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

"Devil, you should go back to your hell. The dead should lie peacefully in their coffins, waiting to be burned! What grudge do you hold that you have to interfere in the human world?!"

Wayne raised his head and said inexplicably, "Two minutes left, you continue. Remember to tell the truth, speak your mind."

“I’ll continue, hehe,” the nobleman rambled incoherently, “You’ll be heading back to your hell in two minutes, won’t you? You came here for revenge? So what? We still killed you, didn’t we? How did the arrows of Xuan Tie taste? Did you think of me when you died? Let me tell you, not just me, but many, many, many more! Sir Raven, Earl Anning, the Governor-General of the East, Captain Sikma, General Michel…”

The nobleman rattled off name after name like a machine gun, and Wayne nodded in satisfaction, pulling out a pen from his breast pocket and quickly adding a new entry to the list.

A new list, a new list, a new list, and yet another new list. The list grew longer and longer, and the nobleman's face grew increasingly terrified. He suddenly realized that his throat was making sounds on its own, his tongue was moving its own rhythm, and he was uncontrollably uttering the names of one high-ranking official after another. Those he knew, he spat them out; those he didn't know, he marked them one by one with terms like "high-ranking official," "gentleman," and "behind-the-scenes contact." When he had emptied his chest of all the contents, he took a deep breath and gasped violently, much faster than before!

He looked up, as if he had thought of something, and said to Wayne:

"Incredible! You'll go to hell, you devil! You colluded with the Sarkaz just to gain this evil power! You're a demon..."

"Alas!" A shrill scream came from behind the nobleman, interrupting his accusation.

Wayne glanced at his watch and nodded: "Five minutes are up."

Five minutes? What five minutes?

The nobleman's voice suddenly caught in his throat. As if realizing something, he turned his head tremblingly and looked into the distance at the end of the street corner in the park. That was the direction in which Grand Duke Ankhbad had fled, the "path to survival" that the nobles had finally discovered.

There, a figure swayed and drifted, like a kite with a broken string. The lamppost at the street corner cast a long, long shadow of him.

Grand Duke Ankhbad's feet left the ground and never touched it again. The white ribbon hanging from the lamppost seemed like a thread leading him to heaven. He floated, he swayed, his long shadow like a stairway to godhood. Grand Duke Ankhbad turned his back on all those still in "hell" and departed first. He ascended like an angel.

At this moment, the nobles realized that the two sentences in Wayne's opening remarks were not empty words.

"I'll give you five minutes to explain, and then I'll decide whether you go to heaven or hell."

Wien repeated softly, like a kind old father disciplining a disobedient child. He pointed to the trembling nobleman and smiled:

"Stop looking, you have thirty seconds left."

"Is the clock set? I've reminded you repeatedly."

"Say something, or count down with me now: 29, 28, 27..."

Chapter 52 The Celtic Determination

After witnessing the fate of the two traitors, the crowd seemed to finally quiet down. The nobles stopped barking, the foreign guests were slowly dispersed, and as one person after another went to heaven or hell, the park, which had been crowded not long ago, was now empty once again.

Wayne wiped the sweat from his brow. The trial was only the first step; not a single traitor involved in the conspiracy, who sold out his country for personal gain, could escape. Wayne gazed at the lampposts now laden with figures—men and women, young and old, some high-ranking and powerful, others lowly and insignificant. Towards the end of the trial, they began spontaneously and completely confessing their crimes. Even without Wayne's divine mandate, their blank minds could effortlessly recount every detail of the thousands of conspiracies they had orchestrated since the King of the North seized the throne, up to this very ceremony.

At this moment, Wayne finally understood how he had unknowingly "offended" these nobles.

Initially, they colluded domestically, organizing arrest teams under the pretext of the Lateran Catholic Church training young monks and nuns. They then massively bought, abducted, and stole children cheaply from villages near the Victoria border, selling them to human trafficking organizations of the former Colombian Federation. They then extracted a cut, taking one-tenth of the profits, forming a black market supply chain. Most of these abducted Victorian children, along with children from other countries, were purchased by the Colombian government and sent to various corporations as unpaid laborers or humane experimental subjects. A smaller number were taken by nobles from other countries to countries like Casimir and Letania, where they became servants, slaves, or were trained as child gladiators in underground arenas for amusement.

