Let go of that monster girl!

Never go near Miss Robert, especially when she is not fully awake.

After dinner, the real life of the noble ladies begins.

In the castle's main hall, a long table was covered with a snow-white tablecloth.

Blonde noblewomen, dressed in layers of evening gowns, twirled in the hall, their tall, slender figures casting flowing shadows.

The musicians strummed their instruments, their laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses.

Those golden-blooded horses, so elegant and agile, were always the most dazzling presence at the ball.

Unfortunately, Robert never participated.

Before coming here, she only lived in the basement and heard these lively noises coming from upstairs every night.

Sometimes she also wanted to manage this territory well and prove to her family that she was a normal horse girl.

Replacing those little mice with ant girls, I heard, can reduce mining costs to one-tenth and increase efficiency several times over.

Perhaps her family will forgive her and accept her?

She never received a reply to the letters she sent to her sister, probably because her sister was too busy.

At this moment, Robert casually draped her wrinkled pajamas over her shoulders, and in an open space in what she didn't even know was a room in the castle, she wrapped her arms around the air and danced slowly to a rhythm that only she could hear.

Her dance steps were delicate and earnest, her bare feet making a soft rustling sound on the stone bricks.

The maids nervously formed a semicircle around her, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far, moving with Robert's dance steps.

All the horse maids thought pessimistically:

"Whoever comes, it doesn't matter, the Duchess is going crazy."

A female horse maid came running down the stairs with a piece of paper in her hand.

She stopped at the outer edge of the semicircle, held up the paper, and gestured to the other maids.

All the maids looked at each other, none of them daring to show it to the Duchess who was dancing.

"Give me."

Robert stopped and reached for the paper.

She held up the paper, squinted, and shook it vigorously up and down a few times.

Her expression first relaxed, then became joyful, but immediately turned annoyed.

The maid explained in a low voice:

"These were confiscated by the soldiers from the Rat Girl. They're everywhere now, and all the little rats are running south."

Robert crumpled the paper into a ball and stuffed it into his mouth.

The maid closest to her instinctively reached out to stop her.

Robert instinctively raised his hand.

A scream.

The maid clutched her fractured forearm and took a few steps back, but her lips were tightly pressed together, and she dared not show any sign of pain.

Robert's hand froze in mid-air.

She wanted to apologize, but she saw the looks in the eyes of the maids around her.

A two-horned beast, not a horse girl.

It's a monster.

She is a monster princess living in a cardboard castle.

Miss Robert Grape Carrot, the youngest daughter of her family who was exiled.

Her lazy day ended just like that.

Chapter 108 The Smuggled Rat Girl

In feudal times, lords had almost absolute power over their territories.

This means that the political system in the feudal era was highly personalized, and every aspect of the territory was an extension of the noble lady's personality.

Unfortunately, aristocratic ladies are often not very friendly.

In contrast, the almost paralyzed self-governing commune-style management of the Carrot Clan saved on the extravagant expenses of occasional martial arts tournaments and pilgrimages.

The horse maids only calculate the most basic labor and taxes, so there's no need to worry about the situation where five hundred tons of fluorite were mined this year, and the demand increases to one thousand tons next year.

The Duchess, who sleeps soundly all day, at least ensured the survival of Carrot Territory through her personal combat skills.

Therefore, for a long time, the carrot collar would actually be a place where serfs would escape.

Up until now.

Carrot leads to the southern border, a checkpoint.

Two female horse soldiers stood beside the wooden fence, leaning on their lances. Their leather armor was casual, and their helmets were hanging on the shafts of their lances.

One of them was holding a square flyer in his hand, while the other leaned over to look at it.

The flyer had a map drawn in the center, not very precise, but it was clearly shaped like a carrot collar.

The arrow pointing north points to a group of foxes and ant girls wielding forks and knives, baring their teeth. Each one is drawn as fierce and menacing, with evil flame symbols added to their heads.

The arrow pointing south points to a group of round, cartoonish mouse girls, who are huddled together, surrounded by candy cubes and pretty stones of various colors, each with a smiling expression on its face.

