Under the dim light, a candlestick was placed on a low wooden table, the fla flickering slightly, dispelling the shadows of this secret chamber.
The center of the long table was piled with maps, weapons, and several handwritten papers.
In the corner, a few wooden boxes were stacked, filled with armor and crossbow arrows.
Beside the wooden table, a scrawny old man dressed in black monk robes hung his head low, while an artisan with rolled-up sleeves revealing hairy arms nervously rubbed his hands.
A few labor representatives stood in one corner of the chamber, whispering among themselves, standing by the winding staircase; the young n serving as guards were both tense and excited.
Sitting in front of the wooden table was Mitney, dressed in sturdy leather armor, with a longsword hanging by his waist.
His previously soft and gentle face appeared particularly stern under the firelight, his gaze sharp and unlike that of a gentle diplomatic envoy.
"You all know the news. According to the plan, tomorrow is the day of action. Rapids City, oh no, the future of the Thousand River Valley will be in our hands."
Those present exchanged glances, their eyes filled with both fear and excitent.
Everyone present had once taken a blood oath together, each leaving a blood-written docunt.
For the rchants, artisans, and citizens of Rapids City, despite creating imnse wealth, much of it was swallowed up by the church, which did nothing to earn it.
Even though they had redeed their own freedom during the Hundred Years' War, they were still controlled by the church.
A free city with control over the appointnt of bishops is completely different from one that doesn't.
The forr is completely autonomous, while the latter rely becos a vassal from a dependent, with its sovereignty still incomplete.
In the history of Horn's previous world, there was originally no such distinction, but due to the presence of extraordinary powers in this world, seizing a city through ard struggle was difficult, resulting in such a division.
"Lord Mitney, we are ready, and the weapons have been distributed in advance," the artisan said in a gravelly voice.
"Very good."
"My lord, I have inford all the laborers."
"Not bad."
"My lord," a laborer raised his hand and asked, "why hasn't Lady Catherine arrived yet?"
Mitney chuckled: "Lady Catherine is attending to an important matter..."
The tone gradually darkened, Mitney's gaze swept over everyone present, and he calmly said, "That is to catch a traitor, and the list has narrowed down to just a few people."
"Who are they?" Artisan Petor's eyes widened, "Dare to break the blood oath, his soul must descend into the Fire Prison."
"We have identified the traitor on our list; he is sitting here with us."
Following half a second of silence, the basent erupted with chaotic argunts almost lifting the room off its foundations.
"Don't rush, don't rush, I've gathered you all here to address this matter. Finding the traitor is simple.
Two days ago, I inadvertently leaked different pieces of information to each of you—"
As he said this, Mitney cast an amused glance over each anxious face.
"But I made small distinctions for each, like differences in ti and place, so as to..."
"Die!"
Before he could finish, the drowsy old monk suddenly leapt up, shouting, and lunged at Qianqian in the corner.
He appeared to be trying to grab Qianqian as a hostage.
Before his fingertips could touch the hem of Qianqian's skirt, the artisan beside him grabbed his ankle and swung him onto the table.
"Cough, cough, cough, cough—" The old monk curled up on the table, coughing violently.
The young laborers hadn't yet reacted: "You, you broke the blood oath, did you know? Are you still a Thousand River Valley person?"
"What Thousand River Valley person!" Blood trickled from the old monk's mouth, and he roared, "I graduated first from the Divinity School. If not for this unclean bloodline, I would have been a bishop long ago. Who's a Thousand River Valley person? Curse whoever's a Thousand River Valley person! Curse whoever's a Thousand River Valley person!"
Mitney licked his dry lips, and two guards imdiately stepped forward to restrain the old monk's arms.
"So what if you've caught ?" Glancing around, the old monk laughed maniacally, "The bishop and the city council chairman already know about your plot. At first light tomorrow, it'll be the day of your demise."
"My friend." Qianqian stepped on his face, "I must tell you, after midnight, it's already tomorrow."
"What do you an?"
"Why do you think, knowing we had a traitor all along, we would still proceed with the original plan?"
"Dawn is also morning," Mitney added.
Almost as soon as the words were spoken, they heard a series of footsteps coming from above.
In an instant, the old monk's face turned pale.
Within the guard post in Rapids City, the city guards in uniform were pierced through the chest by ard swords during the change of shift.
