Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

My vision grew increasingly blurry, but my intuition grew ever clearer. Thousands of bright, clear lights were bestowed upon my eyes, each with a different color, crystal clear, like the rendering of emotions, like the splashing of ink.

Looking down, she saw the undying demonic insects fluttering their thin wings, quietly circling around her, as if protecting the birth of their kind. She saw the people behind her with eyes full of admiration and hope, just like the candles illuminating the night.

As if she had gone through the process of hatching from a wet egg and emerging from a cocoon, Charlotte's silver-grey eyes gradually began to glow with the same radiance of dawn. She could see clearly the difference between good and evil, between lies and truth, and thus judge justice or sin.

Without delirium or ignorance, without fullness or discomfort, the wickedness mentioned by Ms. Mosang failed to taint her; instead, the young girl felt a profound sense of understanding.

—The extraordinary qualities acted on her pupils, and the aftereffects of the advancement were negligible. Even though her clear eyes were infused with several demonic insects, she could digest all the demonic potions that entered her throat as soon as she stepped into them. As long as she had another opportunity, she could advance smoothly and without hindrance.

It's like being refined in an instant.

Breaking free from the separation of mind and body, Charlotte lowered her consciousness and merged with her body.

Not only can the puppet body, but the main body on the other end can also exercise the power of arbitration, and words become law.

Furthermore, the spirit of the potion's effect seems to occupy only a small part of her consciousness, like an island emerging from the sea. Besides this island, there is an endless ocean and a boundless sky waiting to be painted. She seems to be able to accommodate more than one extraordinary path.

It's amazing, but it's a good thing, so there's no need to worry.

In fact, the process of making the potion went quite smoothly. She had already gathered the auxiliary ingredients at the apothecary. Her own blood was also blue blood. When the bullets grazed her skin, blood dripped out. When the glowing talisman attracted thousands of demonic insects to the waning moon, causing moths to fly into the flame, the main ingredients and solvents were fused together under countless coincidences and she drank it down her throat.

I must say, I am exceptional, blessed with good fortune, and truly worthy of being called myself.

Feeling something deep inside, but showing it on her face, she slowly raised the muzzle of her gun, pointing it at the traitor on the other side. Under the gaze of the crowd, she exhaled softly and said:

"Lies are forbidden here."

With her gaze rising above the bar, Charlotte, unfamiliar with the place and unable to follow orders, found herself branded and marked by the presence of the people behind her and the audience, turning the area into her domain.

Step by step, following the voice of the prohibition, the girl walked slowly forward, amidst stray arrows and bullets.

Gao Bang's leather boots stomped on the polished floor, and streaks of bright red blood bloomed on his skin. The thin, frail figure moved nimbly through the gunfire, approaching with a soft rattling sound.

For a moment, even the groans of pain and the sound of snow fell silent.

she says:

"If you pray for rain, then you must endure the mud."

If they have betrayed the people for their own private interests, then they must swallow the bitter pill that is now being served.

"Why remain silent, Mr. Bright?"

Her bangs, wet with blood, clung to Watson's pale cheeks, while her braided hair, reaching her neck, slowly cascaded down her shoulders. This frail girl, struggling against all odds, was strikingly eye-catching, yet without the slightest sense of incongruity.

She is both the arbitrator and the executioner.

"Damn it."

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he cursed under his breath, the usually impeccably dressed man unable to offer any rebuttal.

The differences between the sequences were easily smoothed out. Countless demonic insects had not yet left, and pairs of ordinary people's eyes and ears were also watching him closely, suppressing his spirituality and rendering him speechless.

Bright never imagined that a young girl would lead a weary mob, the lowest of the low, to question him and judge his crimes.

This is too absurd, too ridiculous, like a play being performed on stage.

She is the lead actress, and he is the villain.

Unable to lie against the public eye, Bright simply revealed his murderous intent. Even if his extraordinary abilities bound his tongue, as long as he killed the girl in front of him, he could speak freely and deceive and suppress these weak refugees as he always had.

All I need to do is kill her.

"Dewey, disturb her mind!"

The obedient man responded with a sharp shout, causing a piercing, hoarse sound to echo throughout the bar, tearing through the air and vibrating his eardrums.

However, the next moment, three bullets accurately pierced his throat, hit his frontal lobe, and penetrated his heart.

"Quiet, okay? Everyone is watching and listening."

......

I said quiet, and then it became quiet.

