Ximil City.
Surrounded by a group of guards, the figure of Annie Potter appeared at the port. Just as she was about to return to her palace, a commotion arose in front of her. Imdiately, a guard reported that a group had blocked her path and showed no inclination to give way.
Who would dare to block her path?
A trace of displeasure crossed Annie Potter’s face. She had been the queen of Ximil for almost half a year, relying on the foundation Duncan had laid and the recent legends about the steppe Khan. Her days among the overseas Island Countries were going well.
She was a very clever woman, always identifying herself as Duncan’s woman in formal occasions, and even placed an empty throne in the palace’s main hall.
The aning was that Duncan still held the throne of the Ximil Island Country.
Even if that man didn’t care, she still did what needed to be done, after all, their relationship was indeed special.
It was a situation where everything got through.
This was a kingdom made up of four small islands, similar to places like Corsica Island in the diterranean. Annie Potter governed this land fairly well. A population of about one million was entirely within her capacity, and her gentle thods garnered support from many people.
Such overseas Island Countries, as long as they didn’t bring about their own destruction or perish at the hands of strong enemies, might even develop a Monarchy Constitutional System in the future.
"It’s the Priest of the Lady of Fury."
At this point, a concubine beside her softly said, "Your Highness. Perhaps we should let them pass first."
A hint of indistinct anger flashed across Annie Potter’s face. She then nodded slightly, saying, "Then we’ll wait for a bit."
After all, Duncan was no longer here.
It wasn’t until Duncan left that she realized everything she had was given by that man. Once he left here, Annie Potter’s status and power declined significantly, making it even impossible to suppress divine authority with royal power.
At the front of the guards was a luxurious carriage, in which sat a Sea God Priest dressed in luxurious fur, sitting on a Persian carpet. His attire resembled that of a wealthy old rchant of the era, exuding an air of nouveau riche.
The other party wore several gem rings on his thick fingers, accompanied by beautiful female slaves on both sides and an alluring prostitute from Dibite in his arms. The Sea God Priest paid no mind to blocking the queen’s chariot, instead casually taking a sip from a crystal goblet and leisurely ordering the convoy to move on.
Behind the convoy followed about a dozen drunken barbarian Sea Warriors, reeking of alcohol, seemingly having just feasted.
The Golden Coast was extrely prosperous.
Especially since the sea here was relatively calm and very suitable for mariti trade, after claiming this territory, the church that worshipped the Lady of Fury also got a share. The Divine Spirit itself had little need for worldly wealth, so naturally, this wealth fell into the hands of the Priesthood.
Everyone took a bit, and all beca unbelievably wealthy. Daily life was extrely extravagant, and the barbarians, accustod to hard tis, fell into decadence remarkably quickly after suddenly becoming rich.
Drinking, brawling, seeking won, indulging in luxury, living more excessively than the priests of Monotheism where the Divine Spirit’s gaze didn’t reach.
This was just the overseas islands, and it was even more severe over at the Golden Coast.
The Furious Gods didn’t actively do anything, they just made the barbarians wealthy.
In so places, they even intentionally elevated the status of the Barbarian Race, fostering a toxic atmosphere that led the natives to despise these crude and savage individuals.
With the mind of barbarians and no restraint, they could easily destroy themselves.
Many places were ssed up by them, leaving the populace in an uproar.
In just half a year, they virtually lost the people’s hearts.
The Furious Gods weren’t any better off, as their cult forced mortals to make sacrifices to please the Divine Spirits.
"The Barbarian Race has corrupted so quickly."
Anne Potter, lost in thought about sothing, realized that with Duncan backing her, no Sea God Priest would dare show her a hint of disrespect. Yet now that Duncan ventured far and wide, those priests serving the Divine Spirits had begun to despise her.
For now, she must endure.
It’s not the ti to fall out, only when that man returns can she stand tall.
If Duncan were still around, any re Sea God Priest wouldn’t dare block her way.
anwhile.
In the land of the Hill Dwarves, amidst the southern mountains, a fallen man was aimlessly wandering. His figure was exceptionally burly and his appearance handso. However, his golden hair had turned gray, and although he didn’t seem old, his features rendered a touch of world-weariness, enveloping him in an aura of decadence.
He took a swig from the flask at his waist, gazing toward the distant mountains, uncertain of his destination, rely going wherever the journey took him. Should he run out of money, he would check for any unlucky bandits or robbers nearby.
Hegel.
A Legendary Hero from the Barbarian Race’s Thunder Beast tribe, a weakened version of the world’s Heracles, not as mighty, yet terrifying when he erupted, a genuine second-generation Divine Son.
By the way, he is currently the defiant son of the God of Strength, Kod.
He defied the Oracle.
Hegel chose self-exile, wandering like a Ranger, his footprints gracing various parts of the southern mountains.
In this period, he had changed significantly, losing the heroic spirit of his youth and the unruly temperant, now resembling a world-weary middle-aged man, though he was actually not yet thirty. Barbarians indeed age rather quickly.
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