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

What should she do now?

Is she to pull out the special visa from the Victorian Home Office's Anti-Corruption Commission and seek revenge against the remnants of the nobility who committed heinous acts against her and her family, or is she to board the steam train to Cape Town, take this Luoyang shovel, dig up the grave of the Baron of Cape Town, and whip his now-destroyed skeleton until she has vented her anger and felt relieved?

Wayne had given her that right; she could do it without any hindrance. Wayne even trusted her, allowing her to walk freely through the wide streets of Lentinium, without a single visible watchful eye. Wayne told her that one thing at a time, she could confidently pursue her convictions, and then have a serious talk with him later.

Mandela despised the hypocrisy of the Victorian aristocracy, whose promises and actual actions were always vastly different, yet they would always excuse it with the so-called "it's just how it is." But when someone actually put their high-sounding words into practice, Mandela didn't know where to put the hatred in his heart.

"Can I go to the park? I want to see it for myself... to confirm."

Mandela spoke to herself, her voice neither too loud nor too soft, causing passersby to turn their heads in confusion. A Victorian citizen wearing a round hat, arm in arm with his female companion, turned his head and saw the girl holding a strange-looking shovel standing alone in the middle of the street, looking quite lonely. He kindly spoke up:

"Are you lost? This is East District 3. The nearest park entrance is in East District 5. Head east. But it's closed right now. You probably can't get in for the time being. Go home early, kid. Londinium isn't peaceful either. I heard there are Drak's Avengers wandering around the streets."

Mandela turned her head and glared coldly at the tall Dorian man who had tried to pat her head, looking up at him from a low angle. Only after the man was pulled away by his female companion did she lower her head and mutter:

"The leader is not some avenger. Foolish Victorians."

"You're a Victorian too, aren't you?"

Wayne sat on a bench by the street, lowered the newspaper that was covering his face, and said softly. Mandela glanced at him, shook her head, then nodded:

“I am a Victorian, but not this Victorian.”

"The newspapers say that the Drak Avengers from Deeppool raided the ceremony, wounded me, and then killed most of the nobles present. But what people don't know is that the one who actually did all this is me, who claims to have been 'wounded, knocked unconscious, and rendered unconscious'."

"Wayne said slowly. Mandela nodded impatiently:"

"I know, I know, you executed those nobles because they betrayed the people's interests and violated Victorian laws and such. Who knows if what you're saying is true? Even if it is true, didn't you still put all the blame on the leader? To protect what you call peace and stability, and to suppress Deeppool and Drak, you forced everyone to admit that you were righteous."

“You’re wrong, Mandela.”

Wayne said seriously,

“I never forced Celt to admit that I was righteous. In fact, Celt didn’t even show up before I fainted, and when I woke up, things had already turned out this way.”

Mandela froze, turned around, and questioned him with shock and anger:

"What are you trying to say? You mean the leader took the blame for you? Don't be ridiculous, how could the leader possibly help Aslan...?"

Mandela's loud voice gradually faded. Amidst the respectful but distant gazes of passersby, her ears drooped, and her voice softened. Her stern questioning transformed into a plea to maintain her dignity. She prayed as she confirmed with Wayne:

"Right, the leader wasn't there voluntarily, she didn't... she didn't acknowledge you, right?"

“You can never admit this fact in your life.” Wayne stood up, rolled up the newspaper, and gently tapped it on Mandela’s head, but it felt like a heavy hammer blow to her heart. “But my answer is, she did it voluntarily.”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a plane ticket, and handed it to Mandela:

“Now I’m giving you a third option: you can go to New Wales yourself. Celt is currently serving her sentence in a temporary prison in New Wales for the crimes she committed. Once Drak City is built, her place of imprisonment will be moved to a special prison in Drak City. If you want to ask, now is the best opportunity.”

"You can choose to seek revenge, or you can choose to demand an explanation from the dead, or you can go to New Wales and ask your leader in person whether she voluntarily took the blame for this purge, and whether she acknowledges my, Wayne Bruce's, sole rule over this great nation. Or you can turn a deaf ear, ignore everything that has happened, and continue to be locked up in your cell as a prisoner in the Deep Pool until we catch Ahmoni and send you all to trial."

Wien seemed to suddenly remember something and added:

"Speaking of which, there's something I forgot to tell you. According to the confessions I obtained during the Great Purge, Ahmoni graduated from the Victorian Royal Guard Academy and swore allegiance to Grand Duke Ankhbad. Before working for Deeppool, she was Grand Duke Ankhbad's protégé and advisor. Even after working for Deeppool, she still received her monthly stipend from Grand Duke Ankhbad. We have obtained a lot of evidence to prove that Ahmoni is a double agent. By protecting her, listening to her, and working for her, you are actually serving the Victorian nobles you hate the most."

