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The respondent smacked their lips, "Indeed, they\'re delicious. I bought a bunch of radishes yesterday. I\'ve never tasted radishes as good as these, and they were only a copper coin more expensive than the usual market price."

"So, you mean to say..." Ansel observed the unfortunate vendor lying dead at his stall, his tone filled with melancholy, "The other vendor couldn\'t compete with his sales, so he... murdered him?"

"Ha, it\'s not just about not being able to compete! That vendor didn\'t have a single customer in three days! Now, everyone only looks for stalls marked with the Pelican Trading Commerce emblem in the market, not even glancing at the others."

"Do they have that much stock?" The young man asked, his tone innocent and puzzled.

"Who knows! Their vegetables seem to appear out of thin air! Anyway, there\'s always someone delivering them."

"Hmm... Delicious and affordable, isn\'t anyone afraid of eating something problematic?"

Hearing this, the respondent looked peculiar and somewhat wary, glancing at Ansel, "Are you an adversary of the Pelican Trading Commerce?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Because that\'s exactly what those guys claim."

An onlooker, arms crossed and visibly annoyed, interjected, "They say the Pelican Trading Commerce\'s food must be problematic, that eating it would surely lead to issues... At first, many believed it, but those who started buying early have been enjoying it for days without a single problem! Now, anyone who still believes such nonsense is a fool!"

He continued, frustrated, "They just want us to eat their inferior food, huh, wishful thinking. I\'d have to be out of my mind to buy their food!"

"So it is..." Ansel remarked, "This vendor\'s death is truly tragic, to die so senselessly."

"Indeed," the onlooker scoffed, "The murderer is really asshole."

"How long had he been selling food here?"

"Ah... It seems about a decade or so, I remember seeing him sell vegetables here since I was a child."

The onlooker\'s tone softened slightly, "He wasn\'t a violent person, though. To not sell a single grain in three days... As pitiable as it is, murder wasn\'t necessary. Besides, isn\'t it his own fault for not being able to produce such crops? Who else is there to blame?"

Many individuals surrounding him began to echo the sentiment, and the cacophony of discussion and clamor swelled, darkening the expressions of some, while others, without uttering a single word, turned on their heels and departed the scene.

They had been casting complex glances at the crime scene just moments before.

Not at the deceased vendor, but rather at the murderer, slumped despondently on the ground.

"Do you know of Old Nor\'s daughter, severely ill and in dire need of funds?" blurted a man with weathered, dark skin, unable to contain himself, "Do you realize what it means for a farmer to not sell a single vegetable or grain for three full days?"

"Does that justify murder?" someone immediately retorted, "Besides, what does this have to do with us? If you can\'t grow crops of the same quality... if all else fails, can\'t you sell through the Pelican Trading Commerce?"

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The man bellowed in rage: "There must be something amiss with their crops; how could it be possible... how could it be possible for them to sell grains so cheaply, of such quality, and yet never run out?"

"Here we go again... You\'re just another adversary of the Pelican Trading Commerce, oh wait, you\'re just a worthless farmer who can\'t sell his own crops, hahaha!"

"What did you say?!"

The conversing individuals began to brawl, and more and more joined the fray, plunging the crowd once again into chaos.

At this moment, in the upper district of Greenridge City, Count Watson stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, easily observing the turmoil in the lower district\'s marketplace through his telescope.

"Excellent..."

Count Watson murmured softly, "Let the refuse that needs to be purged... serve their final purpose."

After an inquiry from that Auberon ,the representative of the guild under Evora, Count Watson became aware that Evora had not yet turned her attention here, but signs of it were emerging.

What Count Watson needed to do now was... to attract Evora\'s gaze by any means necessary.

And what might that method be?

"Not fast enough, not sufficient in quantity... There must be higher production, swifter speed, to make the entire empire aware, only then can it capture Her Highness\'s attention."

The young count licked his lips: "Let me then stoke the flames for you… fortunate ones."

The farmers were some distance from total collapse, but what if... he were to ignite this conflict prematurely?

By inciting hatred on both sides, the farmers of Pelican City, in their rush to crush other ordinary farmers, would increase production madly, destroying the existing grain market at a terrifying pace, obliterating all ordinary farmers.

Count Watson smiled, thinking how easily these mindless beings could be provoked.

A farmer is but a farmer, whether they till ordinary fields or enhanced ones, they are always just farmers.

They all possess but one life... easily plundered, do they not?

At this moment, Count Watson considered himself a genius.

You are truly the epitome of foolishness, Count Watson.

Ansel sighed lightly.

The deliberate exacerbation and forced acceleration of the conflict, with the unmistakable traces of human intervention, were exceedingly crude and unsophisticated.

If I were to take this seriously, it could be considered a direct affront to me, a violation of my demands, and I would be justified in raising my hand to shoot and kill you, Mr. Count, from several kilometers away on the spot.

You should feel fortunate...

Ansel glanced at the miss puppet beside him, who gazed blankly at the brawling, screaming, and cursing crowd, then at the corpse on the stall, and at the fresh blood still dripping drop by drop onto the fresh, plump vegetables.

Seeing her expression, the devil revealed a smile that came from the heart.

You should feel fortunate, for what I desire is precisely this.

The prologue ends, and what follows will be a tempest.

Are you ready, my dear Helen?

*