At nine o’clock, a large number of ard rebels gathered in the central park of the city. They laid down the bodies of Major and so small leaders, along with his family’s corpses.
Preparing for burial, wrapping them in turf, were placed together on the ground.
From a distance, it looked like a local snack, a food called crispy roll!
The primary ingredients for this food are various minced ats and so seasonal fruits and vegetables, with no particular requirents or emphasis on pairing.
The items are mixed together, added with so cheap spices and salt, wrapped in a palm-sized leaf called "Khaki leaf," dipped in starch, and thrown into the oil pot for deep frying.
Once fried, the exterior is crispy, while the inside is tender and smooth, with the taste of at complented by the freshness from seasonal fruits and vegetables.
This snack is generally rolled up and placed together, just like the corpses piled up in the square now.
Rolled up, stacked together.
The expressions of the rebels were filled with anger; their leader had been killed, which was a provocation to everyone.
Different weapons with unlocked safety were held in people’s hands. If the murderer appeared in front of them at this mont, he might be shot into a sieve in a second!
People clamored for revenge for the Major, wanting to kill so people, even attacking other cities. Amid heightened anger, they seed capable of destroying the entire world!
The bustling crowd suddenly quieted down from the east side, and the rate at which they cald down increased, with Major’s two aides who escaped assassination furiously looking over there, simultaneously asking others what happened.
What was it that made them all calm down...
Isabella arrived.
For the first ti since the revolt, the rebels here saw Isabella, and her transford appearance made them unrecognizable.
Short, shorn hair revealed her scalp, a radical departure from her previous image.
She wore neutral battle attire, with a gun strapped at her waist, lacking female charm and exuding a rare valor found in won.
The crowd instinctively cleared a path; after all, she was the General’s daughter. Nominally, these people were once her subordinates.
She walked straight to the center, glanced at the two aides who escaped assassination, and walked to the highest point of this small square.
Once, there stood a Marlori statue here, then the Emperor statue. After the Dynasty’s fall, it was toppled, ultimately disappearing, replaced by the General’s statue.
Yet barely a month later, the General’s statue was gone too.
The ground was uneven, marked by traces left after heavy impacts, indicating the statue was also toppled, with so scattered stones lying in unfrequented areas.
Rumor had it they knocked off the statue’s head and tossed it into the nearby river, while the torso was smashed into rubble.
Lightly leaping, Isabella grasped and supported herself against the statue’s base, standing within the crowd, surrounded by darkness.
She pointed at those bodies stacked together like crispy rolls at a snack stall and loudly declared, "They betrayed my father, betrayed our Faith!"
The words rippled through the turbulent discussions like a stone dropped into a still pond, the noise spreading outward swiftly.
Major’s two aides’ eyes reddened in an instant; they had planned to inherit the Major’s influence to establish their own group.
Isabella’s statent shattered half of their plans.
One of them rushed to the statue’s base, pointed at Isabella, and shouted loudly, "She’s lying, she’s the one who killed Major, she’s beco a lackey of the Federation!"
"Do not believe what she says!"
The voice didn’t carry far, but through word of mouth in the crowded space, it spread appreciably further.
Once again, the crowd quieted down, looking towards Isabella amidst them, seemingly waiting to see how she would respond.
Isabella wore a chilling smile on her face, looking down at the people beneath like insects, one of whom she couldn’t even recall the na of.
Such a small character dared to challenge her; it was utterly laughable.
She then looked at the others, who quietly watched her. They shared a common feature: blue or bluish-grey eyes, all being Marlori people.
Though not entirely; after the Marlori Dynasty’s fall, ethnic segregation dissolved.
Initially, the aim of overthrowing the Imperial Family was to end their cruel rule, a goal achieved in the early stages.
Hatred between the Marlori and Mariluo people seed to ease; they began to love each other, with so marrying, even birthing mixed children—they deed them mixed, as they belonged to two different races.
