Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

Wayne took a deep breath to ease the suffocating feeling caused by his racing heart.

Although Wayne has seen his fair share of beautiful young women in his life—from the queenly Vina, to the gentle Theresa, the icy lynx Kal'tsit, the intellectual raptor Hermes, and even, if we were to count, the career woman Menes and the mad loli Fiona—he has seen plenty of them all.

But I have to say, the white hair and red eyes really appealed to Wayne's sensibilities.

This wasn't the first time Wayne had seen Mudrock's true appearance. In fact, even if Wayne hadn't said anything, an organization like Unicorn wouldn't have tolerated a mysterious person who refused to reveal their identity staying in the palace, close to Her Majesty the Queen and the Prince. Although Mudrock had helped them greatly during the Northern Rebellion, contributing significantly to prevent the investigation into her from going so far as to dig up her entire family history, her basic appearance had long been on Wayne's desk.

Moreover, even if we take a step back and assume the worst, Wayne had actually seen Mudrock in the game, revealing a starkly different, timid and beautiful girl after she removed her armor.

But a two-dimensional painting can never compare to a three-dimensional person. When Wayne finally saw the mudstone up close, he couldn't help but be stunned for a few seconds.

Those few seconds of staring made Miss Mudrock take a step back shyly.

Thankfully, Wayne reacted quickly; otherwise, Miss Mudrock's hard-won courage might have vanished because of Wayne's stare. She might have run away then.

Who would have thought? The mercenary Mudrock, who wields a heavy hammer on the battlefield, summons rock giants, and whose strength even Winster had to acknowledge as remarkable, the Mudrock who possesses the blood of the earth and can communicate with soil and rocks, actually hides an incredibly soft and delicate heart beneath his armor.

She pays attention to every detail, doesn't overlook your every move, and is very sensitive to changes in emotions. Unlike the resilient and inclusive image of the earth, mudstone is a gentle and lovely girl.

"Mud...mudstone. I really didn't expect what you looked like underneath your armor..."

Although Wayne knew what Mudrock looked like, these words were truly from the heart. Who wouldn't be astonished to see a mercenary who had been active on the battlefield for so long possessing such a face?

This is probably why Mudrock wears a helmet and heavy armor. More than her appearance, she hopes to earn a living through her skills and secure contracts. However, her looks often put her in a predicament where "recruiters come for her face, while those who don't are disgusted by her lack of even a scar and find her appearance unreliable."

There was no way around it; her strength was too great to leave scars. Mudrock couldn't possibly cut herself, could she? She still valued and cherished her body.

"Feel sorry......"

For some reason, Mudrock apologized again, and then said,

“I’ve come to say goodbye, Your Highness Wayne.”

"Saying goodbye?"

Wayne blinked.

Where are you going?

Wayne was a little worried. Could this be some kind of "farewell perk"? Since he was leaving soon, he decided to show his face to Wayne and then disappear for three or two years, so that Wayne would see him and know about him, but not be able to touch him.

This is really... Mostima has used this tactic before, but that's just her carefree personality, and the Sarkaz's values ​​are different from Vayne's. She deliberately avoids Vayne, and even if Vayne uses his unicorn, he probably won't be able to find her. Vayne is so angry that sometimes he wants to call her to ask how she's doing, but he's just jumping up and down in frustration. If only he hadn't agreed to the three-year agreement in the first place, wouldn't it have been better to keep Mostima by his side? Now, he's worried about her being in danger.

Now that mudstone is saying goodbye too, you don't want to follow Mostima's example, do you?

That won't do. You learn from your mistakes. I disagree!

"Go to school."

With just one sentence, Mudrock silenced Wayne's long speech urging him not to leave.

He remembered; it seemed like there was such a thing.

Shortly after Vina returned from Columbia, she complained to herself that Winster had handed her his resignation, saying he couldn't teach Surtr and Mudrock.

Wayne had also pondered what kind of operator Winster would be in the game. After much thought, he concluded that Unicorn should be considered a Specialist, as they certainly fit the hard criteria of a Specialist operator who is "exceptionally brave".

That makes sense. Winster, a special agent, couldn't possibly teach Mudrock and Surtr, one a heavy armor user and the other a guard, because their specializations don't match. Real-world teaching isn't like the specializations in games, where even if someone's specialization is unrelated, they can still learn by being forced into it. Improving Originium Arts proficiency in reality requires a much broader range of knowledge.

