The lilting sound of a violin rose.
On a battlefield drenched in blood, the music felt utterly out of place. Yet under its melody, the monsters stopped one after another, as though caught by an Immobility Spell. They could only stare around them, eyes wide with confusion.
Its range was limited, but there was no mistaking who had come.
Chen Ye had yet to speak when Uncle Wang, not far away, looked ready to burst with rage.
"Your Majesty, what are you doing here?!"
Sansan kept playing her violin as she stepped onto the battlefield. Bloody tears streamed from her ruby-red eyes like scarlet rivulets.
A moment later.
The piece ended.
Sansan lowered the violin and began to pant softly. At the same time, Ron's shout came over the communicator.
"What are you waiting for? This is our chance! Take back that position!"
Uncle Wang ignored him.
The old man rushed to Sansan and steadied her frail body, repeating his question in alarm. "Your Majesty, what are you doing here?!"
Sansan shook her head and pushed Uncle Wang away.
"I only came to take a look. I'm fine."
"But with your position—"
Sansan turned and looked calmly at Uncle Wang.
"It's precisely because of my position that I should be here on the front line, shouldn't I?"
Uncle Wang froze, then immediately understood what she meant.
Looking back, he saw soldiers cheering for their king everywhere his gaze reached, not just in this one area. The battered remnants had rallied, their morale soaring so high that they were even beginning to push back.
The former king had been no decent man, but a century of relentless indoctrination had raised his authority to an almost unbelievable height. As his successor, Sansan had been elevated to something approaching divinity as well.
Simply