Chapter 55: The Woman Who Killed Her Husband to Prove Her Dao

Arguments had broken out in the Imperial Capital. Of course, once those bastards finished their verbal sparring, they would move on to the killing.

Yinan, however, was already killing. He had already killed many.

Under Yinan’s command, those fifty soldiers upgraded to Violet Archers were frantically harvesting lives from the noble coalition. However, these arrows, much like the javelins used by the light shield-bearers, automatically activated an inscription once fired. They were single-use items.

This meant he had to spend more money to manufacture them, and all that money was taken from the commoners.

The coalition forces had no idea where a bastard like Yinan had managed to recruit dozens of master archers. Although there were only a few dozen of them—hardly enough to face an army of tens of thousands—they focused solely on reaping the lives of officers. This caused the coalition’s command structure to collapse into instant chaos.

At night, they would slip out of the shadows to harass the noble coalition’s camp.

The nobles were nearing their breaking point, but Harold could see that Yinan was already at the end of his rope. The quality of food for Yinan’s army was worsening, and many soldiers were going hungry.

A cold sneer curled Harold’s lips. That bastard had caused so much damage to the nobles; once the city fell, Harold planned to auction Yinan and all his women off as slaves to recoup his losses.

With Yinan’s looks, he would likely fetch a high price from noblewomen or certain lords with specialized tastes.

Harold attacked frantically, regardless of the consequences. He had even redirected all the funds originally intended for virus production toward military expenses. Yinan definitely couldn’t afford a war of attrition.

This isolated city was doomed sooner or later, and Harold would earn the favor of Marquis Will, perhaps even becoming his son-in-law.

—

Inside the command tent, Yinan had just received word from Luo Ling. The army would run out of food in a few days, and even their stock of arrows was nearly depleted.

Without money, they couldn’t fire a single shot.

He summoned Ewan’s deputy commander, the officer previously responsible for training the prisoners of war. The deputy commander strode into the tent and knelt on one knee, awaiting Yinan’s orders.

“Go, send some soldiers,” Yinan said, tapping on the table. “I don’t care if they are wealthy merchants, officials, or poor commoners. As long as they live in the Rosen Territory, make them pay their taxes early. Collect half a year’s worth in advance. If they don’t have money, take their grain as payment.”

“I don’t care what excuses they have or how difficult their lives are. I only want results.”

“Anyone who resists is to be executed on the spot!”

A flash of hesitation crossed the deputy commander’s face upon hearing this, but he immediately responded, “Yes, my lord!”

Watching the deputy commander’s retreating figure, Yinan’s expression grew increasingly grim. He had gambled everything on this war.

‘I swear I will slaughter every last one of those bastards. I will bathe them in blood and solidify my status in the North.’

Yinan leaned back against the chair in his tent, his eyes fixed forward, burning with the flames of revenge and a determination to win.

By the next day, Yinan had secured a significant amount of funding and supplies. It was enough to beat the nobles like drowning dogs.

—

In the Imperial Capital, Marquis Melone was left speechless after Nancy’s sharp rebuttal.

The candidate nominated by the Royal Family pushed open the doors of the council hall and slowly approached the crowd. However, after saying only a few words to express his loyalty and firm ideals, the meeting was adjourned.

When he returned home, he found a masked man waiting for him. His wife and daughter were bound, and strong liquor had been poured all over the floor.

“My lord… you’ve returned at just the right time.” The assassin slowly took out a fire starter, handed it to the noble, and then vanished.

The warning was clear: the lives of his entire family were in his hands.

Looking at his bound wife and daughter, horror and rage surged in the noble’s heart. His wife and daughter’s eyes were filled with fear and desperation, tears welling as they struggled against the cloth gags in their mouths, emitting only muffled whimpers.

Seeing this, he decided to withdraw from the power struggle in the next meeting.

The following day, everyone waited for the third candidate to appear. The nobles were growing impatient when they finally saw a woman slowly push open the council hall doors.

In her hand, she carried a dripping, bloody head. It wasn’t hard for the onlookers to realize it was the head of a man.

She wore a pair of glasses, and her clean, fair face made her look very scholarly. However, her eyes betrayed a ruthlessness that made people shiver.

“My apologies, everyone…” She adjusted her glasses and spoke slowly. “My husband told me not to run for this position. He said our family couldn’t afford to offend you lords, and that my candidacy would bring ruin upon our house.”

“I don’t know who bewitched or threatened him, but I was already prepared to die. So, I killed him first. That way, when I die later, we can be reunited as husband and wife in heaven.”

As soon as she spoke, the entire council hall fell into a deathly silence. Everyone was stunned senseless by her frantic and bloody declaration.

By killing her husband to prove her path, this woman had demonstrated her resolve to everyone present.

Empress Theresa sat high upon her throne, her body trembling slightly. She stared intensely at the woman holding the head, her gaze complex.

Atia also frowned slightly, seemingly unable to accept such a cold-blooded person.

After a long moment, Empress Theresa regained her voice. “Duchess Fiona, please begin your statement. Since you have shown your resolve in such a manner, you must have unique insights into governing the Empire.”

Duchess Fiona bowed slightly, her face still wearing that calm, unruffled expression, as if she were holding an ordinary object rather than her husband’s head.

“Starting two years ago, I began proposing that if the Isore Empire wishes to be rich and powerful, the first and only thing we must do is collect a War Tax.”

“Anyone who dares to declare war must hand over 20% of their territory’s existing wealth as a War Tax. Regardless of victory or defeat, this money will be used to replenish the Empire’s treasury, strengthen military power, and fund post-war reconstruction.”

“The noble who is declared upon does not need to pay this fee. However, if they emerge victorious, they must surrender 10% of their spoils.”

“With the Empire’s internal strife being so severe, if I am appointed Prime Minister, I will insist on pushing this proposal until the Imperial Council passes it. Only once this proposal is passed can I continue to carry out my political ambitions.”

Her words didn’t ban internal fighting; instead, they sought to regulate it.

The nobles whispered among themselves, their expressions varied. Some looked worried, while others were calculating the impact of this policy on themselves.

One noble was the first to break the noise, shouting, “Duchess Fiona, your policy seems clever, but it is actually absurd! Internal strife already erodes the Empire’s foundation. Instead of banning it, you want to tax it? Isn’t that just encouraging conflict in another way?”

Duchess Fiona gave the noble a cold look and responded unhurriedly, “My lord, you only see the surface. Internal strife has existed in the Empire for a long time; it is deep-rooted. Do you think it can be banned just because someone says so?”

“Forcibly banning it will only cause resentment and lead to even more intense secret struggles, which are even more harmful to the Empire. My point is to acknowledge the reality of internal strife while controlling it, making it orderly while bringing actual benefits to the Empire.”

Marquis Melone couldn’t hold back any longer. If this woman became Prime Minister and interfered with taxes, it would be equivalent to stripping him of his power. He spoke urgently, “Even so, the regulations for the War Tax and the surrender of spoils would be fraught with difficulties. Nobles will surely do everything in their power to hide their wealth and loot to avoid payment. How do you plan to handle that?”

Duchess Fiona pushed up her glasses, a cold glint flashing in her eyes as she began to methodically debate the group of nobles.