“Kill them all.
Wipe them out?”
The last four words fell from the Little Queen’s innocent face.
The voice was not loud, light as air, yet it was like an invisible ice hammer, smashing hard into everyone’s hearts.
A chill from the marrow made everyone shudder.
“Little Lina, are you insane?!”
Astreia sucked in a cold breath, gripping the Little Queen’s shoulders in disbelief, her voice rising unconsciously from shock.
The pitiful obedience that had once clung to her sister had vanished without a trace, replaced by a resolute determination that felt utterly unfamiliar.
“Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Kill all the subjects? Then who will govern the country? Who will maintain even the most basic order? Doing this will only plunge the Royal Capital and all the innocent people into chaos and disaster worse than now!”
“Those who don’t obey have no reason to exist.”
Yekaterina gently shook her head, her expression unmoved.
Yet her words sent even the battle-hardened General Sera’s heart pounding with dread.
“Like weeds in a garden. Only when they’re all uprooted can beautiful flowers be planted anew.”
She lowered her small head, taking Astreia’s hand again, and explained slowly.
“Sister, those families have roots tangled deep, rotten to the core. All these years you were gone from the Royal Capital, you couldn’t have known what the Veid Family and their vassals did for profit.”
“Embezzling military rations, monopolizing trade, even secretly selling arms and making dirty slave deals with pirates…”
“A few days ago, they even placed the head of the George Family, General Claudia, under house arrest, trying to seize control of the entire army!”
As she spoke, Yekaterina’s eyes reddened, her voice trembling with the anger and helplessness of betrayal.
“A kingdom like this, subjects like these—if we don’t cut off the rot, how can we be reborn?”
“I know, I know it’s cruel… But it’s the fastest and only effective method.”
The Little Queen lifted her tear-streaked face to Astreia.
“As long as the Veid Family and their greedy vassals are all dead, no one will dare try to control me again. No one will dare to exclude you anymore, Sister.”
“Then, when you call the kingdom to your side with the glory of a triumphant hero, all will willingly kneel at your feet.”
“This honor should have been yours from the start!”
“Otherwise… even if you sit on that throne, you’ll be like me—powerless, a puppet to be manipulated at will!”
Her words rang with desperate sincerity.
It was like listening to a girl cornered by fate, forced to seek the most extreme means to survive, her words woven through with the righteousness of wanting the best for her sister.
Astreia found herself speechless.
She could feel the determination in her sister’s words—and behind it, the deep, heartbreaking fear and helplessness.
Over these years, what had her sister endured alone in the devouring whirlpool of the Royal Capital, to become like this?
Beside her, General Sera’s brow was deeply furrowed, her single eye flickering with conflict.
As a soldier, she loathed intrigue.
But as a member of the George Family, she knew better than anyone what a bloodbath in the court would mean.
It would be a political earthquake shaking the entire Kingdom, its devastation far more terrifying than war.
Even if the family head was under house arrest, this must not be allowed to happen!
Inside the tent, every gaze unconsciously turned to Wendy.
One was a Queen’s sister who wished to purge the court with an iron hand and rebuild order.
The other was a Princess who abhorred needless slaughter and wished to protect the innocent.
The two sisters stood for completely different paths.
And Wendy—the man who had created miracles time and again—his stance would tip the scales.
Even Laxana, who had been watching the drama, withdrew her playful smile. Her violet eyes moved between the Queen, the Princess, and Wendy, as if weighing something.
But Wendy did not speak.
His face was unreadable, his hand simply stroking his chin in silence.
Because before the Little Queen arrived, he had already decided on tonight’s action.
His plan was even crazier and more direct than the Little Queen’s suggestion.
He intended, under cover of darkness, to find a hidden place and let Astreia enter her witch form.
Then, have Laxana carry the awakened Princess straight into the Royal Capital, descending upon the Veid Family manor.
No need for tricks.
No need for negotiation.
Just pure, overwhelming force to uproot every enemy in body and soul.
The aftermath, of course, would leave a power vacuum in the Valoran Kingdom and throw everything into short-term chaos.
But what did that matter to a transmigrator who just wanted a comfortable life?
Besides, with knowledge from Earth, he had more than enough ways to keep the chaos minimal.
As long as he stabilized the situation and issued a Recruitment Decree, he could gradually reshape the Valoran Kingdom into a fortress against the coming Bloodline Uprising and Void Invasion.
But now…
Wendy looked at the Little Queen before him, her tears falling like shattered blossoms, her expression one of pitiful grievance.
He narrowed his eyes.
Her words were too perfect.
So perfect, they sounded like a speech rehearsed countless times.
A young monarch, long oppressed and powerless, upon meeting her rescuers, should be thinking of self-preservation, of seeking help, of voicing her suffering.
Not laying out a cold, logical, and thoroughly ruthless plan for a purge.
This way of thinking was more like that of a battle-hardened, iron-willed dictator.
Unless… she wasn’t the innocent “little white rabbit” she seemed.
Wendy’s gaze lingered on her delicate features.
No, unlikely.
The dependency in her eyes, the tremble of her body, were too genuine.
She was truly afraid, and she truly depended on Astreia.
Most telling of all, she was almost the same age as himself.
How much cunning could an eighteen or nineteen-year-old girl possess?
Which left only one possibility.
Someone had taught her from behind the scenes.
And logically, that was even more likely.
No matter how skillful a puppet, it remained a puppet.
The real danger was always the one holding the strings.
So—who was the puppeteer behind the Little Queen?
In other words, if this plan was truly enacted, if blood flowed through the Royal Capital…
When the battle ended, which power would have a hidden card—enough to become the ultimate winner, the fisherman who benefits from the clash?