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

"The time has come to achieve great things, to use science to revolutionize the earth!"

Henry raised his right hand high and shouted the slogan of Rhine Life.

Chapter 176 Fyodor's Trial!

Ursus Empire, Saint-Germain Castle, Royal Palace.

Three days after Wayne left Saint-Germain, Emperor Fyodor of Ursus formally convened a court meeting in the palace. In this era, politics had largely slipped from the control of the royal family. Except for major events like declaring war, which still required the emperor's personal involvement, most matters were delegated to the Imperial Council, headed by Witt, which was responsible for mediating with local nobles and warlords. This reduced the workload of the Ursus emperor, but also weakened imperial power to some extent.

However, at least for now, the nobles disliked the Imperial Council, controlled by the seemingly cowardly but actually clever man, Witt, more than the easier-to-deal-with Emperor. Therefore, upon hearing that the Emperor suddenly wanted to convene a court meeting himself, the nobles of Ursus unanimously postponed their departure from Saint-Strong Castle and gathered promptly at nine o'clock in the morning in the magnificent main hall of the Imperial Palace.

In the passageway at the back of the main hall, Islam Witt straightened the tie of the ambitious Emperor before him, his eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses flashing with worry. He asked earnestly:

"Your Majesty, are you ready?"

“To be honest, I wasn’t prepared.” Fyodor raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror, saying something discouraging, but his face was beaming. “However, Witt, how many people in this world can be fully prepared at all times? I think when the late emperor led the impoverished and weak Ursus to launch its first war of expansion, he must have been even more apprehensive than I am now.”

Witt watched the emperor speaking eloquently. In his eyes, Fyodor should be a capable ruler who could maintain the status quo, but the Ursus Empire in its current state needed not a ruler who could maintain the status quo, but a reformer, a powerful figure like the Prince of Wales of Victoria.

But today, his impression of him has changed somewhat. Fyodor is indeed a ruler who maintains the status quo. He may have all sorts of flaws, but he has one very rare virtue—he is willing to set aside his pride and learn from the strengths of others.

He may lack the wisdom to innovate and reform, but he found his own path—there are so many people on earth who are good at creating, and countless people who possess wisdom and can be called wise men, but there are only a few emperors. I may not be good at doing it myself, but I can let others do it and then copy the answer!

This willingness to learn from others is enough to demonstrate the magnanimity of an emperor!

A surge of emotion welled up in Witt's heart. He had spent decades climbing the ranks of the Ursus bureaucracy, rising from a lowly civil servant in Saint-Germain to the Minister of Finance of Ursus, and now, the Speaker of the Imperial Council, the most powerful person second only to the Emperor! Looking back, who among them hadn't been filled with fervent passion, determined to revitalize Ursus and continue the Empire's glory? Who among them hadn't been a youth?

"You have such thoughts, very good, truly very good, Your Majesty. Your spirit is enough to shame any Ursus nobleman who is driven by fame and fortune!"

Islam stepped back, bowed respectfully, and made a gesture of submission to Fyodor, placing his hand on his chest.

"Now, Your Majesty, go and meet your nobles and ministers, conquer them with your might, and unite them once again under the banner of Ursus!"

Fyodor gazed at Witte, nodded, and strode confidently toward the door leading to the main hall. Witte walked ahead, opening the door for him and entering the hall before him. His formal attire—a suit and glasses—made him somewhat inconspicuous among the nobles in their flowing robes and gowns, even appearing somewhat frail. Yet, Witte proclaimed in the loudest, most authoritative voice:

"Silence! His Majesty the Emperor has arrived!"

The hall fell silent for a moment. The nobles turned around in surprise, looking at the council speaker, who they saw as a bully, with either hatred or disdain. But none of them dared to stand up and accuse him of making a scene in public, because the tiger he was using to bully others, the emperor of Ursus, had arrived!

Fyodor walked into the hall without looking to either side, his gaze fixed on the majestic throne on the steps. He walked up step by step, turned around to face his ministers, and his calm gaze seemed like a searchlight piercing into the soul. After a moment, he withdrew his gaze, slowly sat down on the throne, and turned his head, making the crown on his head shine exceptionally brightly.