This illicit supply chain lost its convenient pretext of the Lateran Church after Wayne's religious reform policies. However, during the subsequent events in the North and Wayne's purge of the Dukes of Normandy, this supply chain was unearthed and completely destroyed by Wayne. This marked the first time Wayne and the nobility clashed.

The second instance was in Colombia. Although the human trafficking organization in Victoria had been dismantled by Wayne, the collusion between the Victorian nobility and Colombia could not be severed. They could still exchange benefits with Colombia through various means, such as selling resources at low prices, selling laborers from their territories, and lowering the standards for Colombian goods. But then, Colombia collapsed.

Wayne's trip to Colombia was hardly a secret within the palace. The palace had numerous servants and maids, and on holidays, it invited large numbers of nobles for social gatherings. There were also many workers responsible for palace maintenance. These people, having not seen the Prince of Wales for a long time, naturally became suspicious. Once news leaked out, those with ulterior motives would discover that a royal flight had traveled to Colombia at a sensitive time. This was not difficult for the vast network of noble connections and intelligence.

Perhaps this matter cannot be entirely attributed to Wayne, after all, no one is entirely sure whether Joseph Pulitzer, Wayne, and Victoria were actually connected (most people believe they are unrelated due to the critical news coverage of the North), but naturally, no one would believe that Wayne, who disappeared and reappeared at this delicate juncture, could be completely unrelated to this incident. The collapse of Columbia effectively cut off one of their sources of income. Thus, the second grudge was formed.

The third time, when news of the construction of New Wales spread throughout Victoria, countless construction companies eagerly awaited the project. The construction of a mobile city was undoubtedly a lucrative undertaking. The nobles, who had long been unable to extract any profit from the royal family and had had two of their revenue streams cut off, joined forces to suppress all private construction companies. They were determined to win this massive project. However, Wayne's unexpected trip to Ursus turned out to be a gift of goodwill, awarding the tender to an Ursus company!

The cooked duck flew away again, and the nobles were already somewhat embarrassed and angry. Who knew that Wayne would announce that Ursus and Victoria would become "friends" and that Saint-Junburg and Lontinim would be connected!

When the two most powerful nations on Earth become friends, the people see hope for world peace, and the leaders see the long-term strategic benefits of avoiding a Cold War or a world war. But the capitalists and aristocrats see "the opportunity to profit from war is gone," and "the chance to make a fortune selling intelligence between the two countries has disappeared." "You're at peace, where am I going to make money?"

If Victoria and Ursus were to clash, private enterprises would have no chance of entering the lucrative market between the two nations. The nobles could easily label any company attempting to trade with the enemy as "traitors," suppressing and seizing their assets. They themselves could then use this "only they are allowed to sell out the country" opportunity to enrich themselves. However, if the two countries became friendly, this ban would no longer apply. The already stagnant, costly, low-yield, and low-quality noble enterprises would be unable to compete with the rapidly developing private enterprises that had survived the fierce competition. This would be tantamount to killing them.

Finally, Wayne created a nationalized enterprise, bestowing upon it the name of the state. This granted it extraordinary influence and a prestigious status. This should have been a good thing, but when the nobles enthusiastically tried to join the state-owned enterprise with their businesses, they were turned away by inspectors appointed by Wayne, on the grounds that their qualifications were too poor!

A group of people who were once considered the nation's elite, representing the country to some extent, are now deemed "too unqualified" to join the nation's enterprises. This is a great mockery for them and cuts off their last source of income.

