The riders all turned to look at this young man, who sighed and glanced around, appearing somewhat preoccupied.

Fang Hong looked at this extraordinarily handsome young man and couldn't help but glance back at Hilveld. However, Miss Ship's Officer seemed to be pondering previous matters, paying no notice to the people passing in front of them.

A moment later, she noticed Fang Hong's gaze and lifted her head, her sea-like eyes looking at him with a bit of amusement, "What are you looking at, Lord Captain?"

"Nothing, nothing..."

Hilveld showed a knowing look, raised her brows slightly but smiled gently, not exposing him.

The knights slowly made their way to the center of the square, where there was originally a platform. Upon reaching not far from the stage, the Duke dismounted, and the others followed suit, stepping forward on foot. The knights' dark long cloaks dragged across the snow, standing out distinctly.

They ascended the stone platform, and the ceremony seemed to have reached its most crucial moment. The square fell silent, and people held their breath in anticipation.

At this moment, the Duke turned around and raised the Phoenix Holy Sword, which had been blessed by the Old Bishop, and then drew it with a resounding sound — the longsword reflected a gleam of firelight, seeming to shine brightly amid the snow, causing everyone to squint and turn away.

But in the next moment, as people saw the Holy Sword in Duke Modkaesar's hand, they collectively let out a low cheer of admiration.

In fact, the Holy Sword was not much different from an ordinary longsword—

Just that the blade's bright light flickered unsteadily in the firelight. The sword was about three feet long, gradually narrowing from the hilt to the tip, forming a shape like a dragon's tongue, with faint flame patterns winding up along the spine.

What people admired was not so much the sword itself but rather the pride of Dulun it represented, which they witnessed every year here.

Duke Modkaesar then raised the sword in his hand, pointing towards the front of the square, his voice steady as he spoke:

"People of Dulun."

"Through the sages' blessings, we were able to open up lands here."

"The Phoenix Sword has witnessed the history of Dulun and the blood and sweat of generations before us."

"It is the symbol of the Southern Region—"

"And a testament to unyielding resilience."

"The Phoenix Soul will be birthed from the fire."

"And so we shall return from the fire."

"People of the Southern Region, gather here."

"Listen to this ancient voice."

In the square, everyone raised their heads, witnessing this moment. As if on this day every year, the ancient souls also gathered in the sky above this square, bowing their heads, silently watching the land of a thousand years.

And their descendants.

The light of fireworks in the night sky had long extinguished, leaving a vast emptiness — it was a winter's night, with only a few far stars remaining, silent and desolate, all in darkness.

Duke Modkaesar pointed the Holy Sword in his hand towards the heavens.

At that very moment, a red light leapt up from the sword, seemingly shooting straight into the sky.

However, a voice halted the ceremony at that moment, "Wait." The cold voice pierced through the square, causing everyone to frown; an interrupted ceremony was considered a bad omen.

But it was none other than the Praetor beside Duke Modkaesar who spoke, and the citizens in the square dared not voice their anger.

As for the Invokers, they were merely here for the spectacle—

Clearly, a good show was unfolding before them.

So naturally, no one would voice any objections.

The Duke forcibly stopped his action, merely frowning slightly, turning to look at this colleague from the Royal Household. He showed nothing on his face, calmly asking, "Does Lord Praetor have any concerns?"

"Not really," the Praetor calmly shook his head, "I just heard that the Phoenix Soul is known for its justice, and with the southern situation unstable recently, I have captured some rebels. I want them to face the Holy Sword and identify their accomplices."

As soon as he said this, the square erupted in discussion.

The Holy Sword is stored in the Holy Temple, available anytime; why insist on using it now? Clearly, the other party sought trouble—besides, the cause of the chaos in the Southern Region was evident to everyone, though unspoken.

Was it not the Prime Minister's side that stirred up trouble?

Nevertheless, despite the disputes, there was no objection they could make. They only looked towards the Duke, hoping that this ruler of the Southern Region would refute the unreasonable demand with a word.

But Duke Modkaesar was silent for a moment before asking, "Rebels?"

"It's also the Prime Minister's opinion," the Praetor replied, "Besides, isn't it convenient?"

Duke Modkaesar glanced at him, finally nodding.

The Praetor gave a cold smile, "I knew the Duke was loyal and dedicated."

Duke Modkaesar remained silent. The Praetor, having achieved his goal, did not press further but turned back and waved. The crowd parted, revealing a group coming forward, and people realized the other party had long been prepared.

The 'rebels' brought forth varied in age, many of them Adventurers, but no Invokers. Invokers were mostly rebellious; even if captured, they would choose to commit suicide on the spot.

And since these people were 'rebels,' none were treated well, all in ragged clothes, shivering in the snowy night. The spectators in the square, seeing this scene, couldn't help but feel a twinge of compassion, as the crowd took a collective step back.

The atmosphere at the scene became somewhat eerie for a moment.

Fang Hong looked at those on the platform. Though he did not recognize any of them, they were likely locals. A perfectly fine ceremony had turned into a tribunal, leaving him somewhat disappointed.

He looked at Hilveld again, thinking that the Noble Lady might also be considered part of the 'rebels' at this moment?

Though he did not know them, it didn't mean nobody else did. The Swordsman 'Forest' who spoke earlier suddenly let out a soft cry, "Isn't that Mr. Palomo!?"

Fang Hong was taken aback, following the gaze to see an elderly man with white hair. "Who is that?" he asked. Forest shook his head incredulously before answering, "He is Lady Miranda's old servant."

"Lady Miranda's old servant?" The Uncrowned Crown had mentioned that Lady Miranda sheltered them for a time under Feyos's instruction, but had to leave Dulun after the matter was exposed.

Her being caught was thus not surprising. But Fang Hong looked at those people and asked, "Then where is Lady Miranda? Is she among them?"

He had seen a portrait of Miranda, yet none of those on stage seemed to resemble such an outstanding lady.

'Forest' showed a sorrowful look, replying sadly, "I heard that the Prime Minister's side sentenced Lady Miranda for treason and had her hanged..."

Fang Hong was speechless at this —

He subconsciously recalled the warm-smiling lady in the picture frame, hesitating for a moment before regaining his composure. No wonder the Uncrowned Crown spoke of her with such a tone. He looked back in that direction, a sudden pang in his heart arising.

He sensed something not quite right.

...

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.