Blood, death, unavoidable cruelty.
“Does anyone else have something to say?” she asked, her voice terrifyingly calm.
Complete silence.
“Very well.”
Sara nodded.
“Then from now on, I am the new ruler of the Olay Empire. Anyone with objections may leave—but once you step out of the Ten Holy Temples, you will no longer be Imperial nobles. Your lands and titles will be taken back by the royal family.”
No one moved.
No joke; leaving now would be equivalent to giving up everything, and they might be disposed of directly by the Blood Race outside or by Yize.
Yize turned around at this moment, his back to Tina, who was still nailed to the cross.
“Little elf, you’ve also seen the current situation.”
His tone was,
“I’ll give you two paths. The first: die. The second: submit to Sara, and use your power and the Ten Holy Temples to assist her in reorganizing the Empire.”
Tina raised her head with difficulty.
Her limbs were still in excruciating pain, and her consciousness was blurred under the dual effects of the drugs and injuries.
But the survival instinct overpowered everything.
“I…”
Her voice was hoarse.
“I choose the second path. I am willing… to wholeheartedly assist Lady Sara.”
“Words alone won’t do.” Ize smiled.
He took out a crystal bottle from his Storage Ring.
The liquid inside was deep purple, flowing slowly with an eerie fluorescence.
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on that bottle of potion.
“Senior Sister Sara,”
Ize handed the bottle over.
“Please feed this potion to her yourself.”
Sara took the bottle. It was ice-cold to the touch.
She looked at the liquid inside, then at Ize, her gaze complicated.
“Junior Ize, what kind of potion is this?”
“This one,”
Ize said casually.
“Is called ‘Disobedience Leads to Explosion.’ Its effect is the same as the name—the drinker must obey the person who gave them the potion without question, and wholeheartedly consider that person’s interests.”
“If even a single bad thought arises, like betrayal or harm, then…”
He made a “boom” gesture.
“They self-destruct.”
Ize added.
“They explode from the inside. It’s a pretty ugly death.”
A wave of sharp intakes of breath echoed through the Tribunal Hall.
The nobles turned pale, instinctively stepping back a few paces, as if the potion bottle were a plague source.
Even the Blood Pillars revealed wary expressions.
They had witnessed the power of Ize’s potions before—hadn’t No.2 and No.5 self-destructed precisely because they took his potions?
Riya frowned at the bottle, then at Ize.
“This potion sounds similar to the ‘Truth Potion’ you used before.”
“Idiot,”
Ize reached out and tousled her hair, the gesture natural and affectionate.
“The ‘Truth Potion’ has an active effect—it requires questioning to get the truth, and it has a time limit. But this—”
He pointed at the bottle in Sara’s hand.
“—has a passive effect. It’s permanent. As long as she holds even a hint of malice toward you, Senior Sister Sara, it triggers immediately. How can that be the same?”
Riya still looked puzzled.
“This kind of potion… don’t tell me you bought it from some Traveling Merchant again.”
She stared at Ize, her scarlet eyes full of suspicion.
What bothered her most was how absurdly powerful the potion’s effect was.
Permanent absolute loyalty control—this touched on forbidden territory in magic and the Soul Domain.
Even among the Elves, Riya doubted such a thing could be made.
Sara also looked at Ize, the same doubt flickering in her eyes.
Back in Betty Territory, Luke had pulled out a bunch of potions with ridiculous effects.
Now Ize had produced the “Truth Potion” and this “Disobedience Leads to Explosion.”
Did these astonishing Magic Potions really all come from some mysterious Traveling Merchant?
Or…
A startling guess rose in Sara’s mind: Could these potions be Ize’s own creations?
If that were true, Ize’s terrifying level would rise another notch—not only did he possess invincible combat power, but he also mastered alchemy skills capable of overturning the rules of the world.
“Lord Ize,”
Bart licked his lips, his eyes full of interest.
“Such a fine thing—why not tell me where you bought it? I’d like to stock up on a few myself.”
Ize remained expressionless.
“That Traveling Merchant is always mysterious. Meeting him comes down to fate. This potion indeed came from him.”
He paused, then added.
“I obtained it by chance. This is the last bottle.”
His words were watertight, but Riya clearly didn’t believe him.