"Cough cough!"

Witt watched with surprise as Fyodor, who had subdued the nobles with his mere presence, coughed lightly twice, and reminded him:

"I pay my highest respects to His Majesty the Emperor. May God bless His Majesty!"

The nobles blinked as if waking from a dream, exchanged glances, and conveyed complex emotions. Their bodies bent over or knelt on one knee according to muscle memory, but the mockery in their hearts had already diminished by half.

"May God bless our Emperor!"

Taking advantage of the moment when everyone lowered their heads, Fyodor quietly turned his head and winked at Witt beside him.

Victor subtly gave a thumbs-up behind his back.

The Emperor of Ursus still possessed authority, and it was never insignificant. But authority doesn't put food on the table, just as Vayne had nothing but money; the Emperor of Ursus had nothing but authority.

But just like Wayne, who was rich and could accomplish many things even without anything else, he was also authoritative and could accomplish many things.

"Rise. I have something to announce at this court meeting."

The nobles stood up, dozens of eyes fixed on Fyodor on the steps, as if they saw in this middle-aged man the majesty that once belonged to the late emperor.

After all, they were father and son; their faces were naturally similar. When Fyodor found his direction and rallied, the aura he exuded reminded the nobles of a figure who had already departed.

That man led Ursus to glory, giving them their current wealth. But when he was around, none of the Ursus nobles dared to be so arrogant. They were timid and fearful, afraid that their absurd behavior and inflated desires would lead to the guards holding a knife to their necks the next morning.

The nobles' expressions were complex. The royalists' eyes revealed a mixture of nostalgia and exhilaration; the more His Majesty resembled the late emperor, the happier they were, longing to return to that great era!

The new nobles, however, had rather somber expressions. The previous emperor's years of war had granted them status, but it had also placed them in constant danger. Having risen through economic and capital means, they could not afford the consequences of a second emperor who loved war.

Fyodor, with a serious expression, announced:

"First, I will here, in accordance with the Ursus Constitution and the laws of the nobility, exercise the power of the Emperor of Ursus to strip Kosiché Andowalt, Dunker Karajevsky, Hanker Rosin, Baikal Mika, and others of all their noble status and sentence them to death! The crime is—treason!"

Chapter 177 Long-Distance Micro-Manipulation Execution

Talulah arrived at the palace in Saint-Horned Castle, but she was not granted permission to enter the hall where the emperor held meetings. She had no noble status, no background with any financial or military magnates, and not even the status of a citizen of Ursus; she was simply an undocumented immigrant.

Koschei did indeed groom her as his successor, but all of that vanished after she refused to comply with Koschei's schemes and assassinated Duke Koschei, the embodiment of the black serpent's will. Her current ability to move freely within Saint-Germain Castle is thanks to a deal Wayne made with Fyodor.

To gain Fyodor's trust, Wayne revealed information about the Kosichean conspiracy to Fyodor. In return, Wayne made a request: he asked Fyodor for two people. The first was Kal'tsit, who had been on the Ursus Guard's revenge list ever since she disguised herself as a maid to assassinate Grand Duke Vania in the sanatorium. Ursus's pursuit of her had never ceased.

The last pursuit was three years ago in the Earl of Vincent's Territory in northern Victoria, an attack launched by the Ursus Guard Hunters. The attack ended with Kal'tsit breaking the mask container used by the Guards to imprison the demon inside her, at the cost of serious injury. Using the Victoria unicorn as a deterrent, she persuaded the Hunters to leave on the grounds that continuing the fight might release the demon, which would be detrimental to human civilization.

However, the failure of a single pursuit didn't mean Ursus would let Kal'tsit go. It's just that for the past few years, Kal'tsit had been following Theresa's movements, residing in the heart of Kazdel, surrounded by the forces of the Absolutes and the Sarkaz royal court. The xenophobic Sarkaz wouldn't allow any of Ursus's minions to set foot in their territory. Alternatively, she might have resided in Victoria's palace. Unless Ursus wanted to clash with Victoria and get utterly defeated, their guards wouldn't dare venture into Londinium. Therefore, Kal'tsit was temporarily safe.

