The Villain Princess survived the Imperial Riot

If there really is a sister who lures a female knight into becoming a blackbait, and uses a ritual to share the power of order and pretend to be a high knight, it would theoretically work.

"What if my sister takes over my body..."

"Shut up! Are you trying to kill yourself?" Marilyn stuffed Odile's mouth with cake. "Don't even listen to or think about this kind of nonsense, okay? The great cause of the sisterhood can't be ruined just because of a few careless words from you."

"I'm sorry, sister." Odile humbly admitted her mistake. "But where did the princess learn this ceremonial dance?"

"Perhaps, as Chloe said, she has indeed interacted with members of the sisterhood." Marilyn, remembering the princess's "three-word knot," shook her head. "Never mind. Regardless, we've reached an agreement with the Empire now. You can simply focus on recruiting new sisters."

She could foresee that with the princess's "advertisement", the Swallowtail Butterfly Fashion Store would become the signature of the Yunling fashion world, and the sisterhood's luxury goods industry would sweep across Fran with the princess's support. Elegant young ladies and wealthy ladies would flock to the sisterhood's club.

With financial support, the sisterhood can naturally cultivate more secret societies, recruit adventurers and mercenaries, and further strangle the followers of the Fungus Skeleton.

The party is over.

Some of the guests who came from afar stayed at the manor and were entertained by the Chamber of Commerce, while more people boarded carriages and boats to prepare for their return journey.

Just as she was about to get in the car, Viola suddenly remembered something and said, "Oh, Your Highness, I forgot about Domis! She still wants to talk to me. Your Highness, have you seen her? Is she still waiting for me?"

Hestia thought for a moment and said, "It was there then, but it's been so long, I don't know if it's still there."

"Your Highness, please wait for me..."

Viola apologized and ran toward the Mahogany Hotel on the beach.

As soon as I arrived at the hotel door, I saw a distraught canary walking out.

"Domis!" The black-haired girl waved her hand.

Domis raised her head. Her shoulder-length, pale blond hair was slightly curled, as if she had just washed it but not dried it yet, and the wet strands were matted together.

Viola ran over and took Domis's hand. She subconsciously shrank back, making the black-haired girl a little embarrassed: "Domis, I'm sorry, the dance lasted a little long... Why are you wearing a yukata?"

Domis also realized that her behavior was inappropriate. She forced a smile and said, "I just took a shower. I thought you were not coming, so I was planning to go back."

"How could this happen... I'm so, so sorry!" Viola apologized, "What did you want to tell me before? Is it too late for me now? Hey... Domise, don't cry."

"I, didn't." Domis said through gritted teeth, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry, don't be mad at me..." Viola was uneasy. Seeing her usually strong friend crying like this, she seemed at a loss. "Um, I, I..."

"Viola." Domis took a deep breath and said suddenly, "I like you."

"I know, eh..." Viola was nodding her head, and suddenly she thought of something and looked surprised.

"I like you, that's exactly what I want to say." Domis gritted her teeth, holding back the fire in her throat, and forced back her tears bit by bit. "You like me too... right?"

"We are good friends forever, and I like Domis very much, but if Domis is talking about..." Viola said hesitantly, "that kind of love... I'm sorry... I actually... have someone I like."

"That princess?" Domis was struck by lightning.

These words coming from Viola's mouth were far more heartbreaking than the dragon's teasing.

"Well... you can guess it, right?" Viola said with a shy look on her face. "I didn't expect you to tell me this, but... Domis, I don't hate you, but I'm already with His Highness."

Domis took two steps back with a blank look in her eyes and a pale face.

"I'm sorry, Domis... His Highness's carriage is here, and I need to go back. Can you calm down for a moment?" Viola didn't know how to comfort her friend. She was equally bewildered, so she could only go forward and hug Domis, leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek. "We're still friends, right, Domis?"

"Yes..." Domis didn't know how painful it was when she said this.

Viola smiled and said sincerely, "Thank you, Domis. Your Highness is still waiting for me. I'll come to see you next time when I have time!"

Seeing that Domis had no objection, she hugged her friend again, turned her back, and ran towards the carriage.

Domis looked over the car window and saw the silver dragon with its chin propped up, looking as if it was smiling.

Fire ignited in the blonde girl's eyes.

She turned and walked away with her back to Viola, her anger burning with determination.

