jaw dropped unhinged. She looked at him as if she were seeing a ghost.

"Viper?" she gasped, stumbling back. "How... how are you out? The door! I locked it!"

"You did," Viper agreed, flicking his tongue. "But you forgot one thing."

"What?" Lyssa demanded, backing away. "What did I forget?!"

"You forgot the most important rule," a shivering voice called out from the shadows behind her.

Lyssa froze.

Ren stepped out of the alcove. She looked like a vengeful ice pop, blue-lipped and shaking violently. She gripped the handle of her black iron skillet like it was a samurai sword.

She glared at Lyssa, her teeth chattering, and delivered the line she had been waiting her whole life to say.

"Revenge," Ren stuttered, trying to look cool despite the hypothermia, "is a dish b-best served c-c-cold."

Lyssa spun around, eyes wide.

"H-how?" Lyssa stammered. "That door is solid obsidian! It’s impenetrable!"

"That’s w-where you’re w-wrong," Ren chattered, stepping closer, dragging her stiff leg. She raised the pan threateningly.

"Obsidian isn’t metal, Lyssa," Ren explained through her chattering teeth. "It’s volcanic glass. It’s brittle. It breaks if you hit it hard enough."

Ren had gambled on the architecture. She figured that whoever built the lock mechanism wouldn’t have created two separate locks for one door. To make the inside of the vault look pretty, they had simply covered the opposite side of the slot with a thin veneer of obsidian.

It was a cosmetic choice.

Ren had used the frying pan to chip-away that thin inner layer of glass and stuck the Jade Key in from the back, fortunately, it opened just the same.

"You damaged the Royal Vault?! " Lyssa screeched, outraged.

"I’m about to damage your f-face!" Ren snapped.

Lyssa hissed, her hands curling into claws. She bared her fangs. "You foolish pet! You think you can stop me? I am a Python! I am the First Concubine! I will—"

She lunged at Ren, aiming to shred the shivering woman.

Ren didn’t dodge. She was too cold to be agile. But she had rage, and she had a heavy piece of cast iron.

"Batter up!" Ren yelled.

She swung the pan with every ounce of strength her freezing body possessed.

CLAAAAAANG.

The heavy iron bottom of the pan connected squarely with the side of Lyssa’s head.

Lyssa’s eyes rolled back into her skull. She didn’t even scream. Her mouth formed a small ’o’ of surprise before her knees buckled. She crumpled like a house of cards, her long snake tail going limp as she collapsed.

Ren stood over her, panting, the vibrations of the impact still ringing in her numb hands.

"Nice swing," Viper commented, looking genuinely impressed.

Ren wiped a frozen tear from her cheek and looked down at the unconscious woman who had tried to turn her into a popsicle.

"That," Ren said, shivering as she adjusted her grip on the handle, "is for trying to steal my husband."

She looked at Viper, her expression hardening.

"Now let’s go," Ren ordered, hobbling past Lyssa’s body toward the roar of the fight. "We have a cat to sedate."