Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 141

**Chapter 141: Who’s Her Husband?**

As soon as someone stepped in to handle the wings of the winged serpent, Sylvan made his way over to the massive creature’s lifeless body, a mix of awe and curiosity swirling within him.

Finished.

The thirty or so men who had been huddled around her began to murmur amongst themselves, their voices tinged with dissatisfaction as they directed their complaints toward Leiva and Zolensky.

“You two are utterly useless. You couldn’t even manage to get a straightforward answer,” one of them grumbled, crossing his arms in frustration.

“Seriously, think for just a moment! Girls love being complimented. Couldn’t you have sweet-talked her a little?” another chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief.

Zolensky, with a flourish, tossed a bloody chunk of serpent meat into Bane’s arms, the loudest critic in the group. “Why don’t you go and ask her yourself? Even with all that makeup, Ms. Feywin is clearly out of our league. When we tried flattering her, she didn’t even blink an eye.”

“A girl like her, especially with that fierce aura, is probably married to someone of significant rank, like a major general. Our main legion has 200,000 soldiers, plus an additional 300,000 from the surrounding legions. Major generals are a rare breed. We can investigate that angle when we return,” Zolensky continued, his voice laced with certainty.

Bane clutched the serpent meat, his brow furrowing in confusion. “But how do you know her husband is a major general? What if he’s just some nobody?”

Zolensky snorted derisively. “With a look like that, even our commander might struggle to handle her. You really think some low-ranking guy could keep up?”

A heavy silence fell over the group, the weight of Zolensky’s words hanging in the air.

It made sense. No one could dispute the logic.

Sylvara stood beside the corpse of the winged serpent, her fingers brushing against the thick scales, feeling their coolness beneath her touch.

The creature’s body was massive, its weight substantial. A willow branch had cleanly severed its head, the tail still protruding upwards, while the head hung down, a gruesome sight.

With purpose, she retrieved two large basins from her spatial button, tossing one toward Zolensky. “Put the washed wings in this. Stop being lazy and get to work.”

He caught it with ease, a reluctant grin creeping onto his face as he began his task, grumbling under his breath.

The others, though not particularly enthusiastic about the prospect of a meal, joined in to help, their camaraderie pushing them forward.

Sylvara continued to rummage through her spatial button, pulling out an array of spices and a portable grill. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of her mentor, Malcolm, whose genius in preparing such supplies made military training feel more like a picnic than a chore.

Aside from trying to avoid that jerk Aslan, everything Malcolm had provided her transformed the mundane into something enjoyable.

She possessed every cooking tool imaginable, all neatly stored within her spatial button, ready for any culinary adventure.

Setting up the grill, she stuffed dry wood beneath it, grabbed a flame sprayer, and ignited it with a swift flick of her wrist.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify