"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
"Stop that assassin! Stop him now!"
"Oh my god!!"
A chorus of panicked voices erupted from the crowd. Some were furious, some were terrified, and some were even in a panic, some covering their faces and weeping, unable to bear watching the scene any longer.
Just now, many people saw the assassin stab down with a knife.
Now, the guards on the stage rushed forward and frantically pulled the assassin off Von Palen.
They roared as they grabbed the assassin by the neck, twisted his arm, and punched him hard in the face. Someone else used their knee to forcefully press down on the assassin's back, seemingly trying to break his spine.
During this time, large amounts of blood stained the guards' hands, and the strong smell of blood spread instantly. Although the guards were furious, they turned pale at the sight of the blood.
Because not all of this blood came from the assassin.
Lying on the ground, Feng Palen's face was slightly pale, with a few drops of blood on it. A dagger was stuck in his chest, and blood was slowly spreading, even splattering onto the collar of his white undershirt.
Pulling the assassin away and beating him, and seeing Von Palen's current state, all happened within a few seconds. Bowerman had already rushed over. He almost stumbled as he pushed aside the guards blocking his way, stepped over the assassin's body, and took three steps at a time to reach Von Palen's side. He bent down, hugged him, and pulled out the dagger.
This action immediately caused blood to gush from Von Palen's chest, followed by Bowerman's hoarse yet particularly piercing cry of grief:
"His Majesty!!"
As Bowerman shouted, through the gaps in the guards' cover, the people in the distance saw the outline of von Palen's body, covered in blood.
The scene terrified them, which gradually turned into grief, and then cries of anguish erupted in an instant:
"Oh my God, Your Majesty!"
"Quickly! Call the doctor over!"
"Help His Majesty! Someone, please help him!"
"What did that bastard do to our Emperor?! What did he do?!"
Screams and cries filled the entire St. Marienplatz. Some people even clutched their heads and broke down in despair, while others collapsed to their knees and wailed.
For the nation and the people, Von Palen has always been their pillar of strength. Even now, with the war going poorly and the country in deep crisis, as long as this man stands tall, they are still willing to believe that he can lead them out of their predicament.
But now, he, who was once regarded as a pillar of strength, is covered in blood.
It was like a terrible nightmare, cruel and bloody, filling one with despair. An overwhelming dark cloud filled the heart, as if the end of the world had arrived today.
At that moment, tens of thousands of people let out desperate cries and heart-wrenching sobs.
Meanwhile, the guards had formed a human wall, surrounding the blood-soaked von Palen, and even the officers, led by Wolfgang, were kept outside.
But at that moment...
Suddenly, a blood-stained hand rose above the guards' heads.
The crowd, still watching the podium, was immediately drawn to the raised hand. Their pupils constricted, they covered their mouths with their hands, their faces filled with disbelief, yet a surge of eager anticipation welled up in their hearts.
The next moment, the blood-soaked hand clenched into a fist and swung it swiftly and powerfully!
The moment they saw this scene, the onlookers felt as if their hearts were being gripped tightly. They were instantly shaken, and the wailing subsided by half. Almost everyone stared wide-eyed, not daring to blink, just staring intently at that fist.
Under the watchful eyes of countless people, the fist swung again, one blow after another, with an indomitable power, like an indomitable warrior throwing punches at a powerful enemy.
In just a few breaths, the hearts of those who witnessed this scene began to race. Their throats bobbed, their eyes shone with intense anticipation, their bodies trembled violently, and they unconsciously clenched their fists.
Suddenly.
"Fonpalen!!"
Suddenly, a hoarse shout rang out from a certain direction, and the moment that name was mentioned, the crowd, who had just been unable to break down, began to shout along.
With tears in their eyes, they raised their fists and swung them in unison with the movement of that fist, shouting at the podium with all their might:
"Fonpalen!"
Centered on the podium, the entire St. Marienplatz, and even the streets outside the plaza that were already packed with people, all followed suit, raising their fists and shouting loudly, even though they hadn't yet learned what was happening inside the venue.
"Fonpalen!"
"Fonpalen!"
The shouts grew louder and louder, as if thunder were rumbling in the clear sky. This thunderous sound made Wolfgang, standing outside the podium, turn pale. He too was shouting with his mouth open, but he had no strength to make a sound.
Looking at the crowd shouting their hearts out, Wolfgang's lips trembled, his heart sank deeper into despair, and despair began to well up within him.
Unlike Wolfgang, the people were filled with hope, and they all strongly hoped that von Palen would be safe and sound and continue to lead them.
So they shouted his name at the top of their lungs, hoping to see him stand before everyone again, and as their shouts grew louder, they truly saw hope being born.
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