As the saying goes, cutting off someone's livelihood is tantamount to killing their parents. Wayne, however, cut off their livelihood four times in just six months in power, causing the feud to fester. Finally, the nobles received their golden opportunity. They contacted Deeppool and supported the Celtic restoration plan. If successful, they would be loyal subjects of the new regime, and everything they had lost would be returned to them. If they failed, it wouldn't matter, because that wasn't their true aim in the first place.

The Deeppool Rebellion brought an unprecedented upheaval to Victoria's stable political situation. Whether Wayne admitted it or not, he was indeed shocked when he first heard that all the northern counties had fallen. The nobles, knowing Wayne's hands-on approach, hired the most renowned assassin in the land from Kazimir—the experienced Black Iron Lord of the Unarmored Alliance, who had also assassinated Pegasus nobles—determined to eliminate Wayne once and for all to prevent future troubles.

After listening to the entire plan, Wayne looked at the young Baron Anxi, who was filled with hatred for him, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh.

"Killed."

Wayne spoke up, and this time, Baron Anxi's body didn't explode silently like the others. A sniper who had taken up a high vantage point ended his life with a crossbow bolt.

He had once wondered, when reading history books about rebels during revolutions, why some nobles, despite being on the verge of collapse, refused to abandon their allegiance. The weak bourgeoisie, for their part, would often have readily relinquished power to a noble or emperor to legitimize their transition of rule. And while these nobles had lost power, their treatment wasn't necessarily bad. They still possessed prestige and ancestral property; they could choose to squander their wealth for generations or join the trend and convert their fiefdom into capital. But most of the time, the nobles didn't choose that path.

They resisted to the bitter end, even at the cost of betraying their country to seek aid. They would rather give the interests of their nation to foreign powers than to their own people.

But now, Wayne understands.

Because class contradictions are absolutely irreconcilable; even a brief respite is merely the prelude to a storm. Just as Wayne's previous three purges, driven by a reluctance to kill too many people, a reluctance to disrupt local balance, and a reluctance to cause serious damage, ultimately resulted in a fatal blow from Xuan Tie.

The Great Purge is over. Victoria is now finally completely innocent. It still has nobles and capitalists, but at least the reactionaries have been completely eliminated.

Kill one to warn a hundred; strike once to deter a hundred!

“Kal'tsit,” Wayne said into her headset. Even though she was silent, Wayne knew that someone on the other end of the headset was listening to her. “Have Joseph Pulitzer send the message. The title is: The Great Victorian Purge - Hell's Devil: The Prince of Wales.”

After saying that, he sat down on the ground with a thud.

Operating the entire Londinium monarchy under such high pressure was a tremendous burden on his body. Slumped to the ground, Wayne felt a dryness in his throat, and his eyelids drooped uncontrollably. This time, he didn't try to stop his body's hibernation response, because everything that needed to be arranged had already been taken care of.

Having purged so many nobles, it's impossible to pretend nothing happened. Even if their treason is undeniable, the act of hanging them all under lampposts or expediting their names without legal trial would set a very bad precedent for the legal system of Victoria. To prevent any future instances of similar moral and legal trampling from being exemplified by Wayne, as the instigator, Wayne must step forward. Since things have gone this far, someone has to take the blame.

"Those who know me, those who condemn me, only history will tell." Wayne firmly believed that what he was doing at this moment was right. If he hadn't made a decisive choice, and if these nobles had been allowed to gain power again, Victoria could very well have slid into an uncontrollable abyss.

In any case, Wayne is nominally just a prince without any power. He just needs to stay quiet for a while, step back from the limelight, and rest for a bit. When he returns, he will be a completely unharmed shadow emperor again.

Before he collapsed, a familiar figure ran onto the stage and gently supported Wayne's body. Wayne's almost closed eyes saw a pair of clear, azure eyes filled with a hint of anxiety.

"Brother, wake up! Brother?" Reed called anxiously. From not far away came Celtic's impatient voice:

"He's not dead. He's just asleep."

Celt glanced at Reed, not bothering to ask why she hadn't followed his orders and fled east. The area was swarming with soldiers placed by Wayne; fleeing rashly would only make them easy targets. Besides, Wayne's Originium Arts—was that a mental spell? It rendered even a determined warrior like her completely immobile, let alone Raphsini.

