"Does anyone else wish to die by my blade?" Sylvia asked coldly, her murderous gaze sweeping across the crowd of protesters.
The protesters stood frozen in place, too shocked to respond. Disbelief was etched into their faces as they stared at the severed head lying on the ground, blood slowly pooling beneath it.
The man who had just been killed wasn't some ordinary merchant—he was the head of a prominent noble household. A Noble Count, no less. And yet, despite his status, he was executed in the blink of an eye.
Fear surged through the crowd like a tidal wave. Their bodies trembled, and cold sweat drenched their backs.
"H-How could you kill him just like that?! He was a high-ranking noble—A Noble Count!" one of the braver protesters finally shouted, though his voice trembled with fear. The shock still hadn't faded from his eyes.
"Are you questioning me?" Sylvia raised an eyebrow, her eyes locking onto the man.