Seemingly realizing that his words were somewhat deliberate, Wayne explained:

"I'm not saying this to sow discord among you; I'm simply stating the facts. Whether you believe it, and to what extent, is up to you..."

“No need to say anything. I believe you,” Mandela replied. “You… no, never mind. Ahmoni and the Victorian nobility are no good, I’ve known that for a long time, but the leader trusted her so much. Now it seems the leader can misjudge people too. So, even if the leader approves of you, it doesn’t mean I will acknowledge you.”

“I don’t need your approval,” Wayne said, shaking his head. Everything he did was never for the approval of any one person, but for the present and future of all the people.

But this remark clearly stifled Mandela, who had finally found a way to back down. She pouted, hastily skipped the topic, took off the necklace with the Deep Pool mark from her neck, and handed it to Wayne.

“Take this; it is a token of the leader.”

"The unicorn knows how to use it. That's all I can say!"

Mandela sniffed, turned her head away so Wayne wouldn't see the disgusted look on her face, and said loudly:

"Also, don't think you have me wrapped around your little finger. You gave me three choices..."

Wayne raised an eyebrow: "You're not choosing any of them?"

Mandra slung the shovel over her shoulder with the practiced ease of a miner, a movement once etched in her memory but now sounding somewhat rusty. She said, enunciating each word clearly, "I want them all!" and then turned and walked away into the distance.

"You're going the wrong way, the airport is this way."

Wayne, hands in his pockets, chuckled and looked at Mandela, who was turning back with a flushed face and an embarrassed expression, and said...

"Remember to come back when you're done. According to the military court, you have a 30-year prison sentence to serve."

Mandela stumbled.

After Mandela walked away, Wayne turned around and waved to Vina and her two companions, who were dressed in full disguise, coming from the street. Only after the three reluctantly approached did he laugh and boast:

"How was it? I did a good job, didn't I!"

Wearing sunglasses, Vina awkwardly wiped away her cold sweat: "It's not bad, it's not bad."

Wearing a hat, Theresa lowered the brim guiltily: "But, Mr. Bruce..."

Wearing a suit, a new hairstyle, and a mask, Kal'tsit pursed her lips and couldn't help but mutter:

"Your Highness Wayne, do you and Mandela both suffer from social arrogance? Striking back and forth on the most bustling street in Lentinium, slapping newspapers on your heads, throwing around three choices, laughing and joking, waving goodbye, without even trying to lower your voices...you..."

Wayne glanced at the crowd of onlookers and suddenly understood why Vina and the others had seemed so reluctant when they came over.

He covered his face. Oh no! If his identity as the Prince of Wales were discovered, his life as the Victorian Best Actor would be over.

Why don't we make a lot of noise to cover it up?

"Stop talking!"

With a sharp shout, Wayne interrupted Kal'tsit's urge to continue her rant. He grabbed Theresa and Vina by the shoulders, nudged Kal'tsit with his head, and said:

"Please, stop talking, let's go. Let's go home, let's go home!"

Chapter Sixty-Four: God, how many masters does he have?

Londinium, Big Ben clock tower.

Contrary to popular belief, the interior of Big Ben's clock tower is quite spacious. At least when Wayne led Theresa and the others into the tower, he could still see the unicorns huddled together watching Winston play chess. Dispersed by Wayne's cough, the unicorns quickly returned to their posts, and Winston also stopped his game, stood up, and nodded in greeting:

“Your Highness, you have just woken up and should rest. If you need anything, you can send someone to the clock tower to call me, or simply press the call button to send a message. Why bother coming here in person?”

Wayne shook his head and laughed, "Don't say that. With such a big incident in Londinium, I have to see how the people react. This is the first time in a thousand years that this land has been without a noble leader."

Wayne has always believed in the creativity of the people, but where that creativity will be used is hard to say. Sometimes, without proper leadership, the people's great creativity can become a force that destroys the world. The aristocracy system has been able to exist for so long, both on Earth in the past and on Terra now, not simply because a small number of people possess wealth, land, or armies, but because, in a certain historical period, the existence of nobles has indeed played an indispensable role in uniting the people and guiding the direction of development.

Victoria is indeed highly developed. As the leading power in the Terra world, it possesses advantages that many other countries lack. However, in terms of its social system alone, Wayne has to admit that it is inferior to Colombia, belonging to the type of country where even revolutionaries would beg for some form of capitalism. With such swift and decisive action, the sudden and bloodiest suppression of an entire class has created a huge power vacuum, and Wayne is worried that Victoria might descend into turmoil as a result.

Fortunately, the situation was much better than he had anticipated. Only a small number of cities lacking noble leadership experienced riots, but these were quickly quelled. The capital, Lentinium, peacefully accepted the reality of the unrest. Although the incident still sparked considerable discussion among the public.

