Chapter 871
Third Person’s POV
Celeste raised her hand and pointed toward the temple
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“Now lift your head and ask the Moon Goddess. Ask the Crown Prince’s spirit whether he’d want you to avenge him by destroying
his honor.”
Sybil froze in shock.
She stared blankly at Celeste, tears streaming down her face once again.
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Reluctance weighed heavily on her heart as she said, “So the truth behind his death is going to stay buried forever? He was supposed to become the next Lycan King.”
“Killing Velda is only the beginning.” Thalia looked at Sybil, her tone finally softening a little.
“The two kingdoms are locked in a political struggle. Right now, there are things we have no choice but to endure. But as long as we still have our fangs and our fighting spirit, the day for revenge will come.
“For now, we must first stabilize the kingdom. We can’t allow the council or the army to descend into chaos. Once the nation is secure, we’ll have both the time and the strength to plan our retaliation.”
Celeste chimed in, “There’s something else you need to understand–you are too idealistic. Do you really think those starving shifters living along the border would rush onto a battlefield without hesitation? Wake up! They can barely scrape together enough food to survive each day. All they want is a peaceful, stable life. If the army isn’t marching on them, why would ordinary people willingly throw away their lives in someone else’s war?”
Sybil fell silent, her eyes lifeless as she stared into the void. It was unclear whether she was mourning the foolishness of her own plan or grieving the Crown Prince.
***
Before dawn the next morning, while the sky was still cloaked in darkness, Velda was shoved into a prison cart forged from poison- coated steel. Even the claws of an ordinary werewolf couldn’t leave the slightest scratch on its surface. Because of their prime ocation, Ironwood Town and Bloodthorn Village had fertile soil and abundant wildlife, and they had long been known for supplying resources to the border army.
A dried–up riverbed divided the villages down the middle. For generations, werewolves had lived peacefully on both sides, enjoying simple, prosperous lives.
Unfortunately, that peaceful existence had been shattered a few months ago.
Now, barely any of the original villagers remained.
On the night Velda led her reconnaissance squad in the bloody massacre, a handful of vigilant adult werewolves managed to flee into the nearby mountains with their families and hide inside caves. Others happened to be escorting supply caravans and were too far away to return in time, narrowly escaping the slaughter.
But when they finally made it home, all that awaited them was a village soaked in blood. Their parents and mates had been slaughtered, dismembered bodies lay scattered across the ground, and even pups too young to shift had been shown no mercy.
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11:31 am
Chapter 871
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Though these survivors had escaped death themselves, the hatred burning inside them could never be extinguished.
Now, their wolf instincts had long since consumed their reason. Reverige against Velda had become the sole purpose left in their
lives.
At this moment, at the border between the two villages, those survivors had already gathered along the roadside. Bone–deep hatred blazed in their eyes. Their fury had consumed the whites of their eyes, leaving behind only cold, blood–red vertical pupils.
The air itself was saturated with the suffocating pheromones of their wrath.
As the prison cart carrying Velda slowly rolled into the village entrance, a deafening roar erupted from the crowd. Savage growls and furious howls crashed against the steel cage from every direction.
Facing thousands of werewolves who wanted nothing more than to tear her limb from limb, Velda’s wolf was completely paralyzed
with terror.
Fear overwhelmed her in an instant, shattering the last remnants of her composure. Under countless hateful stares, she completely lost control of both her bladder and bowels. Her battered body trembled uncontrollably as she collapsed onto the bloodstained floor of the cage.
Hundreds of icy gazes, blazing with murderous hatred, locked onto her.
The air reeked of blood and overflowed with violent pheromones. Velda felt like trapped prey surrounded by predators patiently waiting to rip her apart.
The fear of death squeezed her chest so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Terrified of provoking the mob even further, she desperately suppressed both her aura and scent.
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