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

A minute passed, then two, and time seemed to drag on endlessly for Wenat. The banquet hall was in complete chaos. The nobles rushed towards the door in fear, only to be stopped by Wenat's shouts, forced to huddle against the wall, watching the office from which Baron Bolton's scream had just echoed. The office door was ajar, and sounds of fighting emanated from within. Bright red blood seeped through the cracks, reflecting an eerie light on the gleaming floor. Suddenly, a loud but weak roar echoed from inside. Wenat instinctively glanced at his watch, realizing that only five minutes had passed.

Five minutes later, the outcome was decided inside the door. Wenat swallowed hard, his face grim as he watched the door slowly open. The worst possible result was laid bare before him.

A petite woman with brown hair, named Felin, had bruises all over her face, with blood streaming from her mouth and forehead. There was also a clearly visible fist mark on her chest. She was coughing incessantly, as if she were coughing up her lungs, indicating that her internal injuries were far more severe than her external injuries.

But she walked out standing up.

In her hand, a crumpled list was forcibly shoved into the mouth of the slightly overweight man, who was no longer recognizable. She then tossed him into the center of the banquet hall, and a spell was cast. The three-tiered crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling crashed down, smashing the body of the former Baron Bolton into a pile of mangled flesh.

"What a hassle, cough cough... that idiot Ahmoni, she wanted me to handle this secretly, and she almost killed me."

Mandela wiped the blood from her lips, raised her head, and glanced at the nobles before instantly adopting a haughty demeanor. She spoke imperiously:

"See what happens to traitors? Now tell me, who is Wenat?"

As Wenat watched the nobles quickly disperse around him, he took a deep breath, pulled out his long-unused short-handled cane—his staff—and resolutely stepped forward, meeting Mandela's gaze.

At that moment, he was very clear

—The war began, and they were the first to fall.

P.S.: The counterattack begins in the next chapter!

They actually dared to assassinate the special envoy! These are no ordinary mobs; we must strike hard!

P.S.: That cat is truly despicable. In the original storyline, he killed the cellist from the Horn Squad, I think, and Horn's current fate is unknown. The Hillshire garrison and these rebels are all bad news. One is patriotic but severely discriminatory, firing dirty bombs into the city; the other is a terrorist, carrying out attacks everywhere. Neither of them are good people.

P.S.: I won't accept this from a cat. Nor will I accept it from Ahmoni.

Chapter Seven: Wayne was enraged by Deeppool's pretentious attitude!

Victoria, Londinim, Iron Palace. 9:00 a.m., December 26.

Wayne got up very early; he usually didn't sleep in if he had something to do the next day. Otherwise, on a holiday like this, he would still be struggling with the heating in bed, instead of battling sleep with bitter coffee in a restaurant.

During holidays, most organizations don't work, and even those that have to work don't start until nine o'clock. The intelligence department in Londinium is like that, although there are always people on duty. As soon as Wayne officially settled into his office at precisely nine o'clock, the intelligence department immediately submitted the report Wayne had been eagerly awaiting.

The letter, titled "Investigation Report on the Hillshire Incident," was sent by Werner Leo. Wayne weaved around the rolled-up threads of the document and pulled out the densely written report.

"Your Highness the Prince of Wales..."

Instead of the usual honorifics, Wayne skipped the entire paragraph of flattery and praise, determined to make Venat correct this habit of sycophantic behavior before even writing a letter, once Venat returned to Londinium. He had done a good job on his mission; Wayne was already planning to award him a medal. If he could take the initiative to correct this unhealthy trend of ostentatious flattery within the noble circles, Wayne might even promote him.

There aren't many nobles left in Victoria these days. Otherwise, a medium-sized mobile city like Little Hills wouldn't be without a lord. It's all because the previous lord, a marquess, was involved in the Normandy Dukes' rebellion and was stripped of his water meter by the Unicorn. Now, many cities in Victoria lack a suitable leader. Sir Venat is hardworking, capable, and efficient; Wayne wouldn't mind appointing him.

Wayne read downwards, his brows gradually furrowing.

Hillshire has experienced three riots to date. Two occurred in the agricultural area, resulting in 12 soldier casualties. The last tavern riot, the one that caught Wayne's attention, along with the subsequent attack on the military camp, resulted in the deaths of 7 soldiers. This was no small incident. In Wayne's previous life, even a simple accident involving ordinary civilians, let alone the military, would have been considered a major incident with such high casualties.