There was no noise or commotion; it was so quiet that you could hear the hoarse howl of the sea breeze, and the hissing sound of someone clutching their throat, their body going limp, and their trachea breaking.

That's how it should be; in the courtroom, during a trial, silence is essential.

Similarly, this includes the lurking shadow.

Turning around to look behind her ear, in a corner beyond her sight, a phantom shadow squeezed out like a thin sheet, suddenly lunging at Charlotte in the halo of the kerosene lamp.

Is this what makes Bright so extraordinary?

It's pretty cool, but since it doesn't belong to me, I won't allow it.

Her thin lips uttered sharp words:

"This place, under the watchful eyes of everyone, is strictly forbidden."

In an instant, the shadows dissipated, the candlelight flickered, and Brett was also stunned, staring blankly at Charlotte.

"Why, you—"

"—How is this possible? By bypassing the sequence and sealing my abilities?"

"Yes!" The man nodded subconsciously, then realized his mistake. Anger and panic surged into his lungs, making his breathing increasingly rapid. "You bitch, how dare you!"

Drawing his straight sword, even with his extraordinary abilities restricted, he was confident that his height and size advantage would allow him to easily kill the girl before him.

However, a cane struck the hilt of the sword first, causing a sharp pain in the tiger's mouth and nearly knocking it out of his hand.

“What is there to be afraid of, you traitor to the workers, Mr. Cunning?”

Charlotte retracted her cane, swung it lightly halfway around, and spoke loudly.

“You are guilty, and under the watchful eyes of the people, it is only natural that you cannot overcome my expectations.”

The silver revolver hovered between his fingers, and when fired at the right moment, it broke his knee and pierced his elbow, forcing him to kneel down and prostrate himself before the girl.

“Tell the truth, Bright. I think you should be happy to share what you’ve done, your betrayals, your indulgence in debauchery and pleasure.”

Seeing the gun barrel raised again, Bright panicked and realized his predicament, so he immediately begged.

"Wait a minute, madam, I can give you it, I can give you all of it—wealth, power, even the potion recipe, anything! Just... you'll spare me..."

A vivid lament lingered in his ears; when the extraordinary faded and the power stripped away, the man's ugliness was fully revealed, but alas—

“This is not a request. Negotiations are based on equality between us, and now—” Charlotte chuckled, suddenly gripping her cane and thrusting it straight at him. Bright instinctively raised his sword to block, but she changed her thrust into a slash. The wooden cane slid along the straight blade and struck the man’s knee hard, leaving a bewitching purplish-red mark on it.

The intense pain instantly caused Bright to kneel down, unable to lift his head again.

Seeing this, Charlotte simply shrugged. "Now, this is called an order."

"Actually, it's not so shameful to grovel for your life. Besides, didn't you do that before?"

A bead of sweat trickled down Bright's forehead and slid slowly down his cheek.

He wanted to lie, but the law forbade it.

“I’ll talk, I’ll talk. I’m guilty of heinous crimes. As the leader of the union, I served Sir Bathory, taking bribes and exploiting the workers. But I didn’t touch those things much; I just left them there. If you can spare my life, I’m willing…”

Before he could finish speaking, Bright saw the silver-haired girl raise the muzzle of her gun, shake her head, and whisper:

"Do not."

boom--

Gunshots rang out, the tip of the cane slashed, striking the corpse and throwing the man's body from the bar, where it landed on the street in the cold wind, falling to the sight of onlookers, and smashing into a pile of mud.

The sudden turn of events silenced everyone. They looked at each other in bewilderment, but when they recalled the words they had just spoken, a feeling of indignation and triumph stirred their hearts and shattered their preconceived notions.

Gradually, some people stood up, some clapped, some cheered, and said:

"Good death!"

Chapter Sixty-Two: The Second Puppet?

The snow curtain was blurred and uncertain, the room was filled with extravagance and decadence, the dim coal lamp creaked and finally went out, the fireplace was washed by the cold wind, and the traitor was executed by everyone.

The sinner, filled with deep fear, perished before the eyes and ears of the people. For the first time, the powerful and influential were torn down by their hands with just a gentle tug, and it was all too easy.

Blood blossomed, overflowing onto the piles of people's hard-earned money, staining the clean carpet and washing the pleasing bricks, just as the humility and cowardice in people's hearts were breached, letting in a ray of morning light.

As I straightened my bent knees, a realization welled up within me—

Lords can be overthrown, traitors can be tried, and what they sacrifice will ultimately benefit them.

