One minute later, the loading symbol was still spinning.

"Is the signal too bad here?" Ahmoni sensed something was wrong, but still forced a smile.

Five minutes later, Ahmoni stared intently at the spinning circle, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, her head spinning. Just then, the circle finally disappeared.

Ahmoni snapped back to reality, and just as the words of surprise were about to come out, she saw the page refresh, and a few numbers popped up casually, causing her blood pressure to spike to its peak.

404 NOT FOUND

"How about it?"

Celt seemed to have expected this. At this moment, she seemed to have grasped the essence of the acting method and truly felt a sense of strategic planning, manipulating her subordinates' every move.

This feels great! Indeed, Mr. Joseph Pulitzer is my lucky star!

Once I conquer Hillshire, I will send all the evidence of the Hillshire’s misdeeds in bullying the Tara people and the corruption and hypocrisy of the Victorian nobility to Mr. Joseph Pulitzer, so that Victoria can feel the pain again!

Forced to concede defeat, Ahmoni lowered her head helplessly, feeling momentarily breathless. The network latency was practically the best cure for low blood pressure: "You're right."

Having achieved a satisfactory result, Celtic looked at Ahmoni, held up one finger, and said, "There's one more thing."

"Now, hurry up and buy me a newspaper."

Ahmoni jumped in surprise and ran out of the room like lightning.

Celt gazed at the large screen displaying advertisements for Joseph Pulitzer's articles, a blissful smile spreading across his face. Reading Pulitzer's articles was always a pleasure, a pleasure that transcended the physical, a joy that nourished the soul. It was a pity that Mr. Joseph Pulitzer's nationality remained unknown. If he were Victorian, after he had reclaimed Delacroix's glory, he would definitely find him and become his friend!

Watching Celt's goofy grin, Reed stuck out her tongue and swallowed back the words she was about to say: "Brother Wayne might be Joseph Pulitzer."

Well, it's best not to say anything. Let my sister find out for herself.

Maybe they'll hit it off on their own without me even having to mediate?

only....

"Longmen, Yan Kingdom: The Rise and Fall of City-States and Great Powers"—this title is quite strange. It seems more like a documentary than the direct, incisive critiques and incisive criticisms of the past?

Brother, no, has the Pulitzer reporter changed his tune? Could it be that he's going to write an article praising the Great Yan? That doesn't seem like the Pulitzer reporter's style, does it?

The reeds were completely baffled.

Also perplexed were the three generations of Pulitzers and their assistant Vina, who gathered in the Queen's office last night.

"Not to be rude, Your Highness, but this report is far too subtle. If the author's name were covered up, I would rather believe it came from a memorial from the Great Yan Dynasty than from an article by Joseph Pulitzer."

After reading the attached document sent by Jingzhe to Wayne's phone, Kal'tsit sighed deeply and asked with a furrowed brow, "..."

“Publishing such an article, Your Highness, don’t you think it will damage the reputation of Joseph Pulitzer?”

Theresa looked at Wayne with some concern. As the second Pulitzer, who had helped write the second article on the Northern Rebellion, she clearly shared similar views with Kal'tsit, the third. It wasn't criticism, but rather admonition, even going so far as to extensively quote classical texts and praise the peace and prosperity under the Great Yan Emperor's rule—completely unlike the writing style of a Pulitzer journalist. Frankly, they even felt that this thing couldn't be translated into Victorian language at all; there were too many classical Chinese words, poems, and lyrics!

Even if you try to read the original Yan language, without some knowledge of Yan culture, you still won't understand it. Look at Her Majesty Vina, she's studied Yan language for so long, and she's still completely bewildered after reading it for a while, isn't she?

Only the three old monsters present (in fact there were only two, but Kal'tsit thought there were three, and Vayne was the same) could understand it.

This is fundamentally detrimental to the dissemination of the article. If this article were to be disseminated, it would easily be labeled as "currying favor with the Emperor of Yan" by media outlets, companies, organizations, or countries that dislike Pulitzer but cannot find fault with the fictional character of Pulitzer. This would be tantamount to damaging their own reputation.

Joseph Pulitzer's identity as a journalist, whether for political gain or social good, was something Kelsey, Theresa, and even Wayne didn't want to tarnish. He was a beacon of justice on Terra, a great role model, and a predecessor who would undoubtedly serve as an educator. It's truly a pity to see him ruined like this.

Wayne pondered for a moment, then nodded: "You're right, it needs to be changed."

It needs to be changed, but the question is, how?

Jingzhe clearly embodies the ideas of loyalty to the emperor and the country, and the willingness to die for one's country. This is not her fault; the education system of the Great Yan Dynasty dictates this, and her thinking is similar to the Ursus people's desire to kill infected individuals—it stems from their social environment. However, Joseph Pulitzer should not have such biases.

However, the author of this article was Joseph Pulitzer, the fourth person appointed by Wayne. If Wayne did not want to go back on his word, then some things could not be changed, and efforts should be made to satisfy both parties.

"Since that's the case... I have an idea. How about we write a memorial to the throne?"

Kal'tsit, as expected of a thousand-year-old lynx with unparalleled experience, pondered for a moment and then suddenly made a suggestion.

Vina understood Kal'tsit's meaning in an instant, and said with a thud: "Since this Pulitzer Prize is for the Awakening of Insects, and she has chosen the form of a memorial, then let's write a Pulitzer-style memorial based on the contents of her letter and give it to her."

Theresa nodded, but then immediately raised a question: "Who here knows how to write memorials? I don't, what about Kal'tsit?"

Kal'tsit licked her lips and nodded somewhat reluctantly: "I can, but I haven't written in a long time."

A very long time, probably several hundred years.