Moreover, according to Wenat's speculation, there was also instigation from an unknown force...

"Ok?"

Wayne frowned, looking at the marks on the report with some confusion.

It wasn't that anything was damaged or dirty; quite the opposite, someone had added a note to Wenat's handwriting. The delicate, flowing handwriting clearly belonged to a well-educated young woman, and what she wrote made Wayne's heart skip a beat.

[Instigated by an unknown force (annotated in handwriting above: Deep Pond).]

"Deep Pond... Should I say I'm not surprised?"

Wayne sighed. Faced with this outcome, he could only say it was to be expected. Deeppool's presence in Victoria was definitely not a recent development. Their power was certainly considerable, and there were likely high-ranking combatants within the Deeppool Group. Wayne had previously sent Unicorn to Dublin to investigate Deeppool and, incidentally, to find Reed's whereabouts, but to no avail.

Unicorns are in the intelligence business. While Wayne cultivated Babel Tower into a nascent individual power, he never intended to abandon such a useful organization as Unicorns. They are experienced, powerful, and spread throughout Victoria and across Terra. Relying on them, Wayne's intelligence work has always been highly effective. Basically, whenever there is any movement anywhere in the land, he can receive investigation reports delivered to his desk immediately.

Otherwise, how do you think Wayne knew and handled all that information, such as the Colombian Federation of Trade Unions and the League, the Knights Tournament in Casimir, and the nationalization of enterprises in Ursus?

And since they found nothing, it's clear that there must be someone even more powerful beyond the deep pool—perhaps some ancient being who has been contemplating the future? Or perhaps some secret relic?

Wayne wasn't sure, but he wasn't too worried. Perhaps in the past, anything involving immortals wouldn't be a small matter, but now, above the immortals are demons, and above the demons is the Fourth Calamity, Wayne. He'd take them down one by one, or two by two.

Deeppool's shadow was behind the Hillsshire riots, a fact Wayne had long suspected. The Duke of Normandy's rebellion had also been linked to Deeppool; the Earl of Princeton, who had betrayed his own father, had only dared to rebel against Vina because of his status as Reed. Little did he expect that the one supporting the rightful heir to the King in the North, leading the army to suppress the rebellion, would be the King in the North's own son. A blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse—a classic case of an old man eating poison—it was suicidal.

But the identity of the person who added this handwriting is intriguing. The envoy's handwriting was intended for the royal family, involving matters of national importance, and confidentiality was paramount. Yet, an unfamiliar character appeared in the notebook. Furthermore, judging from the added content, this young woman seemed to know quite a bit.

Wayne put aside his doubts for the time being and continued reading.

Sir Wernart summarized the cause, process, and outcome of the matter, and finally focused on mentioning the "Tara language and the Tara people" to Wayne.

It was a language of a minority group. Wayne didn't think it was a big deal; in his previous life, he had studied English, and even was quite good at it, yet he hadn't become an "elite." However, Wenat's concerns weren't unfounded. The Tara people could have their own language, but when speaking with outsiders, they couldn't use it specifically for demonstrations. Even less could they use it to insult their country and those who had dedicated themselves to it.

"It seems necessary to promote 'Mandarin'."

Wien realized that the social structure of mobile cities meant that isolationism and separatism were not uncommon even within nations like Terra. Therefore, popularizing Mandarin was a higher priority than in his previous life. Standardizing writing, cart axles, and weights and measures was crucial for national cohesion and for fully leveraging the country's vast organizational and productive capacity. He decided to entrust this task to Vina for assistance.

That was it. Wayne closed the report, sat down in his office chair, and pondered how to resolve the Deeppool issue. The ceremony five days later would be a devastating blow to Deeppool's legitimacy, but completely eradicating the organization would require some more maneuvering.

Just as Wayne was pondering, the door was suddenly pushed open, and Kal'tsit rushed into the office with another report in hand, followed by Theresa and Vina. Less than half a minute after they burst in, before they could even speak, Ernest and Arthur hurriedly called Wayne, hastily reporting, "I'll be right there," before hanging up. Wayne blinked, looking at the sudden intrusion and the imminent arrival of almost the entire upper echelon of Victoria, his relaxed expression fading, and asked:

"What's wrong, Kal'tsit?"

“Your Highness…” Kal'tsit placed the report on the table, walked around to the desk next to Wayne, opened the report for him, and said, “Little Hill County sent a report last night, did you read it?”

