In the palace hall, King Pentheus, feeling weak at heart, instinctively hid behind the divine-blood guards, and shouted loudly.
"Your Majesty, I think you have misunderstood. Bacchus is a proper true god!"
Finally, a divine-blood guard who could no longer bear it anymore, spoke up first in rebuttal.
Imdiately after, several others echoed him.
"That's right, we have heard his divine na in Thrace, in Athens, in Crete..."
"Yes, he is the spirit in wine, the incarnation of joy, and also the most important attendant of the hearth goddess Hestia!"
"Even Olympus, the abode of the gods, has a place for him.
Thebes has no reason to expel such a god who brings peace and joy!"
Upon hearing these blasphemous words, Pentheus's face turned white, then green with anger.
"Shut up! All of you, shut up! Have you all been bewitched by this swindler?"
Then his eyes swept around as he saw the guard commander walking toward him, causing his face to light up with joy as he he shouted loudly.
"Potis, why don't you control your n? Hurry up and catch that bewitching heretic!"
However, the guard commander remained unmoved and even said calmly,
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I must decline, because I think so too."
"You!"
This sudden betrayal made Pentheus tremble with rage.
"Mad! You've all gone mad!"
"I don't know if I'm mad, but
I personally saw those won who escaped from prison appear out of thin air.
Under the blessing of the Wine God, they turned water into milk, made branches flow with honey, and filled their bellies.
And your mother and sisters were the leaders of that group of won."
The guard commander paused, then added earnestly,
"Your Majesty, if you had been there yourself and witnessed the miracle, you would surely have knelt before them."
During the commander's narration, Lorne could even feel a trace of faith power flowing from him toward his inner world.
The spirit in wine, the incarnation of joy, the existence that brings joy to the world...
It seed that his relentless image marketing and persistent written propaganda had achieved great success.
Look, this is the benefit of reputation.
It subdues others without fighting.
Looking at nearly half of the divine-blood guards on the field who had leaned toward him, and the furiously raging Pentheus, Lorne felt extrely pleased.
"Traitors! All traitors! You actually let those heretic lackeys go and even defended them!"
At this mont, Pentheus beca even more furious and he imdiately grabbed the guard commander's epaulet, ordering loudly.
"Summon all infantry and cavalry, prepare weapons and armor, leave the city, blockade Mount Cithaeron, and imdiately arrest all heretics!
Those who resist will be killed without rcy!"
"No need to go to so much trouble..."
Just as Pentheus was angrily issuing orders, Lorne ca before the young king and smiled as he spoke.
"I can take you to see those Dionysus cult believers together and have them abandon resistance under Your Majesty and submit to punishnt."
"Good!"
Seeing that the divine-blood guards beside him were already sowhat beyond his control, the angry and irritated Pentheus agreed at once.
'If I can't deal with you, can't I deal with them?'
The young king sneered in his heart, a trace of anticipation rising in his heart.
As long as he personally captured all these criminals and threw them back into prison, exposing the false god's true face, it would count as a praiseworthy achievent of his own.
At that ti, let's see who would dare to question his succession.
Seeing Pentheus agree without hesitation, Lorne sighed and changed the subject.
"However, if we're going, I suggest you put on this piece of clothing before setting off."
"Won's clothing?"
Seeing the pink little dress handed over by the heretic apostle, Pentheus's face darkened with humiliation.
Lorne nodded, put on a helpless expression, and explained sincerely.
"They have just been stimulated a bit and have drunk so wine, so their ntal state may not be very stable.
If a man approaches, especially one who has not joined the cult, those pitiful won and children will inevitably be frightened."
"Nonsense!"
King Pentheus slapped away the little dress in Lorne's hand, angrily drew the bronze sword at his waist, pressed it against the opponent's lower back, and threatened coldly.
"Hurry up and move!"
"Alright, alright, I'll lead the way for you right now."
Lorne raised his hands in surrender and obediently mounted the horse with Pentheus, taking the lead.
The galloping warhorse rushed out of the palace, heading straight out of Thebes in a cloud of dust.
But during the jolting ride,
Pentheus for so reason began seeing stars before his eyes, as if the world had undergone strange changes.
The sky in his eyes now held two suns. Thebes appeared twice as large.