"Everything went smoothly. The unicorns that were prepared in advance to suppress the riots were hardly ever deployed. Even in the capitals of the various grand dukes where the noble forces were the strongest, there was more criticism of Deeppool Drak than criticism of the royal family and Victoria."

Winster said earnestly,

"From the perspective of national interest alone, we should thank the Celtics for taking the blame."

Wayne nodded in agreement. In a way, Celt had indeed redeemed herself for Victoria at the last moment. If she hadn't been there, or if she had been there but exaggerated Wayne's actions, Aslan's current situation would be dire. Drak might even have been able to consolidate his power among the nobility, gain access to foreign intervention, and launch a genuine rebellion against Wayne. But Celt didn't choose to do that. She understood Wayne and the necessity of doing so, and voluntarily took the blame for him. For Victoria, she had done a good job.

"Therefore, I sentenced her to life imprisonment, not the death penalty."

Wayne said,

"Of course, there's still room for discussion in the future. I came to see you today not just because I happened to be passing by Big Ben and thought I'd stop by for a chat."

Winster nodded knowingly: "Please speak freely, I will do my best to help you."

Without saying much, Wayne took out the pendant Mandra had given him from his pocket and asked, "Do you recognize this?"

Winster glanced at Wayne in surprise, then spread his hands and said, "The emblem of the Deep Pool? How could I not recognize it? Your Highness, are you joking?"

But as soon as he finished speaking, he frowned, took the pendant from Wayne's hand, and pulled a magnifying glass from the pocket of his white cloak, examining it closely. After a while, he looked up, his brow furrowed, and replied:

"I apologize, Your Highness, forgive my slip of the tongue, but I recognize this. It's a token of the two-horned beast. It's made from a special Originium crystal that emits a yellow glow and heat at night, and it's quite rare. I thought it had disappeared into the dustbin of history along with those ugly two-horned beasts. Where did you get this?"

“Mandra gave it to me,” Wayne said.

Winster exclaimed, "You convinced him? That's a miracle! But perhaps you should consider getting a full medical checkup? The interrogator we sent to interrogate her last time—when we examined his body, we found over a dozen pebbles that Mandela had buried inside him, scattered throughout his body. That interrogator was forced to commit suicide due to extreme pain..."

"What's his name?" Wayne narrowed his eyes.

"Maybach Ray Capetown. A collateral member of the Capetown family, and the younger brother of the late Baron Capetown. He served in the late Emperor's army in his early years, participated in the Battle of Langdon, and was later transferred to the rear in Dublin due to injury. He was discharged from the army after the war and retired the following year."

Upon hearing Winster recite this "glorious" resume, Wayne knew why the guy had died.

Well, that saves us another sum of money for the survivor's pension.

Wayne skipped the topic, saying, "No need for a physical exam. I'm fine. How do you use this thing? Mandra said you'll know how to use it; you can use it to find Ahmoni and the remnants of the Deep Pool."

“Uh…” When the topic of using this thing came up, the unicorn elder suddenly became hesitant and stammered. Wayne raised an eyebrow in confusion:

"What's wrong? Is there some problem?"

"I do know how to use this, but, Your Highness, I must warn you in advance: unicorns are a bunch of evil brutes. Their brains, devoid of thought, are probably smaller than a horned beast's fingernail. I suggest you avoid dealing with them. And..."

Winster took a deep breath and warned sternly:

"Moreover, unicorns have faith."

Have faith? So what if you have faith? Who hasn't had faith yet?

The Laterans worship their cross god; the Sarkaz worship a pardoning god who can forgive souls and her representative, the Demon King; the Sherag worship the mountain god of the sacred mountain; further still, the Colombians believe that capital and money are omnipotent; the Ursus believe that violence and authority are inviolable; even the Victorians now mostly worship Anglicanism and Her Majesty the Queen. Who doesn't have some kind of faith?

Winster spoke cautiously, "What I mean is, they have gods."

Wayne paused for a moment, then suddenly smiled. God, he really wasn't afraid of a being like God, who was on par with demons. Could he defeat my terrifying upright ape?

"God, how many divisions does he have?"

Chapter 65 It can't be because I'm good-looking, right?

Kazimir, outside the Great Knights' territory.

Old Platinum, leading Hinterlea, chose a safe route and left the Great Knight Territory, followed by the uninvited guest, Marna. After they had traveled nearly ten kilometers from the Great Knight Territory, Old Platinum and Hinterlea stopped at Marna's instruction.

Marna surveyed the surrounding deep, dense forest and began to speak:

"Okay, that's enough, let's stop."

Bai Jin's face stiffened, and he grabbed Hinterlea's hand, stopping her. He didn't turn around, but stared at the sunless woods before him, and spoke to the man behind him: