Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 154: Lynn the Madman, Rises to Kill!

As the vision ended, the room fell into a deafening silence.

The audience stared blankly at the boy who had just removed his hand from the Sealed Artifact. No one spoke a word.

What could they possibly say?

A descendant of a once-loyal and distinguished military family had fallen to ruin, betrayed by greedy conspirators and left with a family torn apart, all meeting tragic ends. While such schemes were hardly rare in the Imperial Capital, witnessing them unfold so vividly in front of their eyes struck differently.

Some of those with a shred of conscience averted their gazes, unwilling to meet the eyes of the pale-faced youth. Even Tiya, who had been the one to demand Lynn use the Sealed Artifact, instinctively took half a step back.

Her face was pale as well, though not from physical discomfort.

The damning words of Dallion had unsettled her, creating a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, doubt, and guilt.

From the beginning, her impression of Lynn Bartleon had been terrible. He had publicly opposed her beloved Xiya, fabricated a nauseating story about knowing her, and generally conducted himself in a way she found insufferable. To rid herself of this pest, she had impulsively proposed using the Sealed Artifact to force his hand.

Yet, throughout it all, Lynn had shown no resentment toward her proposal. And now, the memories displayed revealed the truth and origin of his circumstances.

As the Silent Saintess, Tiya typically ignored worldly matters, dedicating herself to rituals in service of the Goddess and spiritual cultivation. She had known nothing about the Bartleon family’s tragic history. To her, Lynn had simply been a violent rogue who relied on underhanded methods.

But now... everything seemed to have a reason.

Though Tiya appeared emotionless, like a lifeless doll, her devout study of the Moonlight Scriptures had instilled a deep capacity for empathy and compassion within her. Learning of Lynn’s wretched fate, she couldn’t help but imagine herself in his shoes.

Framed for ambition, betrayed, a father in a coma, a brother murdered, and even a sister oppressed by the royal family...

If it were me, could I still stand tall, face my accusers, and remain composed enough to explain myself?

Tiya inhaled deeply, trying to quell the unease in her heart. She had no answer to the question. Instinctively, she reached out to hold Xiya’s hand but recoiled as the curse flared the moment her fingers brushed his.

It was then that the boy’s gaze swept across the room, calm and unyielding. When his eyes briefly met hers, he spoke:

“Are you satisfied now?”

His pale face betrayed his suffering from the Sealed Artifact’s backlash, his body visibly weakened. Though his words addressed the entire assembly of doubters, Tiya couldn’t shake the feeling that he was speaking directly to her.

Are you satisfied now?

The faint trace of anguish in his tone stung her deeply, as if she were the one who had cornered him, forcing him to carve out his heart to prove his innocence. The thought left her more unsettled than ever. This time, however, her frustration carried a new undercurrent—guilt.

No, it wasn’t guilt. It was simply pity for his tragic background, nothing more.

Besides, I don’t even know him!

Grinding her teeth in frustration, Tiya longed to leave the council hall entirely. Yet, seeing Xiya’s grim expression and clenched fists, she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

At that moment, Saint Roland VI, seated on the dais, shifted his gaze to Lynn and broke the silence.

“Do you have anything else to say?”

The nearly prostrate Marquis Mosgra, drenched in sweat, hastened to respond before Lynn could: “Your Majesty, this matter was absolutely not sanctioned by the Mosgra family! Moreover... furthermore, upon closer consideration, there are many suspicious details at play. For instance—”

“Lord Fred, there is no need to worry,” Saint Roland VI interrupted, frowning. “While the authenticity of these memories is unclear, your loyalty has always been evident to me.”

“Besides,” the emperor added with a cold laugh, “it’s just a few disparaging remarks from one of your younger kin. How many people out there secretly curse me or wish me dead? Do you think they are few?”

The emperor’s dismissive tone seemed meant to smooth things over, but Marquis Mosgra’s expression grew even more rigid. Despite the apparent reassurance, the emperor’s words had implicitly confirmed Dallion’s treasonous claims.

This is not a good sign.

What kind of sovereign could truly disregard such damning words?

Marquis Mosgra didn’t know. But he did know that when Saint Roland VI had ascended to the throne as a dark horse, all rival princes of his generation had died under mysterious circumstances within just a few years.

Sweat dripped from his forehead as he realized that the Mosgra family now stood at a critical crossroads. One misstep could plunge them into ruin.

Lynn, responding to the emperor’s question, finally spoke.

“The Marquis’s excuses are quite amusing,” he said calmly. “You were the ones who doubted me, who proposed using the Sealed Artifact to probe my memories. I complied with every demand without resistance, yet now you wish to accuse me of fabricating them? I won’t accept such slander.”

