The Villain Princess survived the Imperial Riot

"That's just a legend. The benzoin in your hand first appeared two thousand four hundred years ago. A mind cultivator, Zhixiang, sought a path to mythical ascension and drew inspiration from the story of benzoin." Lady Aynive sighed helplessly. "It's actually a very cruel path. That Zhixiang transformed his tamed servants into incense slaves, and the benzoin burned the slaves' souls. Each slave could be considered the Zhixiang's second incarnation. Using this method, he used tens of thousands of slaves to explore the dangerous realms of the Dream Realm. After tens of thousands of attempts, he finally knocked on the door to myth."

"..."

The Sea of ​​Ashes is a chaotic and magical place. Hestia's knowledge of it is very superficial, and this is the first time she has heard of such a secret.

"Later, followers who worshipped that figure, no, that myth, established sects and families. They refined rare incense, cultivated incense slaves, endowed them with different paths, and even sold them openly at gatherings of esoteric practitioners. Later, as time passed, these incense slaves acquired a more respectable title—Guardians of the Way."

"So, within this benzoin of mine, there exists a secret soul?"

"They are not considered secret cultivators. They cannot use their powers. They are merely endowed with the spirituality of the Tao and become one with their masters. The purpose of this is to allow the guardians to protect their masters from the temptations of worms and prevent them from falling into the mist of chaos when they roam the Dream Residence, thus allowing them to complete their ascension safely."

Hearing Lady Aynive say this, Hestia's eyes showed confusion.

It sounds like this incense does not pose a threat to the user, but rather has more benefits, just like having an extra scapegoat.

Could it be that the little bug Matildahl Miller really has “good intentions”?

Hestia shook her head and asked, "What else?"

"Some benzoins can enslave a soul, transforming it into a familiar like an incense mist. Others imprint a steel seal on the souls of living people, creating guardians. They can indeed wield some of their master's powers, but they are dependent on their master..." Lady Aynive asked tentatively, "Your Highness's incense does not contain a familiar. Does that mean Your Highness has signed a contract with a guardian?"

"No," Hestia denied.

"How strange! Although this is an unconventional auxiliary ritual, it does have a significant effect. I wouldn't be surprised if Your Highness actually used it," Lady Aynive frowned. "What really puzzles me is that the production of benzoin inevitably accompanies the creation of an incense slave. Since Your Highness has no contracted familiar or guardian, then who is the soul behind this incense? You must know that blindly using benzoin will not have any protective effect. It is a serious waste for those who use and sell it."

"Only God knows," Hestia said. She also couldn't figure out the worm's purpose.

However, after her previous battle with the Witch Fragment, the Princess had gained greater confidence in the Witch Book. Even the ancient witches couldn't plunder her power, so how could a mere insect, not even a myth, truly wreak havoc?

"Should I light it, then?" Hestia asked.

"Benzoin usually doesn't burn out. The moment it burns out, the guardian dies. Just like the servants in the ancient legends who found a way out for the dwarf secret cultivators surrounded by demons."

Madam Ainiwei's expression became more serious and she spoke in a deep voice.

"If Your Highness has further questions, I suggest you first ask the person who gave you this incense to find out who the guardian behind it is."

Volume 36: Dreamers: . Villa Storm (Part )

There is no time in the mountains. The hunger, disease and poverty that spread along the coast of the harbor area are stuck at the mountain pass. The upper city is peaceful and prosperous amid the dance, music and debauchery in theaters and clubs.

The princess and the nobles of Yunling, who were bent on planning a prosperous and glorious era, naturally could not bear to see the sufferings of the world. On the first day of the construction of the Tianlong Temple, they recruited 30,000 workers to cut wood and level the ground. The flying smoke and dust once drifted for several miles. Even the scale of the old emperor's palace construction was no less than this.

Considering this wasn't a palace for a mortal emperor, but rather a sacred place dedicated to the worship of the Celestial Dragon, even if it cost a fortune, and even if Charles II himself were present, it wouldn't be easy to criticize. Naturally, the bureaucrats and nobles of Yunling Province were all impressed, vowing to add another golden tile to Charles's heyday.

Anyway, it's not their money that is being spent. In order to raise initial funds, the governor killed a group of rats and barely cleared out the land worth about 200,000 gold shields.

Moreover, the governor did a very good job and did not even trigger large-scale opposition from the aristocratic groups.

As the number of laborers in the account books tripled out of thin air, many serfs from the landlords on the north bank participated in the work, which meant that everyone had food to eat and everyone worked together. Within the Yunling area, the spectacular project of the Tianlong Temple received unanimous praise from both the upper and lower classes.

"Eight thousand construction workers, and that fool Hessen dared to offer a salary of thirty thousand!?" After reviewing Clara's summary of intelligence, Hestia nearly punctured the documents with the tip of her Tyrannical pen. She wanted to bore a hole in the Governor's head and complained, "Does that pig think I'm easy to deal with and want to stew me in advance?"

