It has been several days since the news of victory on the Eastern Front came. In the southern region where information transmission channels are relatively developed, more and more news is spreading between cities and rural areas.

In the streets and alleys, in the tavern room, almost everyone is eagerly discussing the recent amazing and exciting news, discussing the past of the Ansu royal family and the future of the Cecil Empire. On this land, even the most ordinary citizens will express their opinions on similar topics, even if the views are ridiculous and shallow.

In a tavern in Panshi City, in a business district, bright magic crystal lights dispelled the dimness at dusk. Rows of wine bottles placed on the bar rack were shiny, and the wine in the bottle was shining with tempting brilliance under the lights. A small rectangular machine like a cabinet was placed next to the bar. The small machine was spreading the countryside tunes that the people in the south loved were simple, bright and cheerful.

A light shone on the nameplate on the top of the small machine, and the words "Code Family Communications Company" glittered on the surface of the brass nameplate.

A man in work clothes sat at the bartender. He took the beer mug handed over by the bartender and raised it slightly: "Cheers to the off-duty time."

"Joe, have you read the recent newspaper?" A tall and thin man sat next to him and said casually, "The royal family has come to an end - even the king has abdicated."

"Inevitably, did Mr. Goldwin say that the royal power has been completed. After this war, the kingdom cannot hold on everywhere. If it weren't for the rescue of our army in the southern border, the north would probably be completely destroyed. The royal family could no longer control the situation. What else could it do if it was not reorganized..."

"That's right, the newspaper said that the eastern part of the Holy Spirit Plain was completely turned into ruins. If the Cecil Legion had not blocked the river in time, the western part would have been unable to be saved."

"Salute to Gowan Cecil-We will call him His Majesty soon," the man in work clothes laughed, shaking the cup in his hand. "It's really good, he's much better than the king... Who is the king?"

"Wesle was just abdicated, but I guess you were talking about Francesey... There is not much difference anyway, we don't know each other."

The two laughed, and no one seemed to regret the end of the Ansu royal power.

For a long time in the past, the people of the Southland did not care about their kings. This abandoned land had been fending on its own since a century ago. Many people of the Southland would even regard it as part of the story for the distant Saint Sunil and the Silver Fort.

This is how ordinary people are.

However, not everyone's thoughts were the same. The sound of a wine glass hitting the table suddenly came from a distance, causing several pairs of eyes to turn around the bar.

"I just can't figure it out..." A man with a mouth full of alcohol and an unshaven beard muttered there, but the muttering sound could be heard around him, "Isn't he the duke? Duke... Why did the duke suddenly become king... Duke can't be king..."

"Hey, Potter, you're drunk again," a familiar person shouted from behind, "You've been here since the morning?"

Another person reminded next to the drunkard: "It's not a king, it should be called His Majesty the Emperor - the title of King is gone."

"The same is true for the emperor... the emperor... and the government affairs department and the constitution are all things that make people mess up... they can't understand," the drunkard stood up shakingly, shook off a few pairs of hands that he wanted to support, and walked past the bar, "Whatever you say is that there are new opportunities everywhere... new opportunities to hell..."

The man who was shaking walked through the aisle and suddenly stopped next to the small machine next to the bar where the country folk songs were being released. His drunken eyes turned around and suddenly anger appeared.

"You...noisy thing, you ruined... ruined my job..."

He cursed, suddenly raised his foot and kicked the machine - but before he raised his foot, the bartender behind the bar had already raised his hand, the magic device on his wrist flashed with a glimmer of light, and a cold ice cube hit the drunk man's face, smashing him to the back.

The two security guards walked forward and pulled the drunkard who was still clamoring, and were about to drag him out of the door, but the bartender called the security guard and came to the drunkard, reaching out to take out a copper plate from the other person's pocket.

"Currently made ice cubes, a copper coin." The bartender shook the magic terminal in front of the drunkard's eyes, used to make ice cubes and fire-attracting fire in his hand, and then nodded before getting up and leaving.

The drunkard was dragged away, and the small riot was just a trivial episode. People continued to drink and chat about what they should be chatting with. Some people who were unfamiliar inquired about the origin of the drunkard, and someone explained: "That? Potter is a bard - in fact, he is a crappy accordionist. Not many people listened to his noises, and now there are no one."

"He went to the factory for a few days, but was fired because he was stealing something, and he was unwilling to do something else steadily. Now... I think he was afraid he had sold all his piano."

"The bard...no wonder he thought it was Cod's radio that smashed his job."

"It's not just a radio, he has blamed the newspapers and Magic Network radio before, and even blamed the chess and football teams - it is said that it is because these things have attracted people's attention that everyone is reluctant to listen to his stories and perform in the square..."

It seems that this small episode has caused people to discuss in their spare time. Listening to the discussion around, the work clothes man in front of the bar turned his head and looked at the tall and thin man beside him: "Talk about it, I remember you are also a bard - now you don't go to the streets to perform, would you blame this machine for smashing your job?"

The tall and thin man looked at the small machine next to the bar, then looked at his friend, and suddenly laughed quite proudly.

