Chapter 200 | Reincarnated as a Prince in a Twisted Fairy Tale World

So that is where the face-slapping was!

Although it was not the kind of face-slapping the prince had wanted, it certainly counted as an alternative form of it.

Faust could not help but laugh:

"Is this posture of yours meant to be a prayer?"

"Mmm!"

Helen seemed to realize just how profane her behavior was. Her fair, pretty face flushed bright red, and she stammered:

"Fa... Brother Faust, please do not joke anymore... I just could not help myself."

This nun, Helen, is truly interesting. I say she is praying piously, and she tells me not to set the pace.

Faust: "It is nothing. I am not mocking you. On the contrary, you can truly pray to hone your spiritual resilience during your pilgrimage."

In order to increase his attack speed, the prince would use any excuse imaginable.

However, one dared to say it, and the other dared to believe it. Helen suddenly realized:

"So... that is it. Brother Faust, you are indeed the wise one. Then so be it; I shall prove the purity of my faith through flagellation and asceticism!"

Where is the asceticism in that?! I can see that you cannot even suppress the curve of your lips!

"Glory to my Lord, the Most Holy God..."

The holy and alluring nun raised her face, chanting the clear and solemn Hymn of the Sacred Deity while enduring the punishment of Great Thunder.

In truth, this was not even the most stimulating part. If Helen knew that the Sacred Deity she worshiped was watching her right in front of her, the 【Pilgrim】 path would likely transcend to divinity on the spot and slip into the realm of the 【Saint】.

【Wow, do I actually have a sense of participation here?】

Listening to Helen’s face-to-face hymns, Mephistopheles could not help but sigh:

【Faust, you are actually quite a good person.】

"Not at all. After all, since you only watch from the sidelines every time, I felt a bit embarrassed."

...

After helping Helen with her cultivation on the 【Pilgrim】 path, Faust returned to the evening banquet at the estate.

He had indeed fulfilled his reward; if he said he would whip her until swollen, then it had to be swollen, with absolutely no cutting corners.

However, this meant that Helen could no longer continue to attend the banquet. The group found themselves in this foreign land without a local guide.

This was a bit careless. Although Faust’s reputation had already spread, his social circle had yet to extend to the empire. While it was not a major issue, the prince was still somewhat dissatisfied to see everyone around them keeping their distance.

He had known about this banquet for a long time and had communicated with Yusewood in advance to write the script. If it did not trigger, it would be a huge loss.

Faust walked over to Selena. The beauty of the Midwinter princess was an almost unsolvable killing weapon at such a banquet. Unless one were an occult noble with a deep path rank, one would inevitably be stunned by Snow White’s astonishing beauty.

"Beauty" was her authority to begin with; Selena’s very existence planted the concept of "beauty" into the minds of others before even considering her image.

Given Selena’s personality, she certainly would not show any weakness. She directly occupied the most comfortable chaise longue in the estate’s courtyard, forming a stunning landscape alongside Viviana.

One maiden had black hair and silver eyes, proud and elegant;

The other had golden hair and purple eyes, melancholic and stern;

Seeing just one of them would be a breathtaking, high-mountain flower, beautiful enough to make one gasp, yet now they were together. Their complementary beauty brought an even greater sense of impact.

It was truly a feast for the eyes. Even though Faust had just whipped a charming and alluring nun, seeing this scene still made his heart itch.

"Finished?"

Seeing Faust approach, Selena twitched her delicate nose, sniffing the strange scent lingering on the man, and could not help but smile:

"You really are stealing a moment of leisure amidst the busyness."

Faust did not feel embarrassed in the slightest; instead, he said righteously:

"The fact that we could become guests of honor so easily is all thanks to my maneuvering."

The prince sat down beside the beautiful, long-haired girl and asked:

"By the way, did no one come to strike up a conversation with you?"

He had spent a long time whipping the nun, and yet no one had come to chat during that interval. How could they have restrained themselves?

"If you had not arrived with your arms around us, there would surely have been countless suitors flocking over. But as it stands, those attending the Sanctuary banquet are quite refined, or perhaps, they all have good self-awareness."

Since Faust was the "Brave One" candidate invited by the Sanctuary, naturally, there could be no disrespect.

Did they not see Lady Helen greeting him respectfully with the posture of a subordinate? Anyone who dared to hit on his companions would be tired of living!

"Sigh, I was a bit too idealistic."

Faust sighed, clutching his wrist. Before coming, he had requested Yusewood to continue writing quite a bit of content.

The stories written by the 【Story Compiler】 had two manifestations: one was to transform into a virtual dream, and the other was to overwrite reality.

Usually, Yusewood only did the former, but this time, she followed Faust’s wishes and performed many operations to overwrite reality.

One part of the content was: "The beautiful princess and the prince attend a foreign banquet. Coveting the beauty of the prince’s lover, someone intends to snatch her away, only to be fiercely taught a lesson by the prince."

To continue writing the 【witches' feast】, it had to be dramatic enough; otherwise, it would not be able to convince the wheel of destiny, and likely could not be included in the 【witches' feast】 script.

Therefore, the more cliché the plot, the better—preferably to the point of being toe-curlingly awkward.

But even though Faust had written the plot of showing off his power and slapping faces with full confidence, he encountered a Waterloo the moment he arrived.

Everyone was too cowardly!

This was not how it was supposed to be! What happened to the third-rate villain?! A slick, spoiled young master should have come to hit on Selena or Viviana by now, only to have his legs broken by me.

I have rehearsed such a satisfying plot so many times, why won't they just go for it?!

Feeling depressed, Faust headed toward the self-service table in the corner, wanting to eat something to calm down.

Then, he saw Irithea.

The white-wolf maiden had slipped behind the temporary bar at the end of the self-service table at some point.

The bar was originally staffed by two professional bartenders, but at that moment, the two were squeezed aside, standing by in a daze, watching the beautiful maiden with silver hair reaching her waist and a light-blue vest, shaking two cocktail shakers simultaneously with fluid grace.

The silver-white shakers danced at her fingertips like butterflies, and the liquid inside struck the walls of the shakers, producing a crisp, rhythmic sound.

Her movements were fluid and natural, as if she were not mixing drinks but performing an elegant, spontaneous solo dance. Her long silver-white hair swayed gently with her movements, and a few stray locks clung to her slightly flushed cheeks, making her lake-blue eyes appear even brighter.

Seven or eight people had already gathered in front of the bar.

There were young nobles in magnificent gowns, wealthy young ladies waving folding fans, and even two Sanctuary monastics in their robes.

"Bang—"

The two cocktail shakers landed on the bar at the same time, emitting a crisp sound.

Irithea spun her hands, the lids opening simultaneously, and two liquids of distinct colors were poured into pre-prepared stemmed glasses. One was a deep, dark purple, garnished with a lemon slice as thin as a cicada’s wing; the other was a warm, sunset-hued gradient of orange and red, with a layer of delicate milk foam floating on top.