After the whistle mixed with the usual bird songs, the ground gradually shook, and at the end of the road, teams of cavalry surged out, entering through the checkpoint of the post one after another.
In the arsenal of Rapids City, the Night Guards watching over were shot down one by one with crossbow arrows, the sound of their bodies falling echoed in the night sky.
In the rows of stone houses, lamps lit up one after another, pairs of eyes lifted the curtains to peek outside, quickly blowing out their candles upon seeing ard figures in black pass by.
In the alleys, on the streets, shadows surged as the rebels, like beasts unleashed from their cage, wielding weapons, shouting slogans, charged towards City Hall.
anwhile, the Night Guards also picked up pikes, starting to confront and kill these militia.
These workers had their own small groups, those at the docks ford dock gangs, those in dyeing had dyeing gangs, and they would train at the igedi Comrce Association in their spare ti.
Artisans were already organized by guilds, not requiring these lively grassroots organizations to train them.
Many Night Guards and Armored Soldiers did not expect Catherine to launch in advance, scattered in taverns and hos, besieged by the rebels with fire.
In the chaotic night of slaughter, the surviving Night Guards on City Hall Square were pushed back step by step by the sudden rebels, finally having to retreat into the sturdy City Hall.
"Get the cabinet, block the door with that cabinet, you dumb pig who can't understand human words!"
City Councilor Fredian stood in the entrance hall of City Hall, holding a swift rapier, screaming orders for the guards to block the main door.
But the door firmly blocked by heavy objects did not have the effect he expected.
A burnt sll suddenly filled the air, and before they could figure it out, intense light, sound, and heat burst out from the cracks in the door.
"Ah——"
"My hand, my hand is burnt."
Peeling skin and flesh fell from the surface of their bodies, the guards covered their eyes, raising their burnt and wrinkled arms, wailing and crying in pain.
"Damn, it's the Wizard's Fireball Technique, I said that little sign was the mark of a Secret Faction's lackey!"
Fredian's screams could not stop the fate of the door being breached, after the Fireball Technique, the guards were already scared out of their wits.
Besides, they were all locals, not temple knights of the church, risking their lives for just dozens of dinars a month.
"I surrender, I surrender."
"Sir, that's Fredian."
"Sir, look quickly, he's over there, don't let him escape."
They raised their hands, dropped their weapons, choosing to surrender, many even directly pointed the way for the rebels.
When Catherine, clad in chain mail over leather armor, stepped out from behind the door, Fredian with broken legs was crawling on the ground.
With his face sared with dirt, Fredian laboriously turned his head to look into Catherine's cold eyes.
"Do you think you've won?" Fredian's hatred was almost turning into substantive dark mist, "Lower Reif County and North Mande County still have Shangruifo County and Mande County between them, in front of you is Hotam County, behind is Langsande County. The church and the nobles won't let you usurp the position of city lord, you're courting death."
"Why do I need you to tell that?" Catherine squatted down, looking down at Fredian like at a wet dog.
More and more people surged in from the doorway, looking at this damned councilor who helped the Monastery enact laws to oppress citizens.
"Fredian, your reign is over." Standing up, Catherine coldly said, "From now on, Rapids City will be controlled by its true masters."
"Ridiculous, just wait, once the church has free hands, all you Thousand River Valley People will die!"
"Lady Catherine." The blacksmith Petor ran limping from afar, carrying the Crow Pecking Warhamr, his body covered in blood, yet not feeling any pain or fear.
"Of the seventeen districts of Rapids City, we've taken over fifteen, only a few hundred Armored Soldiers are stubbornly resisting in fortresses."
After the blacksmith, more and more feathered ssengers ran in from all directions.
"Sir, Lord Carter has captured the arsenal."
"Lady Catherine, the granary and Holy Seat Bank have been taken, we've controlled those bankers and accountants."
"Sir, the Monastery has been breached, only the temple knights in the church are stubbornly resisting."
"Catherine, you'll regret this, you all will." Lying on his back, Holt, knowing there was no way out, gritted his teeth and roared.
"It's you who should regret." She sneered twice, stepping on Fredian's back, Catherine placed her longsword on his neck and slashed forcefully.
Blood spurted out, staining Catherine's cheeks red.
"Your era is over!"
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