Chapter 153 An unexpected turn of events in a desperate situation! - Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Under the silent gaze of the crowd, Lynn unhesitatingly placed his palm on the surface of the sealed object. Accompanied by a colorful mist-like energy slowly drifting out of the sphere, countless illusory particles danced in the air, merging and splitting like a docile swarm of bees. Lynn then gently closed his eyes, allowing the energies to penetrate his mind. His memories from his past life were systematically protected, so there was nothing to worry about. What they coveted were his memories after he transmigrated. Although the system couldn't affect them, he had an ace up his sleeve to counter this intrusion. When the force from the sealed object invaded his mental realm, the symbolic anchor mark representing the Chosen of the End quietly trembled in his mind. The next moment, the floating colorful particles seemed to find a target, quickly coalescing from their scattered state into a concentrated mass. Everyone present then witnessed figures composed of various particles emerging from the colored mist. Though somewhat blurred, it was clear enough to discern the identities of the figures. With brief observation, it was evident that this was a scene resembling a banquet hall. Since most of the onlookers were irrelevant to the memory, only a rough silhouette was formed, with faces remaining hazy. Only two young men standing on the spot had clear and visible figures. Seeing Darlion again made Marquis Mosgra experience an uncontrollable twinge of pain in his heart. Don't worry, dear, your grandfather will avenge you. He cast a cold glance at Lynn, thinking to himself. The scene depicted by the colorful mist gradually moved. A voice suddenly filled the entire council hall. It was Darlion speaking. "Your Excellency, this represents the Mosgra family's sincerity," he said slowly. "I hope you can join our alliance, take the lead, and guide us forward." The words were vague yet carried deep implications clear to most present. Prince Felite raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Clearly, they understood this was the Mosgra family's effort to win over an elector to support the Second Prince. Unfortunately, for unknown reasons, Prince Felite had gradually distanced himself from the Mosgra family since returning from the border. Left with no choice, they redirected their support to the Fourth Prince. Previous efforts made on his behalf were transparently displayed for all to see. It was a dangerous topic. Although the royal selection was in full swing, few dared to openly discuss it, as doing so was akin to interfering in the future of the St. Roland Emperor. However, St. Roland VI showed no sign of pursuing the matter, his expression stern and solemn, betraying no emotions. The conversation in the scene continued. A middle-aged man with a burly physique, clearly identifiable as Duke Tyrus, appeared in the mist. The Duke seemed unimpressed with Darlion's proposal. He took a sip from his glass and said indifferently, "All my current focus is on the frontier battlefield. I have no interest in the royal selection. Do not bring up such topics with me again." His demeanor was extremely arrogant. Though it wasn't unusual for Duke Tyrus to display such arrogance, Marquis Mosgra, whose desire for power and status was twisted, felt his pride wounded. He watched the scene coldly, saying nothing. At present, Darlion's actions seemed appropriate with no apparent faults. He had initially worried that perhaps Darlion's arrogance had offended Duke Tyrus, leading to his demise. Now, Marquis Mosgra's last ounce of doubt was dispelled. Yet, he barely had time to relax before the next scene froze his heart. Instead of heeding Duke Tyrus's words, Darlion took a step forward. Though his posture was respectful, everyone could hear the deeper meaning in his subsequent words. "Your Grace, addressing you as 'Elector' doesn’t necessarily grant you supreme power." "The future of this nation ultimately rests with the Emperor." "The current imperial administrative system is cumbersome and stagnant, with noble power increasingly seized by the church. Your present taxation task must have made you acutely aware of this predicament.” Duke Tyrus frowned, "So what?" "So," Darlion suddenly lowered his voice, "I believe this empire needs a thorough 'reform'." "Reform?" "Yes, reform." "The past has been too dim-witted and weak, including our so-called great St. Roland VI and Emperor Calderon." "In essence, the old order must be overthrown, and once the dust settles, we will be the greatest contributors to the new order's establishment." "Only a royal candidate with immense courage and ambition can lead us into a new era." "Thus, by controlling the royal selection, one essentially controls the new era." "Your Grace, doesn't this entice you even a little?" Darlion's gaze, lively and intense, settled on the Duke before him. The Duke frowned, just about to say something. Who knew that the next moment, a righteous voice suddenly erupted beside them? A dark-haired, blue-eyed youth with a flushed face and trembling hands—a visible manifestation of deep anger—spoke. "You...," he gritted his teeth, "you treacherous rebel! How dare you insult the great and wise Emperor Calderon!" "As a descendant ennobled by His Majesty, upholding the empire's honor and iron will, I order you to retract your words immediately, or I shall arrest you for treason!" The youth grasped at his belt, where a gun was holstered. Yet despite identifying his opponent, Darlion showed no remorse, a disdainful smile playing across his lips. "So it's you," Darlion sneered, "the so-called 'disgrace of the nobility', exiled from the capital. Seems like, even stripped of your divine factor, you still manage to brim with spirit." "That does put my mind at ease, given all that the Mosgra family has done to you." "What have you... done?" "What have we done? You seem clueless?" Darlion approached Lynn and lowered his voice, "Why, framing you for ambitious recklessness, cursing Marquis Bartleon to keep him comatose, and... murdering your brother on the battlefield, of course." "Sometimes, only by living as livestock can one find bliss in ignorance; facing reality is but despair." "Why can't you grasp such fundamental truth?" Observing the youth's furious and pained demeanor, Darlion laughed heartily. Watching the slowly raising gun, he remained unfazed: "Remember, your sister is still within our clutches, surviving only by providing blood for the research of the Fourth Prince." "Frankly, even the royalty atop the throne are extraordinarily indifferent; despite the Bartleon family shedding blood for the empire, in the end, tears remain." "Yet knowing all this, what can you do? Dare you—" "Bang!" With a sudden gunshot, the scene abruptly halted. The entire council hall fell into a profound silence, the drop of a pin audible. Marquis Mosgra stood trembling, pale and sweating profusely, barely able to remain upright. It was only Eunice’s support that kept him from collapsing. Yet at this moment, his mind was wholly occupied by the sealed object. From start to finish, there was no indication that Lynn's memory had been altered in any way. So, this scene was genuinely what transpired at the venue that day. But... how could this be?! Instinctively, he looked up and discovered that at some point, St. Roland VI was gazing at him with a profound look from his high seat. Feeling the weight of that gaze, Marquis Mosgra's mind exploded with a roaring buzz. Someone is trying to frame me!!!