Marquis Mosgra gritted his teeth. “But it isn’t impossible! You must have prepared for this in advance before returning to the capital. And besides—”

“Besides,” he continued, desperation creeping into his voice, “the Third Princess is by your side! Her power is more than capable of altering memories. That’s why... that’s why I refuse to acknowledge these results!”

At this point, Marquis Mosgra’s arguments had devolved into baseless rambling.

“Heh.”

A faint chuckle suddenly echoed through the hall, drawing everyone’s attention.

The crowd instinctively turned to see the Third Princess, Yveste, who was seated in her wheelchair, now casting her gaze in their direction. Her earlier indifference had led many to assume she was preparing to discard Lynn as a lost cause. However, it now seemed that was not the case.

Yveste spoke with a light, almost dismissive tone. “I’ve heard such doubts countless times since I was a child. They’re dreadfully tiresome.”

Marquis Mosgra opened his mouth as if to respond, but no words came out.

The next moment, Yveste’s voice turned chillingly cold. “But just because I’m tired of them doesn’t mean I’ve grown accustomed to such affronts.” Her crimson eyes locked onto him like a venomous serpent. “Old fool, if you dare to question me, are you prepared to stake your life on it?”

A bone-chilling cold coursed through Marquis Mosgra’s entire body, leaving him trembling. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, despite Eunice’s desperate attempt to hold him upright.

Saint Roland VI’s face darkened with irritation, his disapproval palpable. He raised his sacred scepter and struck it against the floor.

An invisible wave of divine power surged through the hall, instantly dispelling the oppressive killing intent that Yveste had emanated.

“Do you all think I don’t exist?!” the emperor thundered, his fury directed at Yveste.

Yet she seemed utterly indifferent, ignoring him entirely. After delivering her warning, she turned her wheelchair and rolled back to her original position without so much as a glance in his direction.

A glint of coldness flickered in Saint Roland VI’s eyes as he watched her retreat.

The atmosphere grew tense, the air heavy with unspoken animosity. No one dared to intercede in the conflict between the emperor and his daughter, lacking the standing or courage to do so.

After a moment of silence, Saint Roland VI chose to move past the incident. His gaze shifted to the prostrate Marquis Mosgra, and his voice turned coolly indifferent, the imperial detachment unmistakable.

“Lord Fred, if you’re unwell, you may return home to recover. The duties of Minister of Military Affairs will be temporarily handled by Ralf. Once you’ve recuperated, you may resume your post.”

The message was clear.

While the emperor’s expression suggested indifference toward Dallion’s accusations of “ineffectiveness and weakness,” his actions conveyed a different message. It no longer mattered whether the revelations were true or false. The mere display of such a vision had already sealed the Mosgra family’s fate.

Of course, this “punishment” was more symbolic than substantial. The true power behind the Mosgra family was not the marquis but the empire’s youngest Valkyrie, Irina. As long as Irina retained her influence, the Mosgra family could rise again once the storm passed. Ultimately, it was all subject to the whim of Saint Roland VI.

This understanding was the consensus among the onlookers. However, consensus did not equate to acceptance.

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s grace,” Marquis Mosgra replied hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot and his body trembling.

The evening, intended to ruin Lynn utterly, had ended with the tables turned. Not only had the attack failed, but he himself had been dragged down instead.

Curse it!

The marquis seethed inwardly, a suffocating fury building in his chest with no outlet. For now, though, retreat was his only option.

Stealing a glance at Cardinal Connor behind the emperor, Marquis Mosgra noted the cleric’s calm expression and the subtle nod he gave in response.

That boy cannot be allowed to live!

This unspoken agreement between them only solidified their resolve. From the moment they had moved against the Bartleon family over a year ago, there was no turning back.

With a dark expression, the marquis allowed Eunice to help him toward the exit. Yet Eunice’s thoughts were filled with shock and disbelief.

Before tonight’s events, she had taken pride in her family’s ascent to the upper echelons of imperial society, basking in the flattery and admiration of others. But now, she had seen that all it took was a single decree from Saint Roland VI to strip them of everything.

Losing the role of Minister of Military Affairs would cripple her family’s power. Though the position had been temporary, the marquis had always struggled with his inability to truly control the military. Now, their influence was shattered entirely.

Eunice turned her gaze to the one responsible for all this—Lynn Bartleon. A hatred deeper than ever surged within her.

All we did was plant a few servants in your household and arrange for your sister’s blood to be used for research by the Fourth Prince. So many families would have killed for that connection! Yet you repay us with such vile retribution?!

Her heart burned with venomous resentment. But there was no room for her to voice it here. Glancing at the silent Fourth Prince Joshua, she clenched her teeth, suppressing her fury as she continued toward the exit.

Just then, Lynn’s voice rang out, halting her in her tracks.

“Miss Mosgra, aren’t you forgetting something?”

The sudden words drew the attention of everyone in the room.

Eunice’s twisted expression turned icy as she responded coldly, “That so-called duel you proposed was nothing but a childish farce. I’m under no obligation to play along.”

