Xirui Yangxin was far less strong than she imagined herself to be. Just like the Children of the Forest crows that had been burned before, after being roasted several times by the Dragon Queen with practiced ease, she immediately answered every question, revealing even the color of the underwear of the god she worshipped.
First of all, the goddess of lust was named Murteya, presiding over youth, beauty, and sex. She never wore underwear. As for her power—
Like the propaganda of many gods, in the doctrine of the goddess of lust, Murteya created the sun and the moon, the sky and the earth, and all living things within them.
In short, the entire world was created by her alone.
Dany had seen many similar doctrines before. Some minor gods, lacking real strength, relied on exaggeration to attract followers.
Well, The Seven-Pointed Star also boasted in much the same way. At the very beginning, it declared the greatness of the Seven Gods: everything in the world was created by them, and they were the creators.
Even Dany felt embarrassed reading it, but since it was a classic placed at the very front, there was no way to revise it, so she could only continue feeling awkward about it.
However, she did not dare to underestimate the goddess of lust.
Dany had previously made a major mistake, thinking that the goddesses of desire worshipped in the pleasure gardens of each Free City were all different, much like how different regions had different gods of death.
According to Xirui, although each city-state did not worship the same goddess of lust, their identities were similar. They were all emissary spirits of the goddess Murteya, in other words, demigod angels.
It could be said that the goddess of lust was the supreme deity of love, beauty, and youth, while the emissary spirits were subordinate gods within her divine system.
It was similar to the relationship between the Mother of the Rhoyne and her many lesser river spirits.
After Tyrion refused to go to Yi Ti as a national advisor, Dany had planned to send Saint Matthew eastward to spread the faith. But her actions were not unique. In fact, other gods had long been doing the same.
For example, the goddess of lust stationed her emissary spirits in city-states with different peoples and customs.
Generally speaking, she would select followers from among the locals, cultivate them into emissary spirits, and have them govern the region on her behalf.
Xirui was not among the highest-ranking emissaries. She usually cultivated in Lys and served the main deity, primarily responsible for collecting the souls of believers from Westeros.
Back then, Xirui had also considered establishing a pleasure garden in Westeros, but Brynden's mind had not been completely muddled.
A brothel-keeping goddess who commanded so many "angels"—what level would she be?
Dany was not entirely sure.
She was certainly not as powerful as the Mother of the Rhoyne, because Xirui, this so-called "angel," had performed too poorly, unable to last even a single move against her.
Even if the goddess of lust was far stronger than Xirui, how much stronger could she be?
That was a long story. Dany did not float in the air lost in thought. After subduing Xirui in one move and asking a few questions, she stuffed her together with the Spicer family into her faith space, into the side opposing heaven—hell.
Yes, the Spicer family were the other responsible party for the Red Wedding—the spies Tywin had planted by Robb's side.
Dany then turned her gaze to the rope hanging from the southeastern corner of Crag Castle.
At midnight, the north wind howled, and urine would freeze into a stream. The sky was dark and starless.
Outside the city, the snow-covered ground was dim and empty. Along the three-zhang-high old walls, several lines of torches moved in crossing patterns.
Those were patrols carrying torches.
The red light of pine torches illuminated the soldiers' steaming breath like a furnace, and cast interwoven dark red reflections on the snow below.
Even though House Westerling lacked the funds to repair the walls, with the Long Night descending and the Westerlands nearly fallen, they dared not neglect round-the-clock vigilance.
Just after a squad of ten soldiers passed by, a rope suddenly dropped from the battlements in the southeast corner. A small figure slid down like an ape, reaching the snowy ground in less than ten seconds.
By the faint reflected light of the snow, one could vaguely make out a capable young girl in leather armor, around thirteen or fourteen years old.
At the same time, a gray wolf the size of a calf silently emerged from the bushes, came to the girl's side, and rubbed its large head against her chest.
The small girl ignored the thick hemp rope swaying in the wind, climbed onto the giant wolf's back, let out a low cry, and quickly ran north.
After running several hundred meters, near the forest, she climbed down from the wolf's back, rummaged in the snow for a while, pushed aside the thick snow layer, and dug out a sled about the size of a reclining chair.
She then fastened the sled behind the giant wolf, sat on it herself, covered her body with a large sable coat, and leisurely sped forward.
The sled moved extremely fast.
Dany chuckled, rising into the air as winds swirled around her. Soon, a tornado ten meters thick pierced the sky and earth, roaring as it chased after the sled "dog."
"Woooaah~~~" The giant wolf sensed danger and began whining as soon as the wind column took shape.
But at that moment, the small girl had already fallen asleep from exhaustion, even snoring, unaware of her companion's anxiety.
Only after the wolf let out a loud roar did the girl awaken from her dream.
Unfortunately, whether she woke or not made no difference. The tornado was faster than the wolf and deliberately pursued them.
"Ah! Who is controlling the tornado?" The girl turned back and shouted at it.
In truth, she already had a vague guess.
After all, the tale of the Dragon Queen slaughtering wights with the wind had long spread throughout the Westerlands, and even most nobles of the Seven Kingdoms knew of it.
