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

"We've arrived."

The man in black robes knelt on one knee and addressed the Drak girl, who sat on the throne on the steps, head bowed, seemingly fast asleep:

"Your Highness, we found this person in the forest."

The Stone Throne on the steps is rather simple, even somewhat shabby compared to the majestic Iron Throne in the Iron Palace of Londinium. However, upon comparison, it is not difficult to see that the Stone Throne is almost a perfect replica of the Iron Throne. If the material used to forge it were replaced with a fine steel alloy, then it would undoubtedly be the second Iron Throne.

Someone with a purpose replicated it in this form, and even when sleeping, they were unwilling to leave it for a moment. Princeton looked up at the girl who was pretending to sleep on the throne. He had just seen her just now, but for some reason, a sense of unfamiliarity suddenly welled up in his heart.

He saw indifference, distrust, and disdain in those deep blue eyes that were fixed on him. The Earl of Princeton couldn't fathom that this was the same expression the kind, almost foolish, Princess Reed would display. Her demeanor was different from Reed's; in fact, it was as if they were two different people.

"I understand, you may all leave now."

There was no need to deliberately use Old Victorian for encrypted communication. Celtic waved his hand, dismissing the three people from Deeppool who were standing there. He then rose from his throne, walked down the steps, stood before the Earl of Princeton, and asked:

"What do you want, Earl of Princeton?"

"You are...."

This imperious attitude was far removed from the image of reeds in his mind, and the Earl of Princeton asked the question almost subconsciously.

Celt chuckled dismissively: "Of course I'm [Reed], what? We just met during the day, and you've already forgotten?"

She paused, then said:

"To be honest, when I received Deeppool's message that strangers had infiltrated the mountains, I was really startled. I thought the guys from Londinium had already discovered it. But the final catch Deeppool reported was you... Earl of Princeton, you really gave me a fright. So, what is it?"

The Earl of Princeton opened his mouth, looking somewhat unaccustomed to the unusually assertive [Reed], before closing his eyes, letting out a long sigh, and saying, "Things have taken a little unexpected turn."

"Accident?"

Celtic frowned slightly, then relaxed.

Of course, things didn't go smoothly all the time; the plan had already taken a wrong turn when the new Queen of Londinium suddenly gave a televised address targeting the Earl of Princeton. But none of that mattered much.

As long as the army and government remain firmly in their hands, mere public criticism is of no concern. And this is the North, within Princeton County, the rebels' stronghold—who can shake Lord Princeton's rule here? Impossible, impossible!

But she was wrong this time.

The Earl of Princeton could guess what Celt was thinking simply by looking at her confident expression. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, for just half a day earlier, he had shared the same thought as Celt—what did public opinion matter as long as the army and the government were in his hands?

They clearly underestimated public opinion and the boundless power of the people it represents.

The Earl of Princeton took a deep breath and laid everything out:

“Wayne Bruce is back.”

The name that her younger sister kept repeating in her ear every day instantly caught Celtic's attention, and at the same time, it gave her a bad feeling.

The Earl of Princeton continued, with a pained expression:

"Wayne, using his status as the son of the King of the North, seized my military and political power in a very short time through flattery, fabricated evidence, and manipulation of public opinion. [Reed], I've been sidelined. If we don't do something soon, your plans may very well fail!"

"How did he do that?" Even someone as composed as the Celts couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

In the vast North, with tens of thousands of troops and hundreds of thousands of people, how did Wayne manage to do it in just over half a day?

Celt stared intently into the Earl of Princeton's eyes, and surprisingly, there wasn't a trace of lying in them. Was he telling the truth?

Celt fell into deep thought. She suddenly realized that she might not know as much about the enemy as she thought.

She thought that Deeppool had already understood the current situation of Lontinim before instigating this rebellion: the brilliant King of the North was dead, the new King Vina had only recently been crowned and her power base was not yet stable, and the whole of Victoria was significantly lacking in generals and commanders after the purge, with only a few people like Ernest who could maintain appearances. It was the best time to launch a rebellion.

But she overlooked one person, or rather, deliberately ignored someone she considered unworthy of attention—Wayne Bruce. The son of the King in the North, Reed's brother, that so-called "good-for-nothing playboy."

Tsk, I was careless. It's all Reed's fault. All she ever does is tell me about her brother's "romantic escapades" with princesses from various countries. If she had just mentioned that Wayne had such talent, she wouldn't have eliminated him from the competition from the very beginning.

It's never too late to mend the fence after the sheep are lost. Understanding Wayne now and immediately changing the strategy might still offer a chance to turn the tide. Celtic pondered for a moment, then summoned Deeppool, who was waiting, and again spoke in a language the Earl of Princeton couldn't understand:

"(Old Victorian: Go and bring my sister.)"