She raised her hands in surrender and shouted at Theresa and Vina, who were rushing toward the stage, "Don't let your people fire. I mean no harm."

After speaking, he disregarded Vina and the others' reactions, lowered his hand, and carefully examined the sleeping Wayne from head to toe, scrutinizing every detail. A self-deprecating expression appeared on his face.

Celt stood rooted to the spot. She wasn't on the list, yet she hadn't been dismissed. She had overheard all the interrogations and confessions, and she had heard Wayne's relieved command to Kelsey during their final conversation: "Let the Pulitzer reporter send out the report." Having witnessed it all, she suppressed her contempt and arrogance, and looking at the wounded lion lying defenselessly on the reeds' lap, emitting soft breaths, she let out a heartfelt sigh:

“I’m starting to admire you a little, Aslan.”

"Prince of Aslan, heretic of the Catholic Church, reformer of Victoria, unifier of the Empire, destroyer of Columbia, mentor of Ursus, role model for all."

She paused slightly, her expression complex, and murmured softly:

"A Pulitzer journalist who upholds justice."

Celt shook her head heavily, banishing all superfluous thoughts from her mind. So what if Wayne was Pulitzer? She was Draco, and Wayne was Aslan. Since that was the case, national hatred should always take precedence over personal grudges. Those insignificant little emotions she had once harbored were better left unaddressed. She, Celt, had long ago vowed to dedicate her entire life to Victoria; everything else was merely a tool to be discarded.

but......

"Aslan isn't all bad."

She bent down, and under the watchful eyes of the reeds, brushed aside Wayne's blond hair and took an earphone from his pocket.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

Celtic put the earphone to his ear, straightened his expression, and without caring whether there was any sound on the other end, introduced himself:

“I am Celtic, of the rightful bloodline of King Drakgal, the Red Dragon of Victoria, and the leader of the Deep Pool.”

“I am Kal'tsit…” Kal'tsit’s calm voice came from the other end of the microphone. She paused slightly, “Victoria’s Minister of the Interior, a friend of Princess Theresa, Wayne’s private secretary and close comrade-in-arms.”

This guy seems to have a good relationship with women?

Hearing that it was another woman on the other end of the microphone, Celtic glanced at the speechless Wayne, mentally muttered a curse, and said:

“I heard the order just now. You change Wayne’s order. Change the title to ‘[A Tragic Accident at the Ritual - The Avengers of the Deep Pool: The Last Red Dragon Celt.]’ As Joseph Pulitzer, you should know how to change the content, right?”

After speaking slowly and deliberately, without waiting for Kal'tsit to recover from her surprise and give a response, she loosened her calloused right hand, which was often gripping swords and pens, and the earphones fell to the ground with a "click".

Immediately afterward, she raised her hands again, letting Theresa and Vina, who rushed onto the stage, grab her hands and pull her away from Wayne. Before leaving, Celtic turned her head, looked at Reed, whose mouth was agape in shock because of her words, and gave a relieved smile:

"What are you looking at? Take good care of your wild brother."

“He saved Victoria once, and national favors should always be put aside for personal grudges. I should save him this time and take the blame for him. From now on, we are even.”

Goodbye, Lafssini. For Victoria!

P.S.: My computer still isn't fixed. I rushed through this at the internet cafe. Time for a break. Time to start cleaning up the mess in Deeppool. The real culprits are that scumbag cat and that scumbag Ahmoni—what kind of animal is that?

I really hope my computer will be fixed tomorrow!

Chapter Fifty-Three: Aftermath of the Great Purge

January 3, 1093 (Terra calendar), Lentinium, Victoria.

The nation was still basking in the joy of the New Year, and the people were still talking about Her Majesty the Queen's inspiring speech in the park the day before. The people, who had been evacuated in advance, had no idea what kind of bloody trial would follow that grand ceremony. The streetlights in the Royal Park, which occupied several movable blocks, were enough to house nobles and capitalists without feeling crowded.