Now that Wayne has officially resolved the issue, Fyodor has ordered the end of the manhunt for Kal'tsit.

Besides Kal'tsit, the other person Wayne wanted was Talulah. Fyodor's attitude towards the Infected was relatively mild; from what Wayne learned in the story, Fyodor even intended to improve the living conditions and social status of the Infected in the eastern and northern mines. However, due to strong domestic opposition and deeply ingrained social prejudices, the policy had never been truly implemented.

Talulah is now free from the surveillance of the Inner Guards—at least the Inner Guards no longer dare to show themselves around her—and is able to come to St. Arthur's Castle to witness this historic moment, the death of her enemy, the immortal black serpent Koschche.

Just as Fyodor announced Kosiché's death sentence in the royal court, soldiers led by the captain of the royal guard escorted the ragged Kosiché out of the prison and to the crowded execution ground in the palace.

Talulah clicked her tongue, looking at the white-haired black snake standing on the execution ground, his expression still calm.

It was unbelievable. Talulah clearly remembered that the sword imbued with Originium Arts had indeed pierced Koschei's chest, pinning him firmly to the ducal throne forged in blood, the black serpent's blood staining the throne and the red carpet.

Talulah didn't confirm whether Koschei was truly dead, but a sword piercing his heart... how could he possibly survive?

"Do you really think you've hit the mark, Talulah?"

A voice suddenly rang out on the guillotine in the execution ground. Soldiers pressed his body down, wedging his slender neck into the guillotine's groove. Koschich, however, remained smiling, appearing completely calm.

“I know you are here, Talulah. I can see the flames burning on your body.”

Ignoring the guillotine lever held by the executioner, and disregarding the jeering and cursing crowd of Saint-Jun Castle below, Black Serpent's gaze seemed to pierce through countless people, striking directly at Talulah behind the human wall:

“I laughed at you back then. You can’t even hold a sword properly, you don’t even know that a person’s heart is on the left side, and you have no aim at all. How could you possibly kill me?”

He glanced at the crowd of Ursus onlookers. His disdainful gaze was as if he were looking at a herd of worthless livestock, as if he weren't the one being laughed at, but rather the crowd watching him like monkeys. He declared loudly:

"Just like you, you can't kill me either."

“I am the will of Ursus. You can kill this body, but as long as this will exists and there are people who agree with my ideas, I will not die.”

"Go ahead and watch my death and revel in it. Remember the heartfelt joy this bloody moment brings you. Remember it, and then, embrace that joy and spread it to more people. Until no more losers are sent to the guillotine, you will be the final victor! Violence, that is Ursus!"

Talulah stared in astonishment at the scene. He hadn't expected anyone to display such an expression when facing the threat of death, so arrogantly manipulating the public and spreading their delusions. His nonchalant attitude made it seem as if he were truly invincible.

"That's enough." The executioner reached out and slapped Kosiché across the face.

He was just an ordinary soldier without any rank, and his ability to secure the lucrative job of beheading people in the royal court was entirely due to his parents' connections—their family had been doing this for generations. While inheriting one's father's profession is often a forced choice, he was quite satisfied with the job.

Because no matter how high the status of the person kneeling on the guillotine was, when he stepped onto this fifty-square-meter guillotine, the power of his life and death was already in his own hands.

Well, that might not be entirely accurate. He doesn't have the right to decide whether a person should die. But he can decide whether that person dies easily or painfully. Whether it's a simple, clean cut, or three or four cuts while the person is still clinging to life, only able to watch their blood drain away, unable to utter a single word.

He had seen far too many powerful and influential people. Those on the guillotine always liked to utter impassioned words, because the greatest terror of life—death—was imminent. If they didn't say something to boost their morale, they would only end up wetting themselves in despair on the guillotine, losing all the prestige they had accumulated in their lives. This was especially true of those in higher positions. They all wanted to die with dignity.