There is no turning back.

Volume 106: Bird in a Cage: . Fox, save me!

The small town of Papo, located in the southern suburbs more than 20 miles away from Genting's main city, attracts a constant stream of tourists with its Flower Dance Festival in April. Nobles, businessmen, literary masters, artists, and the well-dressed middle class, men and women, dressed in fine clothes, stroll among the flower exhibitions and enjoy the gardens.

In contrast to the bright spring sunshine is the tree-lined courtyard outside the dock warehouse. The faint aroma of tobacco and cocoa beans fills the air, and overgrown weeds cover a stone path.

A brown-skinned man in his fifties, wearing a three-cornered hat and captain's uniform, opened the fence and walked across the deserted road that was clean and tidy three days ago, towards the mansion behind the villa.

The man knocked on the door first, but no one answered. He then saw the surrounding trees and weeds twisting in unnatural patterns, their rotten bark cracking, and young falcons with spread wings flew out. As soon as they took off, they turned into leaves and insect eggs and scattered all over the ground, repeating the cycle over and over again.

He pondered for a moment, crushed the door handle, and stepped into the dark mansion.

Following the traces of change, the man entered a spacious bedroom. The incense burner still emitted the fragrance of a young girl's spring boudoir. The heavy curtains blocked out any light, and the room felt sweet and oppressive. The leaf-veined wallpaper cracked, emitting sharp, feather-like spikes, and the air was filled with the bloody aroma of ripped internal organs.

A petite figure sat quietly on the peach-pink embroidered mattress, staring at the dark outside the window without saying a word.

"Domis." the man called out.

"Marcusi, you are also in the Old World." The girl turned around.

"You are so unhappy to see me. Who has offended you? I will help you catch him and cut off his scalp with a knife." The man laughed heartily twice, but stopped immediately with a deep look in his eyes.

"No one."

"Isn't that like you? Or have these past few years in the Old World made you prefer to hide your thoughts?" Marcuse shook his head. "If things in the Old World are difficult for you, then go home. Your home will always be across the ocean."

"I come from here, Marcuse, and my path runs here."

"They said you haven't left the house in three days. It seems you're trying to make further progress." Marcuse shook his head. "Haste makes waste. You should understand that."

"I understand...Marcusi, I know what to do."

"Well, it's normal for young people to have their own ideas. I believe you are at least more sensible than that fool Gregor," said Marcuse. "But you must attend tonight's dinner. Everyone has come all the way here, you can't still be sleeping in the Dream House, right? Haha."

"Ok."

"..." Markusi shrugged his broad shoulders and walked out the door. "Remember, Domis, no matter what trouble you have, your family will do anything for you."

The door closed and the room returned to silence.

"family……"

The blonde girl's throat was hoarse, tired yet hot, like the low lava under a volcano.

She lifted her long sleeves, revealing a faint red scar on her left forearm. On her knees, a charred wooden music box played dry, low notes, like the ripped throat of a canary. The memory of the fire resurfaced, and she closed her eyes.

There was never any peace in Fran. In countless unknown valleys, villages, and towns, the sparks of rebellion ignited and extinguished every week.

The rebellious serfs killed tax collectors and attacked the lords' manors and towns. Most of the time, such rebellions were quickly suppressed by the lords' armies, but sometimes, the rebel leaders would be promised leniency and tax reductions and return to the fields, only to be hanged on the gallows the following month.

There are rare chances that the rebels can defeat the lords' poorly trained private armies, occupy towns, and hang the lords' heads on flagpoles - but this seemingly hopeful victory is actually the beginning of despair.

When unrest affects hundreds of thousands or even millions of people, the military district stationed in Fran will take action.

Within three days, news of the rebellion being suppressed would spread to all places: towns and cities. Within seven days, news of the rebellion being killed, revived and massacred would appear in the villages. Half a month later, the black-uniformed soldiers, rats, and demons would arrive belatedly.

The villager who had lived in poverty for half his life suddenly discovered that I was the rebel.

The fire burned for three days, and she hid for three days. The fishy rain was like nectar, its strange sweetness seeping into the cellar and spreading on the tip of her tongue.

After she was led out by the white robe, she discovered that the rain had seeped onto the carpet from beneath the charred bodies of a man and a woman. The man was a craftsman, holding a cheap music box.

Whether I was three or four years old, my memory did not fade with the passage of time. Instead, it became clearer in my dreams.

