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

After regaining her composure, she suppressed the burning anger within her and asked as calmly as possible, "Why?"

Reed gripped Celt's hand tightly, raised her other hand, and pointed to the television behind her. The wall-mounted TV was playing Victoria's famous impromptu talk show. A handsome, articulate presenter held the microphone, gesturing wildly and making exaggerated movements. His face displayed a constant stream of expressions—surprise, joy, and mockery—he was doing everything in his power to entertain the audience. The people in the live audience roared with laughter; whenever the camera focused on them, they were always doubled over with laughter.

Celt watched the program for a while, a disdainful expression on his face. He criticized, "This is the corruption of Victoria. They're clearly in the middle of a war, but there's not a shred of tension. They can't even muster the unity and determination to give it their all. How could they possibly defeat us?"

Just then, the program entered a transition phase, and a line of titles made of various special characters flashed by at the bottom of the program, instantly freezing Celtic's disdainful expression.

The talk show was titled "The Westlife Show - Let's Laugh at Deep Pool Tonight."

"Your all-out opponent is treating you like a joke."

The reeds did not make a sound, but the Celts seemed to hear her and understand what she meant.

Silence is the greatest contempt. The opponent you thought was equal, whom you thought you could defeat with all your might, not only doesn't care about you, but even has the mood to make fun of you. The residents of Victoria were not panicked by the appearance of the deep pool, and panic and chaos did not spread in the core cities led by Londinium. People continued to live their normal lives as if they had never appeared at all.

Celtic angrily tried to turn off the TV, but before she could get up, Reed's hand grabbed her and pulled her back onto the bed.

"Lafsini, is this what you usually watch in your room?" Celtic was furious. Surrenderism was a ideology she strictly controlled, and all surrenderists in the deep pool would be "judged" by her, but her sister was actually a surrenderist.

"You think what's said here makes a lot of sense? You really think we can't defeat Aslan?"

“That’s not all.” Reed spoke seriously, her voice unusually high, two decibels above Celtic’s. “Sister, Deeppool can’t possibly win. What are you relying on? Victoria is currently undergoing reforms, and people’s lives are improving. You once told me that the decisive factors for Deeppool’s victory over Victoria were the corrupt nobles, the oppressed commoners, the rebellious Tara people, and a flag! But now, calm down and look at us, what do we have left!?”

"The corrupt nobles have been purged three times. The biggest wave they stirred up was the blockade of the North imposed by the Grand Duke of Normandy. Now they are barely clinging to life."

"The oppressed common people have benefited the most from the reforms. Many of the strategies my brother devised have now proven to be entirely beneficial to the common people. Why would they abandon their current lives and launch a rebellion?"

"And the rebellious Tara people... Sister, did you ever truly consider the Tara people as your own people?"

"Of course..."

"Why deliberately incite riots when we considered them our compatriots, ultimately leading to the Hillshire garrison dropping dirty bombs on the city? The city was mostly inhabited by Tara people, the Victoria garrison had already withdrawn, and we knew there were dirty bombs at the garrison camp."

"You just want to use this method to make the garrison take the blame, and then appear as a savior, is that it?"

Reed's piercing question seemed to prick Celtic's soft spot. She suddenly raised her hand, wanting to strike, but her palm stopped beside Reed's cheek, hesitating to actually fall.

Reed pressed her face against Celtic's hand, her clear, pure blue eyes saying, "We have nothing left now but the flag."

Celt took a deep breath, withdrew her hand, stood up, and turned her back to the reeds, not daring to let her see her expression. After a long while, she finally spoke:

"If you're not going, I'll go by myself."

"leader!"

There was a sudden knock on the door, and a soldier's voice sounded outside, somewhat heavy.

"Lahmone and Lord Mandra have returned. The operation failed. Lontinim sent reinforcements. The raiding party, the accountant, the poison scholar, and six other lords were all wiped out. Fortunately, no one survived."

