When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

"Dang!"

A pebble the size of a thumb hit his iron helmet with a crisp hum, and Gibson immediately felt his head buzzing.

He adjusted his helmet, angrily looking in that direction, only to see a few children around eleven or twelve sprawled on the roof, baring their teeth at him.

"Who are you...?" Standing next to the sentry post at the bridgehead, Gibson was just about to scold them when one of the children swung his arm and threw something at him.

He couldn't have imagined that, even though he was watching them, they still dared to throw stones at him.

Before he could recover from his surprise, a stone the size of an egg rapidly came into view.

A sharp pain shot through his nose, and Gibson jerked backward, dropping the hook spear in his hand, clutching his nose, and tears came out from the stinging pain in his nasal cavity.

"Captain Gibson? Are you okay?"

"Whose kid is this?!"

Holding his nose down, Gibson's tears and snot flowed, and he pointed towards the direction of those kids: "Catch them for me."

Beside him, seven or eight Night Guards immediately picked up their hook spears and ran towards the building, while the youths on the roof shouted "Pied Piper! Down to the Fire Prison!" and scattered like birds and beasts in all directions.

The Night Guards dispersed, chasing after different youths, but they hadn't run far before they found themselves unable to move.

The crowd on the street, whether they were laborers, artisans, or citizens, acted like walls of people, using their shoulders and bodies to obstruct the Night Guards.

Those Guards were jostling back and forth in the crowd, unable to advance an inch, and some were even tripped by beggars and vagrants from the roadside.

They ended up with bruised faces, yet could only watch helplessly as those stone-throwing youths climbed up and down the roofs, eventually disappearing into the sunset.

The Guards turned around and cursed: "What are you trying to do?"

"Kids are just being playful, they don't know better."

"Oh, come on, you're really going to argue with kids, right?"

Passersby on the street jumped in to defend, with some even blatantly standing in front of the Guards.

Gibson, using a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding from his nose, came to the front of the crowd: "What exactly do you all want to do?"

"We're doing nothing." A laborer standing in front of Gibson spread his hands, "I'm just walking normally, why are you blocking me, even bumping me with your chest?"

"You damn goat!" Gibson, his face flushed, directly grabbed the laborer's collar, "Do you want to die?"

"Oh, oh, you mustn't forget your hometown and relatives." An old beggar sunning himself by the roadside said sarcastically, "Some people, from childhood to adulthood, drink the water of Thousand River Valley, eat the rice grown by our people, yet they want to attack us."

As the old man spoke, some citizens and laborers gathered around, they didn't take direct action, just watched Gibson with ambiguous expressions.

Under the stern and cold gazes, Gibson swallowed hard, subconsciously letting go.

But after realizing, he immediately became embarrassed and angry, picking up his hook spear and aiming it at the crowd: "Is this a rebellion? What? Are you short hairs?"

As soon as he said this, it was like a stone causing a thousand ripples, even passersby stopped in their tracks.

"I wish I could be a short hair!"

"Short hairs are heroes; they say they'll avenge our children in Thousand River Valley!"

"If it weren't for the Saint's Grandson, I wouldn't even know where my nephew went, so what if they're short hairs? Does having the face of a Night Guard mean anything?"

"Aren't short hairs good people? Our Juanuo was such a good person but got burned by that pimping bastard, didn't he?"

"See, they used to kill our kids secretly for their drinking, now it's right out in the open."

Seeing the crowd growing thicker around him, countless fingers pointed viciously at Gibson, while the other Guards behind him huddled back-to-back, even signaling him to let it go.

Gibson was thoroughly confused. He remembered that before, the kids wouldn't even dare to get close, let alone throw stones at him.

Whenever he chased after others, they would obediently make way for him, not daring to say a word even if bumped into by him.

What on earth happened?

"Go, go, the Armored Soldiers are coming."

On the roof, the youth who had just thrown stones at Gibson came back, shouting to the crowd below before disappearing once again among the rooftops.

Upon hearing this news, the crowd scattered chaotically, they were fearful after all, only daring to bully these non-extraordinary Night Guards.

The Night Guards didn't dare to stop them, nor could they, only being pushed and shoved amidst the fleeing crowd.