As the sun rose in the east, illuminating the sea of ​​clouds, a new year gave way to the past. They saw the young girl slowly turn around and raise her right hand high, as if gathering the cascading morning light, shining brilliantly.

she says:

"Even though there was bloodshed and tears, this was not a riot that could be seen anywhere in Tingen, but a revolution."

she says:

"No one is born inferior, and there is no savior. We create true happiness with our own hands. We must reclaim the fruits of our labor and let our minds break free from their shackles!"

The rosy dawn, carrying a crimson glow, descended upon the girl. The climate there was pleasant, the flowers and grasses were in full bloom, and it was the place everyone longed for.

Without a lofty stature, the angel spreads its wings and extends its right hand of salvation from an equal altitude, just like Raphael in the Bible spreading his six wings, leading you into warm light, holy and approachable.

She spoke:

"Comrades."

Slowly but firmly, they gradually joined in:

"Comrades!"

And so, last night passed with that claim.

What's past is past; memories fade like smoke, easily blown away by the wind. For most citizens of Tingen, it was just a special yet ordinary day of celebration, perhaps filled with laughter and blessings for a long life, but many more equally joyful days will follow, so it's not worth dwelling on too much.

But for those who experienced it firsthand, it was an unforgettable memory, a profound breakthrough from old knowledge. They passed on this belief and shared this banner and awareness with the public.

Similarly, this was quite different for the major newspapers that came to investigate; big news that was usually extremely rare suddenly appeared overnight.

They rushed to grab the headlines, and so the Fisherman's Bar welcomed its guests: a group of sharks that had come following the trail of blood.

The morning breeze rustled through the treetops by the window, and the low-rise buildings with pointed roofs were bathed in sunlight, losing their cool tones and gaining a warm glow.

Inside the iron vertical railing, a blonde beauty stretched out her slender fingers from under the covers, letting her two fair hands pick up a newspaper and lazily flip through it.

[At the turn of the year, Brett Cunningham was found dead overnight. Was this due to a mass riot or partisan strife? And who was responsible for the fatal shot?]

Who is it?

Of course it's me.

Upon seeing the headline, Charlotte straightened her back with considerable pride, causing her ample breasts to tremble slightly, exuding undeniable allure.

Then downwards.

[The India Party is falling apart; according to rumors, a large number of workers went to Fuya Street and Fisherman's Bar last night.]

Sticking to their own interpretations, the major newspapers did not conceal the story, but focused on it extensively, unanimously putting it on their front pages. Undoubtedly, it was the most sensational event in Tingen recently, apart from the Flower Exhibition.

However, this is not the case. Last night, blood flowed and evil was punished—but this was not a riot or a conflict, but an awakening of the human heart.

The only surprising thing was that Miss Watson's name didn't appear anywhere.

It was rare for Charlotte to have sparked such a forward-thinking movement, and as the instigator, she naturally flipped through the newspapers with great interest.

Looking down, Brett Canning's death did cause a stir, but only a stir. Most people, including the police, thought he died in partisan strife. The bullet hole landed precisely on his neck, but due to the secondary damage to the wound, the corresponding bullet pattern could not be found. It was hard to imagine that a port worker could have such marksmanship.

Those involved also kept quiet, concealing Miss Watson's identity, and did their best to help the frail girl.

Alas, what a pity. Although it was beneficial to her, Charlotte now has another identity to hide before heading to the final stage.

In this world, it's not even okay to openly and honestly do good deeds. Can things ever get any better?

Well, what can I do? I'm just an outstanding person, like a star in the night. Every little thing I do can stir up the emotions of the whole city. Ah, it's both admirable and heartbreaking.

I casually tossed the newspaper into the air, letting it fall gracefully to the fifth page, where an advertisement appeared—Kangnuo Sales Office's 8 PM promotion.

It seems tonight will be anything but peaceful; Mr. True Knowledge will once again host an extraordinary gathering.

The timing is right, which allows me to properly digest the gains of the past few days and exchange them for items that can enhance my strength.

The perspective shifts, and the silvery-gray Moon Lake reflects the first rays of dawn. Miss Watson lowers her felt hat and closes the windows of the inn.

Before her now lie four soft, glutinous objects, which are the condensation of spirituality and the characteristics extracted from the bodies of the extraordinary after death.

One is the purplish-black Nightmare Fuel, which seems to burn with specks of blue flame inside, resembling a shadow that has come to life. It was left behind by Brett Canning and its ability is almost like an extension of his body, manipulating shadows.