"The Victorian army is currently conducting a clearing operation around Hillshire. The enemy could discover our location at any time. Lord Mandela will cover your retreat. Please be prepared..."

The soldier seemed to say something else, but Celt couldn't hear anything.

Just then, the talk show on TV came to an end amidst laughter and cheerful chatter. Accompanied by a light and pleasant melody, the next program was not the scheduled morning news, but a special news segment.

"To all the dear citizens of Victoria, I am Winston, Director of the Royal Institute of Victorian History. It is with a heavy heart that I announce to all the citizens of Victoria some regrettable news."

"Following repeated confirmations by the Royal Historical Institute of the Victorian Empire, the once glorious Victorian Drak royal bloodline has now been completely extinguished. The last descendant of the Drak bloodline—Miss Talulah Atrias—recently returned to Londinium after her exile in Ursus. After repeated negotiations with Aslan, a consensus was reached: Miss Talulah, on behalf of the Drak royal family, will renounce the Victorian Succession Treaty signed in Londinium, thus relinquishing the Drak's right to inherit the Victorian throne. The Victorian Aslan royal family will become the legitimate Victorian royal family from this day forward and forever. The legitimate royal family will bear all living expenses related to the current and future lives of the Drak descendants and promises to permanently preserve the royal title and honor of the Drak royal family, and to build a memorial city for them—Drak City. The treaty abrogation ceremony will be officially held at the Londinium Royal Park at the beginning of the new year, allowing Victorian citizens to attend and broadcasting it live throughout Terra."

Dressed in a white robe embroidered with gold thread, resembling an old sage from a fairy tale, Victoria's oldest man, Winster, bowed solemnly to the camera.

"Thank you to the Royal Family of Draco for their great contributions to Victoria. Victoria will remember you forever in history."

Signal cut off.

Reed silently read through all the speeches, then murmured:

"Now, we don't even have a flag."

Chapter Twenty-Four: Shall we use the Flame Fist on capitalists and nobles?

"boom!"

Celt slammed her fist into the wall, and the innate strength of the Drak people instantly created a cracked fist mark on the villa wall. Not only that, but her fist was also burning with raging flames, burning a conspicuous black hole into the white wall.

Anger, nothing else existed in his mind but anger; the Celt had never been so angry in his life.

What happened? Where did this so-called descendant of Drak come from? Talulah Atrias? Wasn't the name Atrias long ago extinct?

The affair between Wei Yanwu and Edward might be considered a secret among the lower classes, but Celt clearly did not belong to that class. She knew perfectly well that Edward had been killed by Wei Yanwu, but why did no one tell her that Edward had a daughter?

"No, it's probably fake, it must be fake. Talulah? What evidence does she have to prove she's Edward's daughter, what evidence does she have to represent Draco, to represent us?"

Historically, King Drakgal was once represented by King Drak of Lontinim and signed a truce with Aslan. Now, she has finally made a comeback, but she is once again represented by the Lontinim faction. Moreover, this time she has gone even further and directly relinquished her right of succession.

What a joke! When did the Draco line die out? I'm perfectly fine, and I still have Raphsini. So what if it's just the two of us? We're still Draco, aren't we?

“Sister,” Reed suddenly spoke, bringing Celt back to his senses from his anger, “Brother, did you go to Lungmen a while ago?”

“So what…” Celtic’s retort was cut short, like a fishbone stuck in her throat. The oppressive feeling of an ominous premonition rising in her heart almost suffocated her. “Wait, Raphsini, what are you saying? You mean to say that Wayne went to Lungmen to… to…”

"To find [evidence]." Following her principle of saying what others dared not say, Reed pointed out the speculation Celt was unwilling to voice: "What if brother went to Lungmen to find evidence? If anyone in the world knows anything about Uncle Edward, it can only be Wei Yanwu, right?"

"Sister, think about what Wei Yanwu has been doing lately?"

Celtic's lips trembled slightly as he fell into a long daze.

