A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

In the northern lands, at the Tower of Frost.

"So..."

A man raised his hand beside the conference table: "Our Empress's fate is currently unknown?"

"She is undoubtedly doomed," someone sneered, "Her power will inevitably be reclaimed by the Source Flame."

"And then... was Lord Evora attacked by Her Majesty before she fled?"

"Yes."

"Is she also doomed?"

"That remains uncertain..." someone stroked their chin, "If Princess Evora can hold out until Her Majesty's power is reclaimed by the Source Flame, she might still be saved."

Among the seats, a young sorcerer scoffed: "Is there any difference between the Source Flame to the Empress and the Empress to the Elder Princess? Both are certain death upon contact. I don't see anything worth discussing here."

"But no one has seen them both definitively dead. Do you want to be judged by the returning divine beings in a few years?"

The previously calm meeting room gradually erupted into heated arguments. The elderly man seated at the head of the table remained silent, his eyes closed in contemplation.

Polonia, Seraphina's former mentor and a high-ranking revolutionary known by the codename "Professor," clenched her fists. After a long hesitation, she suddenly stood up and shouted:

"Everyone, please listen to me!"

"..."

The arguments gradually subsided, and all eyes turned to the standing woman.

Polonia's heart pounded as she struggled to steady her voice and began:

"This is the greatest upheaval since the Empire's founding."

"With the demise and silence of two divine species, their legacies are severed... which means the Empire will no longer see the emergence of sixth-stage divine beings."

"This is our opportunity, the best opportunity. The northern lands are the most resource-deprived. If we do not seize the initiative, we will be hindered at every turn in the future... The re…rebellion will rise more swiftly, and if we do not make a decisive move now, the consequences will be unimaginable."

As Polonia slowly articulated her thoughts, her voice grew increasingly resolute:

"The era of the divine species has passed. We must seize power for ourselves. In this wave of transformation, to not advance is to perish."

To not advance is to perish.

Hearing this, the Grand Duke of Gray Tower opened his eyes, revealing a satisfied smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen."

He smiled at all the high-ranking members of the Tower of Frost: "What do you think of Professor Polonia's opinion?"

At that moment, all the windows in the conference room suddenly opened, and the biting cold wind howled into the room. The scholars present were, of course, unaffected by the severe cold, but in each other's eyes, they saw the vast snow and the approaching storm.

"I second the motion."

After a long while, someone raised their hand.

"I second the motion." "I second the motion." "I second the motion."

Of the twenty seats, sixteen raised their hands in agreement, two opposed, and two abstained.

When the divine beings, once high above, suddenly fell from their thrones, and the power that could annihilate them was no longer as it once was...

Ambition swelled, and desires became insatiable.

"Then, I declare..."

The Duke of Gray Tower removed his glasses, and his aged, cloudy eyes suddenly gleamed with the sharpness of a hawk.

"The proposal regarding the independence of the northern lands, in alliance with the Duke of Ironblade, is officially passed."

"The next steps... leave them to me."

He struck his scepter heavily, the pride and fervor in his aged voice overpowering the wind and snow.

On the 11th of March, 1108 of the Imperial Calendar, thirty-six days after the [Day of Calamity].

The Duke of Gray Tower and the Duke of Ironblade issued a joint statement.

The northern lands declared independence from the Empire, officially becoming autonomous.

*

In the western lands, at Duke of Wyvern's mansion in the Desolate Dragon Valley.

"So, you mean to say that our great creator, Lord Flamelle... has mysteriously vanished."

On the expansive balcony, Duke of Wyvern, lounging and drinking, absentmindedly stroked the young dragon lying beside him: "Whether he is alive or dead is unknown?"

"If that Hydral still existed, he would never have allowed Lord Ansel to replace him in the battle against the Empress."

Behind him, a "dragonman" with fleshy wings at his waist, limbs like those of a scaled beast, and covered in large black scales, bowed his head and responded: "Although we have found no trace of Lord Flamelle, it seems… he has completely perished for some reason."

"So, it's still just speculation?"

Duke of Wyvern looked up, murmuring: "Whether he or she… or her is dead or alive, there is no definite news…huh. Why the young Hydral did not inherit Lord Flamelle's power is also a mystery."

The man shook his head and said: "He is a... dangerous character. Let's keep watching."

"But according to intelligence, Duke of Bloodust is already stirring."

"Only Blatcher? That shouldn't be."

Duke of Wyvern stood up, leaning against the balcony railing:

"Blatcher, Lorraine, Namo..."

He softly recited the names of the other three Grand Dukes of the western lands, his expression growing colder:

"This situation suits their tastes. Chaos, disorder, no supreme suppressor... Hmph."

The man swirled the wine in his glass, his brown-yellow dragon-like vertical pupils filled with disdain and contempt.

"They will soon start fighting like hyenas."

"... Grand Duke, this is your opportunity," the black-scaled dragonman earnestly advised, "Without the Empress's restraint, if you could unify the western lands—"n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"No."

Duke of Wyvern casually tossed his wine glass aside: "I will wait a bit longer. For now... let them stir up the trouble."

"There is still a divine species, sitting in the bountiful southern lands, watching the world."

He murmured softly: "I must ensure he has no hidden cards left. If, after all the fighting and scrambling, we gain everything, only to have a supreme divine being emerge above us, I might not..."

Roar—!!!

The young dragon on the balcony suddenly roared, spreading its wings and flying into the valley. Simultaneously, dozens of giant dragons flapped their wings and soared into the sky, their roars shattering the clouds.

"...be able to remain a docile dog in a corner."

On the 17th of February, 1108 of the Imperial Calendar, twelve days after the [Day of Calamity].

Duke of Bloodust waged an undeclared war against Duke of Firmament. Duke of Azuregold supplied mercenaries and adventurers to both sides, causing friction with Duke of Wyvern, who provided dragon rentals.

The most chaotic western lands had completely become a true battleground.

*

In the Eastport, City of Azurehaven, the Lost Sea Coast.

"Truly! I really saw a ball of fire...falling from the sky! I wouldn't dare deceive you, my lord!"

The fisherman bowed obsequiously to the well-dressed nobleman: "Everyone in our village saw it!"

"Is that so..." The nobleman nodded with a smile, "Very well, your information is crucial."

The dark-skinned fisherman's eyes lit up, his face showing even more flattery.

In Eastport, everyone is a businessman who follows the rules.

[Those who give shall receive]

This is the unbreakable rule set by the three grand dukes, and it is the reason for Eastport's prosperity.

Even the high and mighty nobles, after receiving contributions from the commoners, will always give something in return—

Blood spurted skyward from the cross-section of the neck.

The nobleman kicked away the head that rolled to his feet, flicked the blood off his sword, and said coldly:

"Leave no one behind, clean up thoroughly."

The attendant behind him nodded slightly, raised his long sword, and walked towards the nearby village.

Five minutes later, the attendant returned and bowed respectfully to the nobleman:

"Young lord Elfin, it is done."

"Good, let's go."

The young nobleman continued leisurely along the country path.

"I can't let my brother outdo me."

In the 1108th year of the Empire, on the day after the [Day of Calamity].

Six fishing villages in the City of Azurehaven were once again massacred by the sea tribes, with no survivors. The three grand dukes of Eastport were furious, and the Eastport fleet set sail into the Lost Sea, seeking blood for blood.

And the news of a ball of blood flame streaking across the sky and falling into the Lost Sea was never heard again.

*