“I saw it. Isn’t this it?” Wayne waved the report in his hand. “Wernat and Kant did a great job. I’m planning to go see Vina later and give them an award or something when they get back.”

"They probably won't be coming back."

Kal'tsit pursed her lips.

“We are not talking about a report, Your Highness.”

"Your copy is the Hillshire Incident Investigation Report, while mine is... the 'Report of the Victoria Hillshire Garrison on Requesting Armed Support from Londinium.'"

Armed support?

Wayne paused, then became serious. Armed support was no joke. Due to the unique nature of mobile cities, Victoria maintained a small but effective garrison in each city. This garrison was responsible for handling local terrorist attacks, major security incidents, emergency evacuations following natural disasters, and maintaining city security and curfews. Armed support, on the other hand, was requested when the local garrison determined it was insufficient to handle local unrest on its own, thus necessitating a request for assistance from the capital, Londinium, requesting the dispatch of the nearest available troops.

Hasn't the investigation in Hillsshire been almost complete? The cause of the riots has also been found: it was Deeppool's instigation.

Wait, deep pool!

Kal'tsit read aloud the words from the application report:

[I am McMartin, codename "The Cook," the Victorian military liaison officer stationed in Hillsshire. Hillsshire was attacked yesterday by an unknown force. Colonel Hamilton's garrison was ambushed by an unidentified group of sorcerers, and the barracks were set on fire by local Tara civilians. The enemy has overwhelming firepower, a large number of troops, and even possesses modified Victorian standard weaponry. Colonel Hamilton, without prior notification, indiscriminately bombed the town with modified Originium bombs, resulting in heavy casualties. The fighting continues. However, as the liaison officer, I regret to inform you that the Hillsshire garrison is currently unable to handle the escalating situation and request immediate troop support from Londinium!]

Below are some photos taken by the "Chef McMartin" liaison amidst the chaos.

The sky was pitch black, with dust from the high concentration of Originium floating hundreds of meters above, forming Originium clouds that blotted out the sun, like a torrential downpour. The crumbling houses resembled trees struck by lightning, one corner blackened while the rest retained their original brown color. Within them stood terrifyingly large Originium crystals, looking like the ferocious claws of a beast; even the slightest touch would inflict a agonizing Oripathy.

The streets were filled with civilians fleeing in panic, and Deeppool soldiers dressed in dark green robes and wearing bizarre, half-covered masks. Victoria's soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, seemingly lifeless. Most infuriatingly, almost none of them were intact.

In the center of the square, where a statue once stood, a petite Felin stood atop what was now half a statue. She stood taller than anyone else, haughtily surveying everything. Her staff was raised high above her head, and summoned pebbles floated around her, shooting towards the fleeing civilians and Victorian soldiers in all directions. The high-speed pebbles were as powerful as bullets fired from a professional sniper rifle, easily tearing apart any part of a human body and reaping a life. Clearly, most of the incomplete corpses were the result of her magic.

At the edge of the statue at her feet hangs the name of the owner of one of the statues that Wayne had just mentioned.

Even through the photograph, Wayne could see the disdain in her eyes; she didn't even glance down at the lives she had killed as she swung her staff.

Vina had obviously already seen the photo. The report was sent to the Queen's office as quickly as possible, and then seen by Theresa and Kal'tsit, who were helping out in the Queen's office. The two then notified Ernest and Arthur, the heads of the military and political circles, and then quickly went to Wayne's office.

Wayne has received it too. He received the devastating news.

“This is a rebellion, brother.”

"Vina said coldly. She wasn't flustered. As the Empress, she should be calm, she should be angry, but she shouldn't be flustered. She was no longer a child, and the anger in her eyes as she looked at Wayne showed her stance."

Wayne took a long, deep breath, then let out a long sigh.

He put down the report, slammed his fist on the table, and remained deeply troubled for a long time.

He wasn't unfamiliar with dead people or rebellions, but this almost blatant provocation, this arrogant and overbearing attitude, was simply outrageous.

"This is a rebellion! And not just an ordinary riot!"

"Someone is plotting to split our country! They are no ordinary thugs; they are enemies of Victoria! We must strike hard!"

Beep beep beep beep—

Wayne was enraged by Deeppool's pretentious attitude!

PS: Today's chapters are 5000 and 4000 words each, lots of content to satisfy everyone.

PS: I will update twice a day as long as I don't take leave. If I don't update twice in one day, I will say so in the title or author's note.

PS: The deep pool won't kill all the animals; at least the reeds will definitely be left.