"Are you familiar with the sound in this machine?" He smiled proudly, and when he saw the sudden expression of his old friend, his smile became even brighter. "This is what I recorded...well, although I only recorded two of them."

Many people around heard the conversation here, and some people couldn't help but look surprised. Seeing the people in the magic machine appear in front of them at all times, this feeling is novel and interesting at all times, and the tall and thin man who gained many surprised gazes smiled reservedly and added: "But I really like to tell stories more than playing, so I plan to try it in the Magic Network Broadcasting Bureau in Carol City. It seems that I am recruiting people who are good at telling stories to do new programs..."

More and more people gathered around the bar, and a new topic was obviously on the spot, but in a corner far away from the bar, a man wearing an old robe, thin and pale, and messy brown hair was still sitting quietly in his seat, seemingly not interested in what happened in the bar and the topics discussed by people around him.

In front of this thin and pale man, a newspaper of the current issue was quietly spreading on the table. His eyes slowly moved on the newspaper, focusing on one of the pages:

"According to preliminary investigation, the disaster created by the end of all things will be caused by the 'power of gods' they stole, and the 'evil creature' that was jointly eliminated by the Cecil legion and the siren allies, seems to be a imitation of gods created by the end of all things with some means...

"The power of this imitation comes from the fallen God of Nature...

"The God of Nature, the god whom the Druid once believed in, has evidence that the fall of this god occurred three thousand years ago..."

After reading the contents of the newspaper, the thin and pale middle-aged man suddenly sighed softly: "This kind of content... was actually printed on the newspaper, allowing the civilians who had just learned to read for a while... Could it be that we are wrong here?"

No one heard his low sigh. After the thin and pale middle-aged man finished speaking, he stood up quietly. He rubbed his fingers gently, and a wisp of flame suddenly ignited out of thin air, burning the newspaper on the table in an instant.

Looking at the ashes on the table, after a moment of excitement, he turned around and walked straight towards the bar door and pushed it away.

"Panshi City... I didn't expect this place to become so prosperous."

Walking on the streets of this southern gateway city and looking at the tall and brand new buildings and wide and tidy streets around, the middle-aged man couldn't help but mutter.

Then he noticed that the pedestrians around him suddenly ran away, and a large group of security personnel in black uniforms, equipped with weapons and shield devices had appeared at various nearby intersections at some point and quickly gathered towards this side.

The thin and pale man's first reaction was to reach out to his waist, which was wearing a self-defense dagger, but he stopped wisely after noticing the number of security officers and the weapons and equipment in their hands.

A tall sheriff stepped forward, and the solid magic shield shone glimmered beside the sheriff: "Sir, put down your weapon and raise your hand over your head! You have been arrested for violating the Supernatural Control Act!"

While yelling at the notice, the sheriff also quickly looked at the man in front of him out of his professional instinct:

Wearing a traditional short robe with an old style, a strappy cloth belt, hand-sewn boots, and under the short robe, there seemed to be wide-leg trousers... an obvious foreigner, and he must have just arrived in the southern border.

In the southern border, changes in labor tools and labor methods have caused changes in all aspects - due to the safety operation needs of various types of machinery and equipment, the factory's dress code, closing, lightweight, easy to move, beautiful and practical new clothing has gradually become the mainstream. Various long robes, short robes, wide-leg pants, wide-edge long sleeves, and coats with strap-type belts are gradually replaced by closure dresses and light work clothes, as well as daily variants of such clothing. Although some scholars believe that this change of "machine determines people" is a constraint and a regression of traditional customs, it is undeniable that 90% of workers in the southern border are accepting such changes, and those who still maintain old-fashioned clothes... are either more conservative people or foreigners.

In this fortress city located at the southern gateway, the latter has a higher chance.

The middle-aged man surrounded by security team members was obviously still in shock and surprise, but he still understood the sheriff's meaning, untied the short sword and short staff at his waist and placed it on the ground, and raised his hand over his head.

The sheriff nodded: "Very good, sir, active cooperation is a good start - your name?"

The middle-aged man observed the security team around him vigilantly. He was silent for two seconds, but finally cooperated and said, "Bad...Bad Wendell."

"Mr. Badbad?"

The middle-aged man's skin shook slightly: "No, it's Bud Wendell. There is only one Bud."

The sheriff still maintained a serious look: "Okay, Mr. Wendell, you need to go with us next-whether it will be released depends on your performance."

"Why do you want to catch me?" the middle-aged man finally couldn't help but say, "I didn't hurt anything..."

"We detected unauthorized casting," the sheriff stared at Bud, "Times have changed, Mr. Wendell, where is your casting permit?"

Bud was stunned: "…sperform casting permit? What is that?"

The sheriff shrugged: "Okay, then it seems you've smuggled in. This time, you're probably going to be locked up."

Bud's eyes shook for a moment, but after a brief hesitation and thought, he finally sighed.

"It doesn't matter now," he sighed, "It doesn't matter, I won't resist."
Chapter completed!