Ignoring him, she continued supporting the marquis toward the door.

But tonight’s events had played out countless times in Lynn’s mind. Every move, every death, every scenario had been meticulously planned. There was no way he would let her walk away.

“But you picked up the glove I threw!” Lynn’s voice rose. “According to ancient knightly tradition, by accepting the glove, you consented to the duel. There is no turning back!”

“In the name of the Saint Spirit Tree, the duel ends only with the death of one of the participants!”

In an instant, Lynn’s body erupted with a surge of extraordinary power, radiant and intense.

The sudden display drew gasps from the crowd. The First Princess Shirina’s eyes widened in disbelief, and Second Prince Felit’s jaw dropped as he stared at Lynn in shock.

He dares?!

To openly challenge the empire’s laws and authority in such a solemn setting, under the very gaze of Saint Roland VI—it was unthinkable!

Has he gone mad?

Hearts pounded as the onlookers realized they were about to witness an unprecedented clash. The tension in the air reached a fever pitch.

And at that moment, a thunderous voice erupted.

“HOW DARE YOU?!”

Saint Roland VI’s roar boomed through the hall like a resounding bell, carrying an unstoppable force of divine power that surged toward Lynn with crushing intensity.

At the same time, the Silverwing Knights, who had been standing by, transformed into blurs of motion, vanishing from their original positions. Xiya, too, attempted to step forward to subdue Lynn, only for Shirina to grab his wrist, holding him back.

Among the crowd, the petite Ninth Princess gasped at Lynn’s audacious display, her lips slightly parted in awe and a glimmer of admiration in her eyes.

Yet, neither of the two central figures in this drama—Lynn and Yveste—paid any mind to the reactions of those around them. Their gazes met for a brief moment across the hall, a silent understanding passing between them.

Looking at the radiant black-haired youth, Yveste’s expression remained calm yet filled with quiet satisfaction.

This return to the Imperial Capital was not for peace or compromise.

It was to deliver a thunderous shock to the fools who refused to respect their boundaries.

The fearsome reputation of the Third Princess, Yveste, was meant to resound throughout Glostein.

Go. Do whatever it is you want to do. This princess will always have your back.

In that instant, an unprecedented surge of crimson energy burst forth from Yveste’s body like a blazing sun, flooding the council hall with blinding brilliance.

With unparalleled arrogance and force, she suppressed everyone in the room within moments.

As a Second-Rank Extraordinary, Lynn had no clear idea of his limits—he had never tested himself in combat. But one thing he knew for certain: possessing the maximum number of Divine Factors, enhanced further through the Witch’s refinement, his power far exceeded what someone like Eunice could withstand.

Under her panicked and furious gaze, the playing card between Lynn’s fingers disintegrated into ten threads of flowing black energy. He raised his wrist slowly, palm facing upward.

In an instant, the black threads shot out like writhing serpents, intertwining, weaving, and coiling in the air. What had once been loose Endless Threads now coalesced under his deliberate control into a cohesive form.

Moments later, a spiraling black lance, formed from countless threads, solidified in his hand. The weapon gleamed coldly under the hall’s lights.

Seeing this, Marquis Mosgra’s face contorted in rage and fear. He shoved Eunice forward with a desperate yell, “Run! Run now!”

Stumbling, Eunice regained her footing only to flee toward the exit in terror, utterly consumed by the primal instinct to survive. Resistance didn’t even cross her mind; all she wanted was to escape the council hall alive.

Around them, everyone else remained immobilized by Yveste’s oppressive aura, unable to act. Only Saint Roland VI and the cardinals of the major churches retained their ability to move, but even they were forced into inaction by the rapid escalation of events.

Everything unfolded in the blink of an eye. By the time the onlookers regained their senses, it was already too late to stop Lynn’s rampage.

Lynn’s gaze remained locked on Eunice, cold and unyielding, as his heart pounded with the furious rhythm of the Heart of the Scorching Flame Dragon. His entire body surged with power, his muscles taut like a drawn bowstring, ready to release.

His objective was simple.

“Boom!”

With an explosive burst of force, the black spiral lance shot forth like an arrow loosed from a bow. It tore through the air with a deafening, sharp whistle, leaving a black streak in its wake as it vanished from sight.

The distance of several dozen meters closed in an instant.

“Pfftt!”

The sound of flesh and bone rupturing echoed through the silent hall as the black lance pierced Eunice’s chest without resistance, slamming into the marble floor beneath her. Blood erupted like a crimson fountain, splattering across the pristine stone and flowing outward in rivulets.

Eunice’s face froze in an expression of utter despair, her once-bright eyes dimming in an instant.

A heartbeat later, her body crumpled lifelessly to the ground, devoid of breath or vitality.

The council hall fell into a deathly silence.