"Hooo—" No one answered her, but the strange howl of the tornado grew louder, as if roaring at her.
The girl was more agile than a monkey. While the sled was still moving at high speed, she leapt onto the direwolf's back and quickly removed the harness around its neck.
"Nymeria, we split up!" After freeing the direwolf, she clutched her head, flipped over, and fell off its back.
But the direwolf did not run.
It braked abruptly, its claws sliding four or five meters across the snow, scattering powder.
"Woooaah—" It turned back, staring at the girl and whining, wanting to approach yet not daring to disobey her command.
"Go!" The girl staggered to her feet, dizzy, and grew anxious and angry seeing the direwolf stop.
"Not one of you will escape!" Suddenly, a majestic female voice echoed through the winds across all directions, like divine judgment.
"I surrender!" The girl, who had been about to flee into the forest, stopped helplessly and raised her hands.
The response she received was the rapidly approaching tornado.
Like a strand of hair falling into a toilet, she was instantly drawn into the vortex and disappeared without a trace.
"Ahwooo!" The direwolf howled in anger, retreating as it did so, but it was still slower than the wind, like a dirty sock tossed into a washing machine.
"What are you doing? That's Arya and Nymeria!"
As expected, someone immediately spoke up in protest.
"My eyes aren't blind," Dany said irritably.
The tornado did not stop. It merely shrank in size, changed direction, and sped toward Tarbeck.
At the center of the storm, the Dragon Queen looked relaxed, watching the girl and wolf spinning in the wind, smiling with great amusement.
"What are you trying to do? Why are you tormenting her?" Bran asked nervously.
"What has Arya done? Don't tell me you don't know. I'm afraid even a tornado can't wash away the blood on her," Dany's smile vanished.
"Before it happened, I truly didn't know," Bran said cautiously. "I understand she went too far, but you also know her situation.
She lost parental guidance at a young age and was instead brainwashed by the Faceless Men. After that, she even practiced your evil meditation technique—"
"Now that it has happened, someone must take responsibility! The fact that she could do such a thing proves her mind is mature.
No matter her age or what she has experienced before, none of it can erase her crimes," Dany said firmly.
After a long silence, Bran cautiously suggested, "How about… you spin her a few times in the tornado, then punish her by making her serve in the army to atone for her crimes?"
"With such a major incident in the Westerlands, do you think it can just be brushed aside? Shouldn't the victims' families, the millions who died in the Westerlands, and even the people of the Seven Kingdoms receive an explanation?" Dany said calmly.
"You want her life!" Bran exclaimed.
"Before saying that, look at how many lives she has taken," Dany replied, accelerating as the tornado left the ground and flew through the air as fast as a galloping horse.
"Can't you show some leniency?" Bran's tone carried a hint of pleading.
"The situation has escalated too far. There is no room for leniency," Dany shook her head and said seriously. "First Casterly Rock, now Crag Castle. Even a fool knows who the culprit is.
If you want to hide it, how will you do so?
Today the Starks are powerful, with a Three-Eyed Raven and a skinchanger, while the Westerlands are weak and forced to endure in silence. But the Starks cannot remain powerful forever.
Without today's judgment, there will be no end to hatred. The people and nobles of the Westerlands will never forget the destruction of their land.
Use that muddled brain of yours and think carefully. A hundred years from now, will your House Stark be able to withstand revenge from the Westerlands?"
Others might not know, but the dwarf had certainly guessed the culprit long ago. Did he reveal even a hint?
No.
He said nothing.
Pretending to be deaf, feigning ignorance.
And the others of the Westerlands were not fools either. They must have had their suspicions, yet they also said nothing.
Harsh words spoken aloud are far less frightening than thoughts kept buried in the heart.
Today you can slaughter another's entire family. Tomorrow, others can wipe out yours.
Only after a long time, when Tarbeck Hall came into view in the distance, did Bran sigh bitterly. "Your Majesty, I was mistaken. You are right.
The longer hatred ferments, the deeper and more impossible it is to resolve. Ending this matter sooner is actually more beneficial for the Starks."
At the end, he added with a pleading tone, "Your Majesty, Arya has slain the Night King and made great contributions to the war against the dead. The incident at Casterly Rock was not her intention."
"I will judge her fairly, justly, and openly. Your House Stark may also participate."
The girl was quite resilient. Even after being sucked into the tornado, she endured for a full half hour, vomiting everything in her stomach, even down to her intestines, before finally losing consciousness.
When she groggily awoke, she found herself surrounded by darkness, confined within a narrow space, seemingly inside a thin wooden coffin.
Voices could be heard above the coffin, while a rumbling sound came from beneath, as if it were still moving quickly.
Had the coffin been placed on a carriage?
Thinking this, she struggled slightly.
Then she realized her hands and feet were bound with chains.
The sound of the chains seemed to attract attention outside. The conversation paused briefly, then loud, panicked shouts followed:
"The little wolf girl is awake! Quick, notify Her Majesty the Queen! The bloodthirsty wolf demon has awakened!"
"The blood demon is struggling! She's about to break out!"
"Seven hells, the blood demon is so terrifying! Even steel chains can't hold her?"
An uproar broke out around them.
(End of Chapter)
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