Although Vayne was still unconscious from the overload, the Rhine Lab and the court physicians stationed there had conducted thorough examinations to confirm his good health. Whether it was brainwave activity or heart rate, the normal functioning of all his organs was within a controllable range. Finally, the doctors unanimously reached the same conclusion—His Highness Vayne was simply too tired; he didn't need any further treatment, just a good rest.

Vina, Theresa, and everyone who cared about Wayne breathed a sigh of relief and reluctantly returned to their posts.

Chen, with Talulah in tow, continued exploring the streets and alleys of Londinium. Bozokasti and Yelena, having received authorization, became the first official residents of New Wales County, leading the guerrilla team and the Yeti squad, facilitating their journey to Rhine Lab for treatment and research. The Lateran envoy hurriedly returned to the Holy City after the ceremony. Urbino and Michael tacitly kept everything they had seen and heard a secret. Wayne was Michael's "god," and she had no reason to betray him. Urbino, having witnessed Wayne's ruthless methods, believed it was better to keep the secret than to let his own precious head rot in the sewers. A few days later, on the afternoon of January 8th, Michael, acting as acting pope, reinstated Mostima as the papal envoy, sending her back to Victoria to serve as Wayne's "liaison."

But that's a story for another time. Right now, the most pressing issue facing Theresa and Vina is how to deal with the Celts and Reeds, and the Deeppool forces behind them.

"It's a good thing to admit your mistakes and correct them. Celt's initiative in taking the blame for His Highness Wayne is entirely beneficial to us. Aslan's reputation won't be damaged, and the thorough purge of the nobles can be explained as a bloody revenge by a traitorous organization. Therefore, I suggest that Celt be treated leniently."

Theresa stayed true to her principles. She certainly advocated for the punishment of Celt for leading the Deep Pool uprising, but she was also willing to mercifully give Celt a second chance, especially after she pulled back from the brink and made the right decision.

Vina's opinion largely aligned with hers. When Celt and Reed rushed onto the stage, almost no one immediately reacted to stop them from approaching Vayne. Given the incredible Originium Arts displayed by the half-Drak Talulah, Celt and Reed, as pure-blooded Drak, definitely had a chance to burn Vayne to a pile of indestructible ashes before anyone could stop them.

But Reed chose to embrace the helpless Wayne, preventing him from collapsing on the blood-stained stage, while Celt chose to temporarily set aside his prejudice against Aslan, taking all the blame for the Great Purge in exchange for Wayne's national grace in eradicating the cancerous growth parasitic on the massive body of Victoria.

In this way, Drak will be seen as a madman by everyone, Deeppool's already tarnished reputation will plummet, while Aslan's reputation will rise again with Vina's successful speech, reaching a new peak that can never be shaken.

The Celts essentially gave up their last theoretical possibility of conquering the country. They abandoned their lifelong ideals.

“I agree with Sister Theresa’s opinion. War crimes and treason are crimes that cannot be erased. It would be unreasonable for the merits and demerits to cancel each other out based on this alone, and for them to go unpunished. However, we can reduce the amount of the punishment.”

Vina placed her hands on the table, crossed them to cover her chin, striking a pose that was Wayne was known for as a thoughtful pose. After a moment of contemplation, she added:

"Our leader, Celt, has had her death sentence commuted to life imprisonment in Drak, where she will never be allowed to leave. Reed primarily served as an intelligence courier for the Victorian army. Although she also participated in the rebellion and acted as a temporary leader, she was forced into this situation by family ties. She will be confined to Dublin for three years. What do you think?"

Theresa nodded in approval; the sentence was neither too harsh nor too lenient, and it suited her tastes fairly well. Seeing Theresa's nod, Kal'tsit followed suit, only adding:

"Regarding the sentence for Reed, I propose that the place of confinement be changed from Dublin to Lentinium. The villa on the western outskirts of Lentinium is very suitable as a place for confinement."