Later, Vina told him about this, saying that Theresa suggested that Surtr and Mudrock should simply go to Kazdel's Whampoa (the full name was too long for Wayne to pronounce) for further training. On one hand, Theresis, as a Sarkaz, would certainly have more experience training Sarkaz. If all else failed, some old guys from the Royal Court were very interested in the academy and, at Theresis's request, became honorary professors there, who could teach Surtr and Mudrock.

On the other hand, it also serves as a way to build a reputation: Victoria's royal guards have all gone there to study, and with so many powerful demons personally teaching them, it might attract even more Sarkaz talent.

He understood the matter and agreed to it.

However, Mudrock's stunning appearance had momentarily stunned Wayne, causing him to forget about it. Mudrock's reminder brought it back to his senses, and he immediately nodded.

“Good for your studies. That’s a good thing. I’ll come to see you often. If Theresis gives you any trouble, remember to tell me, or tell Theresa. We’ll stand up for you.”

As he spoke, he glanced behind Mudrock but didn't see Surtr, and asked in confusion:

"Where's Surtr? Didn't he come with you?"

Mudstone glanced at him and waved his hand:

"They probably went somewhere to have fun, right?"

Surtr? Surtr isn't coming. While Mudrock doesn't have his hammer, Surtr didn't bring Levadin either. In terms of melee combat alone, Mudrock, as a veteran mercenary, is far superior to Surtr. After all, Surtr's fighting strength comes almost entirely from Levadin.

"That's such a pity. I'm about to leave too, so it seems I won't be able to say goodbye to her."

Mud Rock breathed a slight sigh of relief upon hearing this.

Thankfully, thankfully I mustered up the courage this time.

Otherwise, if His Highness Wayne also leaves, who will she give the gift she has worked so hard to prepare to?

With a girl's warm and cozy thoughts in her heart, Mud Rock turned around, dragged the suitcase from the doorway to Wayne, placed it on its side, and then slowly opened it.

“Your Highness Wayne, thank you for taking care of me during this time. Please accept this.”

Inside the suitcase was a huge group figurine. In the center stood the iconic trio of Wayne, Theresa, and Vina, hand in hand. Surrounding them were Mudrock, his armor removed and hands folded across his chest; Reed, leaping high to try and grab Wayne but being blocked; and Mostima, arms crossed, leisurely watching the spectacle. Further out were Winston, Ernest, Mayor Arthur, and even Earl Vincent and Miss Heidi, whom they had only met a few times in the North.

This is a family portrait, a portrait of the families of the people Mudrock met after arriving in Victoria.

Each figure is incredibly lifelike. Even if the real people were there, they would probably have to admire how well Mudrock captured the details of their expressions and movements.

Most importantly, everyone had a smile on their face, whether bright or faint.

Everyone is very happy.

This is not just a gift, but also a blessing.

Wayne looked up and solemnly accepted the gift.

"Thank you, Mudstone."

"Good luck, Your Highness Wayne, have a safe journey."

Chapter 102 I'm a Pulitzer Prize Fan

Victoria, Dublin, Deep Pool Camp.

The Draco are extinct; at least, you can't find any trace of them in modern Victorian official documents. Whether it's Reed and her Celtic sister, or Talulah and her father Edward, everything about them seems to have been deliberately shrouded in mystery, vanishing into the earth.

However, Dublin remained the stronghold of the Drak and Deeppool. While Reed couldn't command Dublin and Victoria as a member of the Drak royal family, her status as the "adopted daughter of the King in the North" carried considerable weight locally. Local officials had to give Reed face, and nobles would greet her. They were all people who had followed the King in his campaigns, knew Reed, and naturally were happy to give this girl they had watched grow up some due respect.

Moreover, Reed's brother, Wayne, son of the King in the North, is still staying in the Iron Palace in Lontinem.

The nobles of the North were very grateful to Wayne. After all, if Wayne hadn't spoken up for them, the old ministers of the King of the North, during the rebellion instigated by the Duke of Normandy, they might not only have lost their official positions and noble titles, but they might have even lost their lives.

With this personal connection and Wayne's status, Reed naturally received good treatment.

But the reeds didn't really care about these things.

She wasn't particularly concerned about the so-called "millennial feud between Drak and Aslan," nor was she very concerned about the dual military and political predicament Deeppool was currently facing.

If she could, she would even like to go back to Lontinim and play with her brother Wayne, just like when they were little kids.

Unfortunately, Celt disagreed. He always said, "If you go, you'll never come back. Putting aside your cheap brother, what about the Aslan royal family? That new empress, how could she tolerate you?"

Although Reed didn't quite believe Celt's story, there was nothing she could do. Celt was, after all, her sister, and even if she had a thousand grievances in her heart, Reed wouldn't vent them on her family.