Shenchi bowed and accepted the order, then walked outside.

Then, Celtic shifted his gaze back to the man in front of him, his eyes filled with a hint of disgust.

To cause him such a mess in half a day, regardless of Wayne's strength, the Earl of Princeton must be in serious trouble. A murderous glint flashed in Celtic's eyes, but it vanished in an instant. She wasn't one to act impulsively; it wasn't time for Deeppool and Drak to officially step into the limelight. She still needed a puppet to stir up trouble in Victoria's political arena and cause problems for the Aslans.

She understood that with the unexpected turn of events involving Wayne, the plan to overthrow Aslan's rule was unlikely to succeed. But that didn't matter!

She never placed all her hopes on this rebellion. To her, the success or failure of the rebellion was unimportant, as long as it weakened Aslan's authority and shook the hearts of the people in Victoria, the Deeppool, who were watching from the sidelines, could reap the benefits.

Therefore, she must continue to use this Earl of Victoria, and use him well and to the fullest extent. Even if he is a pawn to be discarded, he must be made to play a sufficient role.

.............

Victoria, North, ? ? ?, Reed Camp.

The unicorn easily slit another neck. After thinking for a moment, still not satisfied, it raised its knife and plunged it into the chest of the black-robed man in the deep pool at its feet. Only after confirming that he was completely dead did it finally pull out the knife and wipe the blood off the blade.

Rushing into the secret room to eavesdrop would be dangerous, so he chose an easier way: to wait outside the door.

When the man in black from the deep pool hurriedly left the secret room, he did not make a move. Instead, he chose to continue to lie in wait and follow, to see where this hurried "big fish" would lead him, the fishhook.

When the men in black from Deep Pool arrived at the camp, he did not take action but chose to observe and see what this "minion of the mastermind" was looking for, while clearing out the surrounding sentries.

When the man in black from the deep pool woke the sleeping reed and respectfully followed her out of the tent, the unicorn finally nodded in satisfaction and chose to make her move.

First, taking advantage of the enemy's unpreparedness, she easily knocked out Wei Cao, and then cleanly and neatly slit the neck of the man in black. The movements were so smooth and effortless, and with the speed of the unicorn, it was practically effortless.

Now, he picked up the unconscious girl beside him and connected with the unicorn chieftain Winster.

"Reporting to the chieftain, a fish has taken the bait; it's a big one."

Chapter Eighty: Demons of the Wasteland

Victoria, the North, the Forgotten Mountains.

Mostima felt that this might be her unlucky day. Perhaps she shouldn't have made any useless prayers before going out, but instead consulted the "old almanac" compiled by the Great Yan Imperial Observatory?

After all, that thing was actually made by the Imperial Observatory based on the gods' daily physical condition and wishes, so maybe it really had some mystical effects?

Of course, this shouldn't lead to doubts about Mostima's faith. She undoubtedly believes in God, and in an omnipotent and benevolent one. But whether this God is a Sakota, a dragon, or even an Aslan, she doesn't care.

It can be anyone, not even a god, but a god-like, omnipotent, and benevolent person.

However, the latter requirement is far too demanding for a human being, and Mostima believes it is absolutely impossible.

But it's no use saying anything now, whether it's the god of Laterano or the god of Great Yan, it's all useless now.

To solve her current problem, she still needs to seek help from the gods of Victoria, preferably the earth god and the mountain god.

Because she got lost.

Mostima never imagined he would encounter such a problem in his life, let alone that the Pope's musketeers would have such an adorable, directionally challenged trait.

But upon closer reflection, this seems quite reasonable.

If we were to discuss the most peaceful countries on Earth, Lateran would undoubtedly rank among the top. The Papacy's cavalry, as one of the Vatican's strongest armed forces, would be even less likely to be deployed easily; conversely, their knowledge of the outside world would be even scarcer.

If that were all, the musketeers wouldn't have gotten lost in the forest. After all, churches throughout Laterano are found all over Terra, and even the isolated Yan Kingdom would build a church in its major cities. The local churches are like Laterano's spies and eyes and ears, providing support for Laterano's activities, including but not limited to providing maps and sending guides.

But Victoria was different. It was the birthplace of the Reformation, and numerous churches were either uprooted or converted into Anglican territory. The North was a religious wasteland, and the King of the North had a clear anti-Latland stance. As a result, the churches in the North were already few in number and underdeveloped. Under continuous suppression, they were not only incapable of supporting Mostima's actions, but they would be content to do so if they didn't shout "I shed blood for Lateran, I served the Pope, give me a stipend, let me see the Pope" when they met Mostima.

Under all circumstances, the Pope's personal guard is probably even less familiar with the roads than Mostima.