The greatest pleasure for executioners is to play a lifelong joke on prisoners they don't like—you won't die with any dignity.

"What are you talking about? They'll remember you?" The executioner sneered, lifting the bucket and pouring it over Koschche's head. The cold water splashed onto Koschche's neck, the icy touch and heavy impact feeling as if the guillotine had already severed his neck.

A small rehearsal for death.

The executioner put down the bucket and continued, “They won’t remember you. At the lowest point of the year, nearly fifty people are executed at this execution ground. Out of 365 days a year, that’s an average of one person beheaded here every seven days. Your death is just a trivial amusement for them. In the long run, perhaps two weeks after your heads are on the ground, they won’t remember who you are. In the short run, after a busy week at St. Arthur’s Castle, what will they remember?”

"Thoughts? Look into their eyes, what thoughts can you see in them?"

The executioner laughed heartily:

"I can see that there's probably a sense of 'fun' in it. It treats nothing seriously, especially human life. It doesn't take it seriously at all."

Kosic glanced at him, then turned away: "The seeds will sprout, and the image will be etched in their hearts."

"Do you remember the first person you personally executed?" the executioner asked.

Kosiché didn't answer. The executioner gave a sinister chuckle: "But I remember, I even remember the first prisoner our executioner family executed. He was a missionary who preached that his ideas would spread throughout the land and never disappear. Then he died, and now, if I hadn't mentioned him to you, you wouldn't even know who he was or what his ideas were."

"You're nothing but a guy abandoned by the Empire, and your thoughts are scrap discarded by the Empire. The Empire is a towering structure, and you're just fuel to keep it running. Don't be so arrogant; you don't represent the Empire."

The executioner placed his hand on the lever, looked up at the gleaming guillotine in the sunlight, and said in a deep voice:

"In the end, people will only notice how imposing the completed tower is; no one will care what kind of stones it was made of or what style it was built in. Do you understand?"

The executioner looked at Kosich, who turned his head away, wanting to debate with this executioner who was full of philosophical musings, but his gaze suddenly fell on the strange golden light flashing in the executioner's eyes.

Kosiché's eyes widened suddenly, and an incredulous voice escaped his throat:

"dimension--"

Stopped abruptly.

The golden-eyed executioner released the lever, watching the head tumble off the guillotine and into the pre-prepared pocket. He wiped his hands, a disdainful smirk playing on his lips. His spiritual energy spread out, enveloping the undead black serpent trying to escape.

"I won't let you say it, I'll make you choke!"

Task completed, work done.

The golden-eyed executioner raised his head and gave a less-than-perfect Ursus military salute to the crowd below. Coincidentally, his smile and the direction of his salute were directly facing Talulah.

Victoria, Lentinium, Wayne Bedroom.

Wayne slowly opened his eyes, the golden light fading from his pupils, and he rubbed his forehead wearily.

Well, although Saint-Germain and Lontinim are connected and not too far apart, it is still a bit tiring to use mental energy to prevent the black snake from escaping from a great distance.

However, it felt much better to kill the black snake myself.

Chapter 178 Count Me In

"Phew—that feels good."

Wien stretched as he walked out of the bedroom, circled the corridor twice, and arrived at the Royal Private Library.

When Theresa returned, she told him something unexpected—Originium Arts, besides being inherited through family bloodlines and self-awakening, can actually be learned through systematic education. The reason why the Letanians are said to be masters of magic is because they have a complete educational system for Originium Arts.

This is very interesting information. If Originium Arts can be learned in many ways, could Wayne master multiple Originium Arts at the same time?

As a talent-based Originium Arts, the Mandate of Heaven is one of the most criticized mental-type Originium Arts. Mental-type Originium Arts are either extremely powerful or extremely weak, but without exception, they are objects of fear, taboo, and rejection. Wayne, concerned about his image, couldn't openly display the Mandate of Heaven in public, but without an Originium Arts to conceal it, suspicion would inevitably arise. Therefore, he decided to find a book and learn one himself.