She didn't think all Aslan were bad people; her father, her brother Wayne, for example—they had all been kind to her. But she couldn't completely dismiss Celt's words: not everyone was bad, but that didn't mean there weren't any. What if, just what if that Empress was a bad person? What if she was petty and narrow-minded?

I heard from my brother Wayne that the Empress Vina is her cousin. But I'm his biological sister. If she finds out that my brother Wayne doesn't play with his cousin but plays with his own sister instead, won't she be angry?

Reed didn't want to cause trouble for her brother Wayne; she cherished every one of her family members. If possible, she also wanted to become friends with that sister Vina.

Unfortunately, the Celtics wouldn't allow it.

"Forget about going to Lontinim. No matter how many times you mention it, I won't let you go. Going to Lontinim is just sending yourself to the lions! That kid Wayne, humph, he's full of bad intentions, definitely not a good person!"

Celt said this while sipping fresh green tea made from leaves freshly picked from the tea tree.

Dublin is far from Lentinium and far less bustling. Beyond the Deeppool encampment lies a vast expanse of mountains and farmland where Celt has planted a tea grove herself. Every year at this time, she can enjoy tea brewed from leaves she has picked herself.

This is also one of the reasons why the Celts prided themselves on being superior to the Aslans. How could those who were confined to prosperous Londinium and lived in the Iron Palace with its towering walls possibly understand the suffering of the lower classes? The Draks, on the other hand, were different. They truly came out from among the people to fight against those in power, and their regime was clearly more just.

But when she said those words, she probably didn't realize that her current situation was ultimately just for that crown and that throne. They didn't have any real "progress" and couldn't be compared to Wayne now.

Reed pouted angrily and glared at Celt:

"Don't speak ill of my brother. He's very good to me."

Although he had heard this phrase many times, Celtic was still furious and retorted, "I'm your sister! My own sister! He's Aslan, you're Draco, you're adopted siblings, adopted!"

"So what? Blood is thicker than water!"

"Where do you two get your blood relation from?!"

"Hmph!" Reed pouted and turned her head away, not wanting to pay any attention to Celt.

Seeing this, Celtic could only sigh helplessly and shake his head.

I really don't know what kind of drug Wayne gave his sister; she's so stubborn, not even nine oxen could pull her back.

Deeppool lost over a dozen brothers in the Northern Uprising. These were all loyal bloodlines nurtured by the Drak people over generations, and the Celts grieved for half a day for each one lost. Fortunately, for some reason, Wayne did not take advantage of the situation to launch an expedition to Dublin and destroy the emerging Deeppool forces, giving the Celts a much-needed respite.

Why did he do this?

Could it be true, as Reed said, that there are good people among the Aslan? Does Wayne value family ties more than blood ties and the hatred of the throne?

No, no, no... How could that be? He's a member of the Aslan royal family. Lions are proud of their power and rule. He didn't attack me; he must have something else on his mind!

"Sigh, I really wish we could have such an opportunity too."

Celtic looked at the Lontinim Morning Post, which he had bought from Lontinim via messenger, paying particular attention to information related to the Colombian unrest. That Pulitzer journalist was truly remarkable; single-handedly, he had exposed so much shocking information about Colombia, even single-handedly dismantling a country's long-established chain of corruption.

Previously, Celt believed that an individual's impact on the land was extremely limited. The near-limitless power of those in power, combined with the apathy of the people, rendered almost everything a mere ripple in the ocean, creating a brief disturbance before disappearing without a trace. But the Pulitzer journalist made Celt realize that this was not the case. Given the right perspective, even an individual could leave an indelible mark on the land!

This gave her, who was in a state of depression, a great boost, and the entire Deep Pool organization.

If given the chance, Celtic would love to find that Pulitzer journalist and have a long talk with him; she believed she could definitely become friends with him.

"If you ask me, Reed, instead of idolizing your brother Wayne, you should read more of Joseph Pulitzer's articles. That's true justice, the mark of a true gentleman."

While drinking tea, Celtic reread the Pulitzer journalist's exposé about Colombia, and also reread the Pulitzer journalist's article about the Northern Rebellion.

What a good person! This is a truly good person!

This not only helped to strike a blow against the Lions of Lontinim, proving how corrupt and incompetent Aslan's rule was, but also encouraged Deeppool and restored his own confidence!

Although as a leader, Celtic couldn't openly express her admiration for the Pulitzer journalist, privately, at least in front of her sister, she could proudly say:

"I'm a huge fan of Pulitzer journalists."