“I’ll write it,” Wayne suddenly said, his eyes gleaming. He had a good idea: “I’ll write it. I already have an idea.”

The Pulitzer journalist's memorial—the condition might be a bit vague—but Wayne immediately thought of a similar article.

Isn't it just advising the emperor? I can't do that, but in Wayne's previous life in the Great Foodie Kingdom, there were plenty of other things he could do.

"Be close to virtuous ministers and keep away from petty men. First, arrange a 'Memorial on Dispatching the Troops,' stating that even the emperor is subject to the same laws as commoners. Then, include a 'Records of the Grand Historian.' As for the part where the emperor is criticized, 'Memorial on Governance,' that's in the works! When I watched 'Ming Dynasty 1566,' he even went out of his way to read 'Memorial on Governance' several times. The content of 'Awakening of Insects' is interspersed within it, without deleting a single word or changing its meaning."

"Isn't this just walking right into my line of fire?"

Wayne grinned mischievously.

Since transmigrating, because he didn't transmigrate into the Yan realm, he has always regretted not being able to find the opportunity to do what transmigrators are used to, like copying a few lines of poetry.

But now, it's actually come in handy at this crucial moment.

Hey, you unnamed emperor of the Yan Kingdom, you've really pulled out all the stops this time. This is the culmination of over a thousand years of wisdom from our ancestors, the food-loving nation, who can insult each other without using a single swear word. Enjoy!

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Chapter 174 The First Person Raises the Flag of Rebellion - Towards the Emperor (4k Long Chapter)

Great Yan, Longmen, early morning.

Wei Yanwu was having morning tea at home when the front door was suddenly kicked open with a loud bang. Immediately following, his antique blue-and-white porcelain teapot and wine cups, which were at least several hundred years old, shattered on the floor.

Wei Yanwu's eyelids twitched, and he was about to lash out when he looked up and met Madam Wenyue's anxious gaze.

"Who dares to move...?"

Before he could even utter the words "my teacup," Wei Yanwu changed his tone, his anger turning to a smile, and said:

"Who dares to touch my wife's precious heart? Don't worry, my wife, let's talk this out. I'll help you resolve this."

Wen Yue blinked, sat down in confusion, and asked, "How did you know I wanted to talk to you?"

Why would you show up in front of me this early in the morning if you didn't need anything? You're probably out playing mahjong with your girlfriends, or maybe you're out racing Hoshiguma. Do you think I don't know?

Wei Yanwu rolled his eyes inwardly, but his face remained beaming with a warm smile:

"Because my wife and I are of one mind."

Madam Wenyue chuckled softly, turned her head to the side, and rummaged in her small handbag as she said, "Heh, then guess what I want to talk to you about?"

Wei Yanwu laughed and thought to himself, "We're an old married couple, in our twilight years. Isn't it a bit too late for you to start playing with my little lovemaking routine now?"

But hey, I, Wei Yanwu, fall for that. Come on, let me guess.

Wei Yanwu put down his lonely teacup, now devoid of its teapot, stroked his chin, feigned deep thought for a few seconds, and then raised his index finger, saying:

Is today our wedding anniversary?

Wen Yue turned her head, holding something in her hand, but Wei Yanwu didn't see it clearly before Wen Yue placed it on her lap to cover it, frowning as she said:

"No. Our wedding anniversary is in the first half of the year, don't you remember?"

"Was that a gift for me?" Wei Yanwu was secretly pleased, but faced with Wen Yue's question, he immediately fell back down and hurriedly explained:

"No, no, no, how could I forget? I was just joking with you, madam. Let me think... Today is your birthday, isn't it? Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday my ass." Madam Wenyue rolled her eyes, slammed her hand on the table, narrowed her eyes, and a murderous aura instantly emanated from her. "Have you forgotten when my birthday is?"

"How could I forget?"

"Then tell me."

Wei Yanwu changed the subject, saying, "Look, the way you're asking this means you don't believe in our relationship, darling?"

"Then tell me when your birthday is, dear?"

"Do you really want me to say it? This is testing my patience, my lady!"

Wen Yue scoffed dismissively: "Shouldn't I be the one who lost patience first?"

Wei Yanwu bit his lip, closed his eyes, and his eyeballs darted around wildly behind his eyelids as he racked his brains for ideas that might concern his future happiness. Seeing this, Madam Wenyue walked behind him, pressed down on his shoulders, and gripped his shoulder blades with a force as strong as a vise, asking coldly:

"Pray nia?"

Wei Yanwu swallowed hard and said firmly, "Then I'll tell you. It's not too late to back down now!"

"Heh heh, then tell me!"

Wei Yanwu took a deep breath and said loudly, "July 7th is your and Chen Yitian's birthday, right!"

Wen Yue was stunned for a moment, and slowly loosened her grip on Wei Yanwu's shoulder. Wei Yanwu wanted to grab her hand and turn around, but Wen Yue unexpectedly reached out and wrapped her arms around Wei Yanwu's neck, resting her head on Wei Yanwu's cheek.

Only then did Wei Yanwu notice the unusual solemnity and sorrow on Lady Wenyue's face. Wei Yanwu grasped Wenyue's hand and said gravely:

"What happened, madam?"

"See for yourself."

Wen Yue slapped the folded newspaper in her hand onto Wei Yanwu's face.

"Look what you've done! Why did you do this?"

Wei Yanwu squinted and unfolded the newspaper on the tea table. The newspaper was the Lungmen Daily, which Wei Yanwu often read. It was considered the most influential unofficial newspaper in Lungmen and the surrounding area. However, today, the newspaper did not carry any gossip about the Carter idol who was disguised as Rupert, nor was it about the clash between the Syracuse gang remnants who had infiltrated Lungmen and the local underground forces. Instead, today's newspaper prominently featured his portrait!

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