PS: Some people asked why Mandra is so pretentious. Actually, she was pretentious in the original storyline. In the original story, she was described as someone who scorned nobility and bloodlines, yet revered the bloodline of her leader (Reed's sister) as divine. This scumbag cat was ruthless in killing; when Horn (the Victoria Stormtroopers, part of the main cast, but not yet implemented) was on the communications tower, she ambushed and killed one of her members, and Bagpipe was almost killed as well. Horn covered their retreat, allowing Bagpipe to escape. She also verbally abused Raphsini, Reed, saying that besides her face being the same as the leader's, she was a piece of trash and shouldn't exist in this world, causing Reed to become withdrawn and depressed, even after arriving on the island. This scumbag cat is the second Mephistopheles, even more ruthless. I calculate that Mephistopheles' personality could be corrected and he could be saved, but Mandra is beyond saving. May this scumbag cat be worshipped.

Chapter Eight: The Queen's Speech: Declaration of War!

The night of December 26, 1092 in the Terra calendar.

When the people of Victoria, after a long day's work, return home and turn on the television to enjoy a hearty dinner with their families while watching entertainment, they are surprised to find that all the news programs in Victoria, from the most official Victorian television station to the smaller local county stations, are uniformly in black and white, playing a somber piece of music on a loop.

The only color on the television was a striking text written in a gradient of black and red that seemed to be burning: "Deepest condolences to the twenty-three Victorian soldiers who bravely sacrificed their lives in the attack by terrorists in Little Hills, as well as the countless heroic fighters, citizens of Victoria, and international friends who swore to defend Victoria's homeland to the death. Victoria will forever remember your sacrifices and contributions, and your names will be engraved on the monument in the center square of Little Hills—after the great Victorian soldiers crushed the reckless rebels!"

Countless curious Victorian citizens logged onto the city network, eager to learn what exactly happened in the Little Hills incident that warranted such a solemn commemoration. They opened their computers or mobile phones, connected to Victoria's city network, and without even needing to search, LINE, browsers, and even the homepages of various forums were already dominated by the Little Hills incident.

Citizens clicked on the most prominent account, whose profile picture featured a red dragon and a lion, and whose name belonged to the Victorian Empire's Propaganda Department. Before them appeared a video and a complete accompanying text. The video featured the leader known and respected throughout Victoria, the great Queen Vina Bruce.

The video started playing automatically, and Vina's melodious voice rang out, delivering a shocking message right from the start:

"A message to all citizens of Victoria! Yesterday, December 25, 1092—which will no longer be Lateran’s Christmas Day, but rather a day of national shame for Victoria—the Victorian Empire was subjected to a premeditated and sudden attack by the Deeppool Restoration Organization."

"We know nothing about the Deeppool organization. We don't know where it came from, who its leader is, or what banner it flies. The legitimate government of Victoria had never received any negotiations or notifications from Deeppool before this attack. The enemy just appeared suddenly and attacked our city without explanation, waking our government, our officials, and millions of Victorian citizens from their sleep and dragging them into a disaster!"

Vina's voice was incredibly heavy. After continuous and diligent practice, she had finally mastered the speaking skills expected of a politician and a queen. At this moment, almost the entire population of Victoria was listening to their queen's voice. Even though the audio was pre-recorded, no one chose to drag the mouse or move their finger. People's emotions were immersed in the hellish scene described by Vina.

"Yesterday, the Deeppool organization launched an attack on Little Hill County."

"Last night, the Deeppool Group launched an attack on Edinburghshire."

"Last night, Deeppool launched an attack on Leipzig County."

"Deeppool launched an attack on United County Essex last night."

"Last night, Deeppool organized an attack on the Archipelago County."

"This morning, according to the latest news received by Lentinium, the Deeppool Organization has officially captured Dublin County, the former emperor's capital and the second largest city in Victoria's previous era, which has now fallen into enemy hands!"

"As of the time of this speech, according to incomplete statistics, the number of Victorian citizens who have lost their lives in this series of attacks has reached 50,000, including your relatives and friends, our compatriots, workers, businessmen, students, and the local Victorian garrison soldiers who fought bravely to protect them until their deaths! We mourn them, the Royal Family mourns them, and the nation mourns them."

Vina took a step to the right, walked out from behind the podium, closed her eyes, lowered her head, and remained silent for a full minute.

The citizens, finally snapping out of their shock, realized what had just happened while they were studying or working. They also began to wonder why Her Majesty the Queen, standing on the podium, had lowered her noble head.