Most of the bodies were piled up and burned, while a few were scattered around. Wild wolves and giant bears roamed the woods.

Domis opened a book, and the words on the pages fluttered like the wind. Scrolls, cloth, carpets, twisted in spirals, rose to the ceiling. The wooden ceiling seemed to be melting like stalactites. The earth rose and the sky fell, and a doorway opened in an invisible place.

"Heberus..."

……

The princess has been in a good mood recently. On the one hand, the assassin's conspiracy was thwarted and the secret practitioners of Yunting Villa began to obey orders in an orderly manner. On the other hand, the impeachment and investigation of the Tingsen family were also proceeding step by step.

From Noelle's personal grudges to Yunling's power struggles, she obviously has considerable friction with the Tingsen family. And if we consider that the Tingsen family is a supporter of the Crown Prince, then this friction will naturally escalate into a grudge.

It was naturally impossible to overthrow the generations of warlords in the palace, but Hestia still had some confidence in getting the Tingsen family's influence out of Yunling.

As for whether the Tingson family dared to conspire with the rebels and wait for an opportunity to murder her, it was not so important.

Yunling's rice bowl is so small, if she wants to take others to share a piece of the pie, there will inevitably be other people who go hungry.

It was not until the summer of 1811 in the Glorious Calendar that the great rebellion that swept the empire put the Iron Army at a disadvantage in Fran and made it difficult to stop the killing. In other words, she had ten years to deal with the crisis and change the course of official history.

According to official history, after the disintegration of the empire, the backstab of the glorious blade caused Fran to split into three factions, which gave the Iron Cross a respite and still held the mountains north of the capital.

What Hestia needs to do is to turn the three-party game in Fran into an arena for a battle royale among hundreds or thousands of forces. Once Fran becomes a purgatory, she can not only sit back and relax in her hometown of Lorraine, but also continue to fish in troubled waters and wait for an opportunity to become the peace-loving arbitrator.

"The Iron Army's heyday will only last a few years." The princess murmured while tapping the desk.

"Hmm?" Iyana, who was sorting documents, raised her head.

"Nothing." The princess smiled and shook her head.

Fran must be sold as soon as possible, otherwise, in a few years, when the emperor's expedition fails, those lackeys kneeling under the iron hoof of the empire will no longer think about "what a real man should be like."

Hestia asked, "Iyana, do you have any insights into prophecy?"

"I've learned some divination. Certain star positions can reflect some aspects of fate in the astral plane... but I'm not very good at it." Iyana shook her head. "Also, there's a difference between prophecy and divination. They both appear to offer a glimpse into the future, but they're in different fields. Legend has it that those mythological masters of prophecy can even influence the course of history... Is Hedi recruiting a prophet?"

"No, I want you to learn about some of the witch's prophecies," Hestia said, "such as 'the day the tower collapses, the veil falls in shadow, worms gnaw at the light, the rifts spread evil, the dead walk the earth, and history loses its order.'"

"I'll keep an eye on it." Iyana nodded.

"I will go to the prayer room to meditate later. The secret cultivation in the villa has been a bit chaotic recently. You will protect me outside."

"Ok."

During this period, Hestia was busy with various chores and had no time to study the powers she had obtained. Now that she had some free time, she naturally needed to make good use of it.

Time in dreams differs from reality. Sometimes, vast eons pass, while the material world seems but a moment. Sometimes, a single moment of meditation can feel like a day and night in the material world.

Although this can control the fluctuations within a rough range based on the arrangement of the ceremony, sufficient preparation is still required.

When meditating, the mystic does not lose his subtle perception of the material world. The reason why Hestia asked Iyana to serve her was mainly to prevent the unfaithful ritual from being spied on.

"Hetty, why do you put the statue of the God-Emperor outside?" In front of the prayer room, the elf was holding a stone statue.

"This time, I'm trying a different ritual. I'm afraid it would be disrespectful to have the God-Emperor inspect it," Hestia said perfunctorily. She and Iyana knew each other intimately, so she wasn't worried about the elves' suspicions. "Remember that box?"

"If it has something to do with the princess's relics, then I won't ask." Iyana said.

The Divine Emperor's domain is Order, Eternity, and the Light. When the princess wanted to try a path ritual beyond these, Iyana immediately realized the connection between the princess's relics.