However, if only that were all the bad luck. Unfortunately, even worse things were yet to come.

The layers of trees behind them blocked the way they had come from, and the dense bushes ahead obstructed their path. It was as if this mountain range had a mind of its own, deliberately leading them astray, trying to trap Mostima and the others here.

Mostima raised her hand to stop the team's advance. If she remembered correctly, this was her third time here.

Although the arrangement of the trees, the location of the bushes, and even their density were completely different from what Mostima remembered, she still made this judgment because when he last arrived here, he had keenly left an indelible mark—the Lateran etched bullet, which remained undegradable even after a thousand years underground.

Mostima bent down to pick up the bullet half-buried in the soil, looked up, and glanced at the silent trees around him. Suddenly, he felt a chilling gaze upon him.

The next second, the trees, realizing they could no longer hide, suddenly stirred. Despite the absence of wind, their leaves began to shake wildly, and thick, barbed vines, as thick as a baby's arm, dangled from the canopy on both sides, lashing towards Mostima.

At this point, no matter how puzzled Mostima and the Papal Guard were, they had to face the reality before them—the reason they were lost and trapped in the forest wasn't simply because they were unfamiliar with Victoria, but because...

This forest is alive!

The mere array of trees and bushes posed no threat to Mostima and his men. Before the vines could even begin to swing, the papal guards behind Mostima had already drawn their pistols, precisely aiming at the moving target and snapping the vines in two. Behind him, another papal guard had also set up his revolver, unleashing a torrent of fire that instantly engulfed the trees and bushes attempting to ambush them, reducing them to fragments scattered across the ground.

The crisis was easily resolved, but Mostima showed no sign of relief or joy.

This is just one or two trees...

Standing in the vast Forgotten Mountains, there are countless trees like these. Even if only one-tenth or one-hundredth of them have mutated into these bizarre tree spirits, Mostima asked herself, do they have any chance of getting out?

When faced with the true power of nature, both the magic of angels and the guns of the Pope seem so insignificant. This man-eating forest may not be as overwhelming as a "natural disaster" capable of easily destroying a mobile city, but it is undoubtedly more bizarre and difficult to guard against. This can be seen from the fact that the mutated trees try to change the scenery to make Mostima and his companions circle around in the same place repeatedly, thus wearing them down—they not only possess intelligence, but they even understand the most basic strategies.

Having been chosen as prey by this cannibalistic forest kingdom, Mostima now has only two choices: either to quickly set up his musket riders, sweep through the area, and escape, or to strike at the heart of the problem and venture deeper into the forest to resolve the source of this anomaly.

She naturally chose the second option.

Because in the remains of these trees, she detected the subtle yet undeniable scent of the wasteland's alien [pollution].

This suggests that these trees did not mutate without reason, and that there may be a source of pollution deep within the Forgotten Mountains.

That could be a fragment of a Wasteland Xenomorph, or it could be the corpse of a Wasteland Xenomorph, or even a living Wasteland Xenomorph!

Even the mild-mannered Mostima frowned at the mere mention of this "creature".

It cannot be spoken of, cannot be thought of, and cannot be spread!

Enemies of civilization, beings from beyond, lurking in the uninhabited forbidden zones of Terra, filled with malice towards civilization, and waiting for an opportunity to destroy the entire land—these are creatures that transcend nationality and race, and must be fought together against.

Ursus has deployed a large force on the tundra, using the Wendigo, the most powerful individual soldiers, along with the most terrifying elite legions to guard the frontier of human civilization.

Sargon's ruler, the supreme King of Kings, the great Sultan, and the descendants of nightmares joined forces to support the conquerors' march into the wasteland of human civilization.

Even the seemingly detached Lateran Papacy, in cooperation with the Iberian government, established a Grand Inquisition, trained judges, and worked with the defense forces to defend against malice from the deep sea.

Anyone, of any race, of any nation, should unite in the face of the threat posed by the alien species of the wasteland, prioritizing the swift resolution of this threat to human civilization. This is an unwritten rule on Terra.

Now, a barbaric species is right in front of her, and it has already developed to the point of spreading pollution, altering the environment, and preying on humans. Mostima can no longer ignore it.

Moreover, having learned of the existence of this barbaric creature, Mostima and the others were already trapped. Returning to inform Victoria was also forbidden.

The fundamental principle for exterminating the Wasteland Devils is to minimize their known reach. The more they are discovered, the stronger the evil becomes, and the wider their contamination spreads.

The alien species of the wasteland will hunt them down with all their might, and they must also use every means to kill the alien species here. Even just knowing this, it is already a situation where it is destined to be a fight to the death.

For the sake of the greater good, the rescue of Wayne must be put on hold for the time being.

That's what they say...