But all these shattered with the Warlord’s increasingly ambitious sches, reigniting Mariluo against Marlori, with the mixed ones becoming the unluckiest batch.
Neither Marlori took them seriously, for they had bluish-grey eyes, seen as the desecrated lineage—impure blood within them.
No matter how well they perford, they were just ordinary people.
Nor did the Mariluo like them, believing these mixes originated from "rape," that Marlori raped Mariluo, resulting in their birth. They were seen as a symbol of ugliness, lingering only at the bottom.
There has never been a mixed heritage individual in a high position; they can only mingle at the bottom.
This is also why things are going well over at Sanchez’s side; given the chance, these mixed heritage people will all run to him.
After all, he claims there is no racial opposition, peaceful coexistence, and fighting for the sa ho.
There will always be fools who believe it!
This propaganda holds no allure for the pure Mariluos and Marlorians, but it’s very enticing for those of mixed heritage.
Thinking of this, Isabella also made a decision.
She will not be as blatant as Sanchez says, but she will act without speaking.
In just a blink, she thought of many things, then gathered her thoughts and continued, "Before my father, the General, was assassinated, the Major already knew about the assassination plot."
"He didn’t tell , didn’t tell my brothers, and especially didn’t tell the General. He just watched the General get assassinated, watched the forces we’ve worked so hard for collapse!"
"He’s a criminal, a traitor!" Isabella looked down at the clown before her, "Were you involved in the assassination of the General, did you let them in?"
The crowd erupted once more; though the General to them was more of a concept, a banner, a significance.
But while the General was alive, at least their lives weren’t problematic.
Every month, they received their living wages on ti, and there were few high-intensity ard conflicts. In such an environnt, life was indeed a blessing for those living in constant turmoil!
Emotions are always influenced by others, with few able to maintain stability in their emotional state.
Listening to Isabella, thinking about their now empty stomachs, those before them suddenly beca odious.
The crowd surged like waves, even a gaton frigate would sway before them.
Seeing those furious faces, a confidant of the Major, amid being jostled, couldn’t help but shout, "I also disagree with this approach..."
The nearby crowd suddenly quieted down, and what he said quickly spread surrounding them, the angry crowd instantly fell silent.
Everyone looked at Isabella; actually, what this person said earlier proved that Isabella wasn’t lying.
Isabella looked at the two, shook her head, "Execute them!"
An ordinary ard man suddenly drew the dagger in his hand and stabbed the waist of the nearest junior officer.
The officer turned sharply, pushing that man away, the soldier staggered back two steps, arms flailing.
In quick succession, a bayonet pierced into the officer’s back.
It’s the Marlori custom, if soone betrays another and is caught, they’re stabbed to death from behind!
Bayonet, dagger, these sharp weapons lodged in his body were not pulled out, aning he’d live longer than expected.
Weapons kept piercing his body, his despair mounted.
Pushed around in the crowd, when he collapsed, his back already carried over twenty different weapons.
The other t a similar fate, pinned to the ground, soone sliced off his tongue, punishing him for lying.
Gouged out his eyes, punishing his poor judgent.
They cut off his face, letting him et death in "sha."
Finally, two or three dozen daggers, bayonets pierced into his body...
In the brief mont, watching them turn into corpses, Isabella’s lips curled up slightly.
Of course, there were still dissatisfactions; like so far, no one has shouted her na, signaling no choice of subordination yet.
She made a discreet gesture, several soldiers distinctly unlike locals, fully ard, carried two large boxes to the statue’s base.
The boxes were one and a half ters long, fifty centiters high, fifty centiters wide.
They raised the boxes high, laying them at her feet.
She personally opened a box, then kicked it over.
A heap of Federation Sol spilled over the ground with a clatter—it was money!
"Isabella..."
Soone raised a weapon, shouting her na.
Soon, more people raised weapons, chanting her na.
These voices ultimately synchronized, leaving only one sound echoing across the square—her na!
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