She knew Ize too well—whenever he wanted to hide something, his eyes became especially sincere.
But she didn’t press further.
Everyone had their own secrets.
If Ize didn’t want to say, she wouldn’t force him.
What mattered was that he was on her side. That was enough.
Sara gave Ize a long look but didn’t expose him either.
She turned and walked toward the cross, her steps firm.
Tina watched Sara approach, fear and struggle flashing in her eyes, before finally surrendering to a deathly stillness.
Sara pulled out the stopper.
A strange, sweet fragrance spread out. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it made the heart pound inexplicably.
“Open your mouth,” she said.
Tina obediently opened her mouth.
Sara tilted the bottle, and the deep purple liquid slowly flowed into her mouth.
The moment the potion entered her throat, Tina’s body trembled violently.
She could feel an icy energy slide down her esophagus into her stomach, then rapidly spread through her limbs and bones, finally converging at her heart, forming a complex Magical Restriction.
That restriction was linked to her Life Essence—sensitive and lethal.
Now, the instant she harbored any malice toward Sara, even a fleeting thought of resentment, the restriction would trigger an explosion in her heart and Magic Core.
Absolute control.
Tina’s face was pale, but her eyes became unusually docile.
She looked at Sara, her voice soft.
“Your Highness, from now on, Tina will wholeheartedly assist you.”
“All of the Ten Holy Temples’ resources, intelligence networks, and hidden forces will be at your disposal.”
Sara could sense that a strange connection had been established between herself and Tina.
She could vaguely perceive Tina’s emotional state—now only submission and reverence, without a trace of falsehood.
“Very good.”
Sara nodded.
“I’ll have someone treat your wounds later. After you recover, the first task will be to reorganize the Ten Holy Temples and purge all informants possibly loyal to my father.”
“As you command,” Tina replied respectfully.
Ize watched the scene and nodded in satisfaction.
The nobles’ support was secured. The Yarsed Family’s military backing was secured.
Now even the Ten Holy Temples, the center of religion and intelligence, was under control.
The foundation for Sara’s ascension was solid enough.
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The Second-Level Compound Defense Magic Array covering the entire Ten Holy Temples began to deactivate.
Sunlight once again spilled into the hall.
And in that instant when the last barrier vanished, a figure walked in through the main entrance.
The newcomer wore imperial ceremonial robes, was tall and imposing, with a dignified face.
He was the current Emperor of the Olay Empire—Dimitorius Ulysses.
He had clearly come in a hurry, followed only by a few personal guards.
When he stepped into the Ten Holy Temples and saw the scene inside, his steps stopped abruptly.
The ground was littered with dried corpses.
Blood Race members knelt in submission.
Tina was nailed to the cross.
And—all the nobles turned to look at him in unison, their expressions complex.
Dimitorius’s brow furrowed deeply.
He had anticipated that the Trial might go wrong, but he hadn’t expected a scene like this.
“What’s going on here?” His voice was low, carrying an unshakable authority.
No one answered.
The nobles exchanged glances, then turned their gazes toward Sara.
Sara stepped forward, standing in the center of the hall. She raised her head and looked straight into her father’s eyes.
Dimitorius felt a bad premonition rising in his heart.
“Sara,” he said in a deep voice. “Explain.”
Sara didn’t answer immediately.
She looked around at the nobles, then took a deep breath.
Her voice was clear and resolute, reaching every corner of the Ten Holy Temples.
“Please abdicate the throne, Your Majesty.”
A brief silence.
Then—
“Please abdicate the throne, Your Majesty!”
“Please abdicate the throne, Your Majesty!!”
“Please abdicate the throne, Your Majesty!!!”
The nobles shouted in unison, voices rising wave after wave.
Some sincerely supported Sara, some were forced by circumstances, some simply went along with the crowd—but at this moment, everyone’s voices merged into an irresistible torrent.
Dimitorius stood in place, all color drained from his face.
He looked at his daughter in disbelief, at the nobles who had defected, at this utterly absurd scene.
Decades of rule, centuries of imperial authority, crumbled in an instant.
And the instigator was none other than his most trusted and valued eldest daughter.
Dimitorius opened his mouth as if to speak, but found no words coming out.
Dimitorius: “???”