"To be precise, it's still the same salary for 8,000 people," Clara reported calmly, neither sad nor happy. "The locals' salaries in Cloudtop City have been cut to one-third of their original level. Although this is barely enough to make ends meet, due to the recent snowstorm and business downturn, the unemployed are still very satisfied. Especially since the temple construction site also provides two free communions every day."

Hestia's expression finally softened slightly. "Hmm...it seems the Governor does have some financial talent. Did he give the remaining two-thirds to the serfs?"

"Serfs don't get paid, Your Highness, and there may not really be that many serfs." Clara reminded in a gentle voice.

"I understand."

, Reimu @ Instrument (II)

That means, in the worst case scenario, those 8,000 workers might have to do the work of three people while receiving only one-third of the salary.

Hestia was too lazy to comment. At least judging from the results, the chaotic situation in Cloudtop City had eased a little, and the increase in criminals in the police station had dropped by half in two days.

But in the long run, the news of free communion will also attract more refugees from the surrounding areas. These poor people will gather in the city, and it is hard to say whether this will not make the situation worse.

Hestia was thankful she had chosen to locate the temple in the suburbs of the north bank. This prevented accidents, making it easier for the Iron Army to suppress the rebellion. Furthermore, the journey sapped people's energy, preventing those who simply sought alms from causing trouble.

The area ten kilometers around the temple is the royal territory, and camping and overnight stays are prohibited. Between coming and going, the refugees will only have the energy to eat and sleep, and they will have to sing praises to the God-Emperor in their dreams of being well fed.

In this regard, Adrian had perfectly executed the princess's decision, preventing further chaos from occurring in Yunding City. The communion stew, made from wheat, potatoes, offal, rotten vegetable stems, and addictive spices, was so thick it could even hold a spoon upright. While it might not look good, it tasted delicious, earning praise from all who enjoyed it. Living standards soared by thirty percentage points.

What else could Hestia say? She couldn't really massacre the entire Governor's Mansion, could she? That would mean there would be no one left to use. She might as well just give up on Yunling.

Turning a blind eye to the situation, Hestia tossed a stack of documents into a corner and asked, "What about the bacteria and virus matter? Miss Rousseau, is there any new progress?"

"She seems to be hanging out at the Perfume Club these days."

"..."

"However, our sentries have been monitoring the doctor who provided the addictive potion. He has brewed several pots of controlled narcotics. Apart from that, we haven't seen any unusual activity for the time being."

"Confusing agent?"

"It's a neuroleptic drug that confuses the user's mind, putting them in a trance-like state, half dreaming and half awake. It has a certain calming effect. Besides being used in mental hospitals, adventurers also use high-concentration bewilderment traps to deal with magical beasts. That doctor is licensed to produce bewilderment drugs, so it can't be said that he's breaking the law... Your Highness, should we arrest him and interrogate him?"

If she really wanted to, Clara could take him down even without solid evidence.

As for the charges... the military wants to punish a lowly doctor who isn't even a noble. Aren't such randomly fabricated charges commonplace?

"Wait a moment," Hestia pondered. "If he truly was the supplier of these 'bacteria and drug addictions,' he would have fled the first day the Black Hand Guild's stronghold was destroyed. Why would he be sitting still like this?"

"That's what His Highness said."

"Wait a little longer, wait a little longer..." Hestia murmured. "The bugs and the rebels will definitely surface. Until then, the Iron Army only needs to maintain basic stability in Cloudtop City." She ordered Clara, "Go there in person and tell that pig in the Governor's Mansion that no matter who he uses to control order in the downtown area, whether it's the police or the gangs, they must prevent any riots!"

"As you command, Your Highness!"

The tall knight saluted with impeccable grace and strode out of the study.

Group (six) bell 亻尔亻尔事事八VIDII似

As soon as she left, Matildahl Miller, who had been waiting at the door for two hours, knocked on the half-open door: "Your Highness, do you have time now?"

"Come in." Hestia was flipping through a recent newspaper.

In addition to the mainstream mouthpieces controlled by the empire, it also includes tabloids that comment on current affairs, gossip, or scandals.

Normally, she could care less about the living conditions of her subjects, imprisoning those found guilty of rudeness and publicly beheading those found guilty of treason. This light and labor-saving management method once saved vast administrative resources. As for the effect... at the very least, the "memorials" submitted to the imperial palace all reported peace and prosperity. Even the lowliest ratman scavenger in Cloudtop City's sewers would involuntarily puff out his chest at the thought of the Supreme Empire's vast territory and magnificent military achievements.

But now it was different. Hestia knew that a disaster was brewing, with worms and rebels hanging over her head like sharp swords, but she didn't know from which direction the disaster would erupt.

Therefore, through the content and public opinion guidance of these tabloids, she can, to a certain extent, see the big picture from the small details and make strategies in advance.

Putting down the newspaper, Hestia looked up at the girl in a black dress who was dressed as if for a funeral.

