Chapter 1755 - 491: Blood Race from Demon City Arrived Before the Nobles of the Holy City

The smoke of the Winter Moon Coup had not yet fully dispersed, yet the prosperity of Thunder City seemed largely untouched.

The shops on Queen Street still opened their doors to customers, exquisitely decorated carriages wove endlessly across the cobbled road, and the passersby, dressed to the nines, did their utmost to maintain the decorum befitting this great metropolis.

However, this was only the surface.

An invisible oppression hung in the air.

Fully armed soldiers could be seen at every street corner, the number of patrolling guards was twice what it used to be, and all of them had rifles slung over their shoulders.

Their expressions were stern as they swept wary gazes over every passerby; in the teahouses and cafés tucked into corners and alleys, the relaxed chatter and hearty laughter of the past could no longer be heard.

People spoke in low voices; smiles were rarely seen on their faces, as though an unseen cloud hovered over the city, pressing down upon their features as well.

Civil war has never been anything glorious.

Unlike the war to reinforce the Twilight Province, now it was their neighbors and relatives dying over something utterly baffling.

They only wished for it all to be over soon.

And then everyone would act as if it had never happened, never speaking of it again.

"Extra! Extra! Latest news on the Campbell civil war!"

A newsboy's shout tore through the oppressive air as he waved the newspapers in his hands, darting through the crowd.

"Edward's new army has surrounded Glanton Castle! The rebel army's main force has been annihilated! Only routed stragglers are still putting up a desperate resistance—it's only a matter of time before the enemy surrenders!"

"The war is about to end!"

People rushed over at once; the papers in the newsboy's arms were split up in an instant, exchanged for a big sack of copper coins that were still in circulation.

Though the people of Queen Street adored silver pounds, at this moment silver pounds were a rather troublesome thing for the newsboy.

Every now and then a gentleman would pay with a silver pound, and he would have to spend a long time calculating how much change to give that generous gentleman.

But there were lucky times too, when that generous gentleman could not be bothered to stuff a handful of grimy iron coins into his pocket, and simply left the remainder as a tip.

The people who got their papers stood on the street corners and read quickly, searching between the lines for important information, especially any sign that concerned their Future.

Fortunately, the Divine were watching over them, answering the silent prayers in their hearts.

The vast majority of them found what they were looking for in the newspaper, and a look of relief spread across their faces.

"Sir Wesley has inflicted a crushing defeat on the famed general Hanor! This young officer is a citizen of our Thunder City!"

"Disgraceful! The army of the Noble Alliance Army is bearing the flag of the Ryan Kingdom! Our Nobles have actually colluded with foreign Nobles!"

"The King is the chief culprit!"

The illustration on the front page was wildly exaggerated: a blood-drenched crown clutched in the hand of an old man who looked like a Zombie.

And beneath the shadow of the crown lay a heap of nameless bones.

It was without a doubt an allusion to King Ryan Theoden—especially since atop that crown stood a roaring lion, the symbol of the Devalu family!

Recently there had been a growing trend in Thunder City: the people's pent-up fury, with nowhere to go, was consciously or unconsciously directed at that aging Your Majesty.

What was more interesting, the events in Thunder City were entirely different from those in Twilight City; behind them there was no "Salvation Army" or Demon King at work.

It was a shared conviction that had arisen spontaneously among the people.

Whether those whose bodies were like dust, or those who had been born under the sun, they had all, without prior agreement, realized where their suffering came from.

Pointing their swords at the King was the first step.

One day, they would point their swords at all arrogant Kings, and in the end direct them at the Imperial power that indulged all that arrogance.

In that repressed crowd, one figure seemed oddly out of place.

It was a girl in a black Western dress, the expensive lace hem of her skirt swaying slightly with her light, graceful gait.

Such opulent clothing was not rare on Queen Street, where socialites and ladies of fashion appeared in flocks; what was rare was the delicate black parasol in her hand, and the faint, elusive smile at the corner of her lips.

Thunder City's winter had no glaring sun in need of shielding, and in the Thunder City of today, few people could still manage a smile.

"Ku-ku-ku… As expected of my dear elder brother. With just the slightest move of his hand, he's already reached a ceiling countless Demon Kings could never touch in their entire lives."

Far too strong.

Looking at the soldiers on duty at the street corner, she raised the little hand gloved in lace, lightly covering her red lips and that low "ku-ku-ku" laugh.

The young man standing guard, however, completely misread the situation. He thought the Noble girl across the street was smiling at him; blushing, he straightened his back even more.

That was purely a misunderstanding.

The citizens of Thunder City always assumed Vampires liked Human blood, but in truth the Blood Race of the Colin Duchy only favored the blood of their "beloved," or the even more expensive Minotaur Blood.

The former was romance; the latter was taste.

The enjoyment of life was not a privilege reserved to Humans; the Demons of Hell knew how to enjoy themselves as well, their revelry and debauchery in no way inferior to that of the Holy City.

After all, exploitation of Humans by Humans still carried a sense of moral guilt, whereas the exploitation of goblins by Demons was seen as the natural order of things—even the goblins themselves thought so.

Half a step behind Vivian walked Nanfu Colin, currently on his winter vacation.

This delicate-featured youth wore a well-tailored tailcoat, but his face was tight with nervousness, utterly at odds with his noble bearing.