Even during the retreat, people would bump into the Night Guards on purpose, and someone even feigned stretching, landing a vicious elbow on Gibson's nose.

Crouching in pain with his nose covered, Gibson realized the crowd had completely dissipated.

The Guards were all disheveled, their clothes messed up, hair and bodies dirtied with rotten vegetables and smelly eggs, standing there in utter defeat with no trace of their former majesty.

Standing up, Gibson wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief, not knowing if the tears were from the pain or fear.

"Rumble, rumble—"

Wagon wheels rolled over the ground and wooden boards as several carriages approached from the bridge.

The wooden bridge groaned with decay, and Gibson quickly stepped aside.

On the bridge, a unit of Armored Soldiers and three Extraordinary Knights escorted two freight carriages filled with about a dozen prisoners, to be taken to a quarry outside the city for hard labor.

Their hands were bound with ropes, their faces dirty, bruises at the corners of their mouths, swaying with the movement of the carriages.

They were the citizens and laborers, even low-ranking priests, who had rushed to block the road at Feiliu Castle Church for answers upon hearing the news the day before.

These people had been judged as "short hairs" by the Church and the Empire.

Yet unlike in the past, the roadside crowd showered cheers at the prisoners on the carriage, even throwing them bread, cheese, and cabbages to eat along the way.

The prisoners, like victorious heroes, raised their bound hands together and waved continually to the people on the roadside, as if they were heroes setting out for battle.

Faced with this scene, the Knight's face was full of anger but he couldn't act, knowing that ordering the Armored Soldiers to disperse the crowd would be futile.

These Armored Soldiers were also from Thousand River Valley, and ordering them to disperse the crowd would only provide the opportunity for the crowd to overrun them and release the prisoners.

Standing behind the cheering crowd, Mizam wore a hood silently.

In just over ten days, had things fermented to this extent?

After the Blue Blood incident broke out, although he quickly blocked the news, he couldn't completely shut down the river routes, so many vagrants and merchants managed to spread the news.

The news, which was initially met with skepticism and regarded as rumor by many, had changed after news came five days ago that another Blue Blood Orphanage was discovered in Black Wood Village, North Mande County, with over a hundred Blue Blood orphans rescued.

Compared to the meek populace of the Thousand River Valley Plains Region, the mountain folks with their inherently violent Kush nature directly burned the local church.

The priests from that Blue Blood Orphanage were placed on millstones by the mountain folks and ground to pulp publicly, with some even catching it with cups to drink.

Then the inherently restless Grand Duchess Moliat took the opportunity to seize control of Black Wood Village from the church and issued a statement questioning:

"What has happened to this Church? It's always the believers who suffer losses. I can't help but reflect that."

On the heels of the Grand Duchess's incitement and the agitation from Juanuo's followers, scenes like the one that had just occurred could now be seen all over Thousand River Valley.

Just yesterday in Rapids City, a citizen attacked a Night Guard with a short stick after rumors about his family having Blue Blood Grape Wine reached his community.

These persistent uprisings in the Plains Region have not spread to the more isolated rural areas yet, and urban areas, while gradually becoming more informed, restrict themselves to verbal humiliation, not daring more extreme acts.

In the five counties of the mountain region, the situation was different; bishops didn't dare to leave cathedral gates, and even if they had to go out, it required at least two squads of soldiers as escort, otherwise, they risked being attacked at any turn.

One old bishop was reportedly ambushed and stabbed to death by local Thousand River Valley priests who tipped off the locals, after rumors had spread that he kept Blue Blood Grape Wine at his residence.

It was an unlucky coincidence that all three events erupted in quick succession.

Mizam pondered how quickly the situation had escalated to this point.

Since the eruption of the Blue Blood Incident, despite his swift action to curb the spread of information, he couldn't fully blockade the riverways, allowing many vagrants and merchants to spread the word.

The information, which was initially considered doubtful and rumor-like, became substantially verified five days ago with the rescue of over a hundred Blue Blood orphans from North Mande's church, sparking widespread upheaval.

Unfortunately, coinciding with three explosive events, Mizam thought.