Although she disliked the little bug, the princess had to admit that compared to her untamed puppy, Matildahl Miller's manners were almost impeccable. Unlike Viola, she would not hunch her chest and back when she was nervous, and cower like a thief; nor would she sweat when she was nervous and wipe her sweat on her skirt every now and then.

The little bug's aristocratic manners are perfect and he is very graceful.

"Your Highness, you are a noble descendant of the Celestial Dragon. Although you are always noble, great, and energetic, please stop occasionally to enjoy your life and hobbies, and don't worry too much about lowly servants like us. If you do that, the little Matildale puppy will feel sorry for Your Highness..."

Matildahl stared at the princess's lips, not looking directly at the beautiful face of the Celestial Dragon, which was a manifestation of awe.

In the past, Princess Yi would definitely have proudly said, "I, a lowly servant, am also a part of the great cause of the Wei Ling Alliance Empire." But now, Her Highness's lips only curled up slightly, like a ray of cold light occasionally falling from the dark clouds.

It's dazzling, but not warm.

This made Matildahl feel depressed, but when she saw the tower-shaped incense burner placed in the corner of the desk, her spirits were lifted again.

The incense burner is pointed and exquisite, and white fragrant mist seeps out from the carved window lattices. It then rises from below and gradually floats to the golden garden mural on the ceiling, curling and graceful, like a dream of heaven.

It was the first time for Matildahl to smell the scent of benzoin. It was light, soft, and lingering, giving her a strange yet familiar feeling.

"What is it?" Hestia's response was cold.

But this indifference seemed like a divine mercy to Matildahl—Your Highness will not scold me today! The antidote is effective!

In just a short moment, Matildaal had already imagined the wonderful scene of regaining His Highness's favor and carrying His Highness for a ride in the garden!

She wanted to be ridden by His Highness, wanted to be strangled by His Highness, wanted to become the property of the Celestial Dragons, wanted to share their nobility and glory.

In that way, even the unruly Russian shepherd would look up at her with awe!

It is a wonderful thing to be the princess's dog!

And the day of return seems no longer far away.

"It's Instructor Noelle," Matildahl said excitedly, "She's waiting in the hall at your invitation."

"Let her in. By the way, call Clara back and tell her I forgot to tell her something."

"Your will!"

It’s a pity that there is no tail, otherwise the Matildaal would definitely shake like a motor.

She walked out of the study excitedly, skipping down the corridor. Perhaps she was too excited, and despite her martial arts skills, she missed a step and tumbled down the stairs, hitting her forehead and leaving a big swelling.

"Miss Miller, are you okay?"

Viola, who was holding a pile of books, happened to pass by. Seeing Matildaal fall, she put the books on her shoulders, freed one arm, and stretched out to the embarrassed Miss Ross.

"Get out of here, you lowlife!" Miller slapped Viola's chilblained and cracked fingers, staining them with a hint of scarlet. She glared at him, "Do you think you can continue to laugh at me? I'm telling you, you're almost done!"

"I don't understand, Miss Miller. If this is about the room, I apologize..."

"Don't you understand?" Miller pushed the black-haired girl to the ground, and the books scattered all over the floor. She looked down at me from a high position, arrogant and proud. "The prince will soon favor me again, and the little tricks of that pointy-eared bitch will be exposed to the public soon! And you are just one of her dogs, a pariah trying to squeeze out my position. How dare you pretend to be so nice to me?"

Viola didn't know what was wrong with Matildahl. She felt extremely aggrieved and her eyes soon turned red.

"Please don't call me that!" Wei (Ao Jiula) stood up, picked up the books on the floor one by one, and raised her pretty face angrily, "Only when you respect others will others respect you!"

"So what?" Matildare kicked Viola's pile of books back onto the floor, like a tiny Chihuahua. She stood with her hands on her hips, watching Viola's frantic struggle, as if venting her anger at her pointed ears. "I told you, you and your master are finished! Humph, I still have important tasks to attend to from His Highness. I'll spare you today. You won't be able to run wild for much longer anyway!"

"I will tell His Highness about this." Viola said, biting her lip.

She is not really a punching bag, and she still has justice and fairness in her eyes.

Even though justice and righteousness are ineffective against the royal daughter, isn't the law of the king the law of the royal family? How can Psychic Dream be used against it?

Matildahl is different.

I, Viola, am the princess's friend and personal maid after all. You are not born nobler than me, so why do you dare to touch me?

Although she was reluctant to admit it, Viola still felt the security of relying on the princess - she had to file a complaint and let His Highness uphold justice!

"What? Do you think His Highness would support a dirt-cheeked little bitch like you?" Matildahl sneered. "Don't dream! That pointy-eared guy is still a veteran of the Lorraine family after all. Who do you think you are?"

"..."

Viola bit her lips even harder. She wanted to argue with Matildahl by citing classics, but she had to sort out the documents that Mrs. Aynive had selected for her, so she packed up her things again and quietly walked around the arrogant genuine puppy.