Celtic really didn't know what Wei Yanwu had been doing during this time. Everything that happened in Lungmen was not within Celtic's concern, who was focused on Victoria. However, there was one piece of information that even someone who didn't care about Lungmen and Yan Kingdom's affairs couldn't possibly be completely unaware of.

"Wei Yanwu issued a proclamation and raised an army to quell the rebellion."

Celt exclaimed incredulously, only now realizing the sheer amount of information contained in this news about Wei Yanwu. Why did Wei Yanwu dare to raise an army? Who was behind him? What gave him such confidence?

According to reports from informants within Lontinem, a private flight from Lonmen recently arrived at Royal Westminster International Airport. At the time, this news went unreported and seemed unrelated to Deeppool's recent plans, so Celtic ignored it. However, it now appears that Wei Yanwu may have reached some kind of agreement with Wayne, perhaps obtaining some support or promise in return, which gives him the confidence to launch a rebellion. And what benefits could Wayne have gained from Wei Yanwu?

A city lord cannot promise power or wealth to an empire's leader. What Wei Yanwu can offer, and what Wayne also wants, is self-evident: the evidence that Wei Cao mentioned.

Celtic thought that his sudden attack with Deeppool had caught Wayne off guard, but he did not expect that Wayne had already begun to plan and scheme. Celtic's initiative was nothing more than walking into a trap.

"No, something's not right."

Celtic sat on the edge of the bed, holding her head in her hands, and suddenly realized that she had overlooked a crucial point.

Since Wayne had already begun planning, gathered the three necessary elements of a Drak successor, Drak royal artifacts, and domestic political stability, and had already decided to hold a ceremony at the beginning of the new year to abolish Drak's right of succession, then his rebellion was actually within his expectations.

Deeppool wouldn't sit idly by and wait for his fate; he couldn't just watch chains be placed around his neck. After the ceremony abolishing his inheritance, he wouldn't be able to accept the outcome and would definitely rise up in rebellion. It wasn't that Celt was boasting; she always had a very clear understanding of her own character. The reason she raised an army before the ceremony was entirely due to the support and urging of several "Grand Dukes" she had contacted.

They claimed that Lontinim had just separated from Saint-Germain, and the two countries were not far apart. If an attack were launched now, plunging Victoria into chaos, the nearby Ursus Empire would certainly be alarmed, and Deeppool might gain a powerful ally. They also claimed that Letania, Syracuse, Bolivar, and a number of other countries currently under the Victorian world order were already deeply dissatisfied with the Aslan monarchy, and if a suitable banner were raised, they would soon flock to their side. They further stated that the Victorian aristocratic system would also be of assistance.

They knew perfectly well that Wayne was prepared! Yet they still kept making promises to Deeppool, urging him to launch an attack when he was unprepared, only to be annihilated by the well-prepared Wayne!

Celtic suddenly realized, but this clarity after clearing up her doubts did not bring her joy or relief; instead, it made her even angrier and more disheartened.

They—her so-called supporters—had no intention of truly supporting the Drak royal family; they simply wanted to weaken the Aslan royal power!

“All they want is this flag,” Celt murmured, his mind in turmoil. “They just want us to stand up, to raise the banner of Drak, to tell all of Terra that Drak is still alive, to turn Wayne’s long-planned ceremony into a self-directed joke, and to let Aslan’s hard-won imperial power once again plummet to rock bottom in a farce. As for what happens to us after that, they don’t care.”

Therefore, they forced us to launch the attack ahead of schedule, in order to do so before Wayne announced the abolition of Drak's right of succession. Once Wayne succeeded, the matter would become a foregone conclusion, and the last remaining purpose of the Deep Pool—to disrupt Victoria through legal claims—would disappear.

The nobles' smiling faces, their praising words, and their solemn promises all seemed to turn into mocking laughter in their ears.

Celt felt as if an invisible mask had been placed on her face, and her wishful thinking was being used as a bargaining chip to be casually pushed onto the gambling table, to participate in a game in which the dealer (Wayne) had already cheated.