Every city gate seed twice as high as before.
The person sitting in front of him looked like a bull, with a pair of huge horns on its head.
Wherever it passed, alluring grapes spread everywhere, and a rich wine fragrance surged into his nostrils, bringing a trace of intoxication.
"No tricks!"
Pentheus's face darkened and he pressed the sharp sword tip forward slightly, threatening coldly.
"Even if you run, they won't get away!"
Lorne glanced at the barren mountain outside the city gate and muttered helplessly in his heart.
'You saw it too.
I'm trying hard here to fill the pit, but I can't stop soone from shoveling dirt into it like crazy.'
So...
Lorne swung the long whip, harshly striking the horse's flank, shaking off the divine-blood guards behind them, and led the cousin behind him straight toward Mount Cithaeron.
At that mont, the eyes on his back had lost all warmth.
His lips moved silently.
"Third ti..."
Soon, they arrived at a deep mountain valley surrounded by pine trees.
"The saint has returned!"
"Thank the gods, the saint is safe!"
"May the Wine God bless you.
Thank you for your rcy..."
Hearing the sound, the believers gathered, singing hymns of praise to their god, while offering fresh grapes, fruits, and vegetables to the saint who had blocked disaster for them, to quench his thirst.
"What sound? Where are the people? Where are they?"
Pentheus looked at the "pine trees" before him, angrily raised his sharp sword, and demanded answers.
Under the influence of madness, his eyes had already lost focus, ignoring the fanatically gathered won and elders.
"Don't be hasty..."
Lorne spoke softly, a trace of gentle, hospice-like kindness in his eyes as he extended one hand forward, pressing lightly at the air.
Imdiately, a huge pine tree bent down its crown like a willow branch being pulled.
But in Pentheus's eyes, it beca a wide road, and at the end of the valley the criminals huddled together trembling.
"Found them!"
Pentheus was wildly excited.
He leaped from the horse's back onto that "great road," and the tree crown sprang back upward.
With a violent jolt under his feet and a strange floating sensation in his body, the young king suddenly regained a bit of clarity and realized he was about to be thrown off by the branches.
In panic, he instinctively threw away the sharp sword in his hand, hugged the trunk tightly, and finally steadied himself.
At that mont, a low voice sounded in the valley.
"Look, this is the beast that wants to put you to death. I have brought him."
Not a single leaf trembled.
No creature made a sound.
The Wine God's believers raised their heads. Hearing the apostle's call, they rushed forward at once, as if dispatched by the god himself.
Under surging intoxication, the reveling won crossed streams and dense forest, gathering beneath the huge pine tree, and saw the harmful beast sitting on the treetop.
A lion draped in luxurious clothing, wearing a golden crown.
Blinded by power, driven by violence.
The believers recalled the tornts they had suffered, and the companions who had died under violent arrests.
Their blood surged, and their anger beca uncontrollable.
"Kill him! Kill him!"
People first threw stones, broken branches, and divine staffs, but nothing could reach the treetop where the king clung.
Then, filled with drunken strength, they used hard oak poles to dig at the soil around the pine tree and tear out its roots.
The great tree fell with a crash, and Pentheus fell with it.
Seeing him, the crowd sward forward, eyes burning with hatred.
"Damn it, what are you doing? I am your king!"
The mud-covered Pentheus roared fiercely but felt weak inside, trying to awaken fear in these lowly people.
But in the believers' eyes, it was only a wounded lion giving a powerless roar.
Outside the circle, Pentheus's mother Agave, honored as a priestess, waved her divine staff and fanatically gave the order.
"Quick, kill this evil beast! Don't let him escape!"
For a ti, peasant won with stones, elders with wooden staffs, and youths scooping up dirt all joined in punishing the fierce wild lion.
So nobles with divine blood grabbed the lion's shoulders and violently tore off his limbs.
Soon, the frenzied won and elders, in a storm of blows and tearing hands, began their revenge, each ripping away a piece of flesh.
In the end, on the blood-soaked dirt heap, only a head remained, eyes wide with endless terror, dying with unresolved grievance.
At that mont, dense horse hooves thundered outside the forest, and the reflection of armor cast a chilling light.
Thebes's divine-blood guards had arrived.
(End of this chapter.)
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