A sudden pang of sadness welled up in her heart, and Celtic quickly turned away, not wanting Reed to see her vulnerable side. At least in front of Reed, she didn't want to project that wise, righteous, and superior image.

Although the reeds had never looked at her like that before.

"Sister, listen to me."

Reed rose from the bed, walked behind Celt, wrapped her fair arms around his neck, rested her head on his slightly trembling shoulder, listening to his soft sobs, and whispered in his ear,

"Just for my sake, let's use the Flame Fist on capitalists and nobles, shall we?"

PS: Weekend time for gaming.

Synopsis: My name is Lu Ming, and I am a transmigrator. Today is my 1095th day as captain. There are more and more Valkyries, but I am still single. I work diligently every day and travel between different worlds in my Hyperion.

If I hadn't known beforehand that Honkai Impact 3rd was a citrus-themed game, I would have definitely thought that the Valkyries all liked me.

But now, with Alicia boarding the ship, my single life is over. I'm showing off my pink fairy-like girlfriend to my employees, but for some reason, I have a chill down my spine.

Bronya, why did you raise the heavy cannon?

Black Seele, why are you wielding a scythe in my dreams?

Loyal ninja Yae Kasumi, why have you been so distracted at work lately?

Crimson Iris Immortal, are you going to teach me a move called "Immortal Touches My Head"? What kind of move is that?

Chapter Twenty-Five: Your Highness, the carriage is ready.

Where have you seen reeds?

Wayne asked seriously. Even Wayne didn't know the whereabouts of Reed. He only knew that she was in the Dublin area, and after the Deeppool Rebellion, she disappeared without a trace. Now that Wernart had suddenly mentioned Reed, Wayne couldn't help but take it seriously.

Wenat didn't keep them in suspense; after confirming Reed's identity, he immediately replied:

"Your Highness, Miss Reed is currently near Little Hill County!"

“Where is the vicinity of Little Hill County?” Wayne asked. Although Little Hill County is only a medium-sized mobile city and is not located on a major transportation route, it is still quite large. Theresis’s troops are still on their way and have not yet arrived. With only the troops stationed in Little Hill County, Wayne can’t possibly search the entire county.

Wenat paused, opened his mouth, and after a long while, finally replied:

"Start from the south of the garrison camp, enter the center of Little Hill County, cross the central square, turn at the statue, proceed along the ruins of a red house, turn right after seeing a large pine tree, keep going, cross three moving blocks, cross the outer agricultural block, and you will reach the local parish. There is a villa in the sunflower field behind the parish, and Prince Reed is there."

Wayne paused for a moment, then turned to look at Theresa. Theresa's lips twitched. "I've got it, but isn't this route a bit strange? There aren't any specific coordinates?"

Wenat bowed his head apologetically: "I'm sorry, Your Highness, even this escape route was told to me by Miss Reed, and I'm not sure if it's a roundabout way. Because I had to evade the patrolling Deeppool soldiers, I didn't have time to memorize a detailed map..."

The reeds pointed out his escape route.

Wayne nodded, not blaming the unreliable Wenat too much at this crucial moment. It was already quite an achievement for him to escape death. When Reed gave him directions, he must have gone through a lot of trouble to avoid the surveillance posts and patrols. The route was bound to be complicated. Rather, it was a testament to Sir Wenat's strong memory and good fortune that he was able to remember this complicated route and escape the search unscathed back to the safe zone.

Wayne instructed Theresa:

“Theresia, you and I will set off immediately and search along this route. At the same time, have Kal'tsit get a map from Hamilton and analyze Deeppool’s possible retreat routes. Have her lead the garrison to surround Deeppool.”

Theresa nodded. "Just the two of us?"

Wayne affirmed, "It's just the two of us. I'll use Originium Arts if necessary, so it's best to keep this secret to a minimum."

Theresa showed a knowing look, turned around, and quickly left the tent. Wayne then turned back to Sir Wenat and said:

"I have a few questions for you now, questions that directly concern the fate of Deeppool. Please answer them truthfully. Do you understand?"