"It's quite cute. Do you think those little mice drew it themselves?"

"I don't know, and I don't know how they printed so many."

The content of the painting is half defamation and half intimidation.

However, the mouse girls with carrot collars distrust foxes and hate ant girls, so they naturally prefer to go to a place where all the mouse girls are banded together.

After all, that strange mining track is located on the southern border of Carrot Territory, and the curious mouse girls don't need to travel far to bring back news:

"The villages to the south are also distributing food, and they don't even have to attend Mass!"

The two female soldiers looked up at the road ahead.

A pile of wooden crates and sacks of varying sizes sat behind a bush. A thin mouse tail was sticking out from the back of one of the crates, being stuffed into it by a tiny hand that was sticking out from another crate.

Two round mouse ears protruded from the top of a burlap sack next to them, nervously facing their direction.

The two female soldiers looked down at the leaflets in their hands for a while longer.

Raise your head.

The boxes and sacks moved forward a short distance, their tails and ears all retracting.

The two female soldiers silently turned away, pretending not to see, and rested their rifles on their shoulders.

"Aren't we going to do anything about them?"

"If the higher-ups don't care, why should we?"

A small head with round ears quickly peeked out from the top of the burlap sack, glanced in the direction of the guard, then immediately shrank back in and tilted towards the box next to it that was painted with oranges.

"They didn't notice our 'Zhiwa'."

"Keep your voice down."

"Hurry up and go."

The boxes and sacks all sprouted short legs and tumbled southward.

A box with a mushroom pattern on its top veered off course, and the mouse girl behind it reached out and tugged at its tail, causing it to quickly turn back and catch up with the group.

The little creatures struggled to move along the gravel path on the hillside. The boxes swayed and the sacks spun around. Occasionally, one of them would trip and fall to the ground, and the boxes next to it would quickly crouch down to disguise themselves before continuing their journey together.

The moment they crossed the hill, all the mouse girls threw off their disguises. The wooden boxes and sacks rolled into a pile at the top of the hill, revealing the little mouse girls inside. Then they ran off to the village at the foot of the hill.

At the foot of the mountain, the dwarf mountain mouse girls responsible for the reception were already waiting at the village entrance, holding neatly folded new clothes in their hands.

The refugee rat girls rushed over, and one of them took a light red worker rat coat, grabbed the collar with her two little hands, and tried to pull it over her head.

The first time I wore it, I didn't quite figure out the technique. I fluttered around for a while before two round ears finally peeked out from the neckline.

Before long, several more "short mountain blacksmith rats" dressed in workers' clothes appeared around the campfire.

They sat together, each mouse with a spoon and a wooden bowl filled with nutritious porridge, munching away with gusto.

"I'm so full."

"This paste doesn't taste as bad as they said."

"When you're hungry, anything tastes good."

"Thank you, may I have some more?"

The foreman rat picked up the big iron ladle, scooped a full spoonful of paste from the pot and poured it into the extended wooden bowl, then reached into the next extended small wooden bowl.

Carrot Ridge is forty kilometers away from the low mountain. With the little mouse girl's short legs, it would take more than two days to walk there. Many mouse girls have never left the village in their entire lives, let alone walked that far.

The escaped mouse girl, holding the bowl, asked timidly:

"Um, when are we leaving for Aishan?"

"No rush, there's the Rat Girl Train, no need to walk."

"Rat Girl Train?"

"You'll see it soon."

This small village used to be a settlement of ratwomen in the northern part of Glowstone Territory, but now it has become an outpost of Dwarf Mountain. Simple wooden stake fences and sandbag bunkers have been erected, and several acid trains are parked on both sides of the village entrance, with their nozzles pointing into the darkness to the north.

Militia rats wearing leather armor patrolled outside the fence carrying fluorite lanterns, each carrying a bronze spear taller than themselves.

In the darkness of the distance, the rhythmic sound of iron wheels grinding against the mine tracks could be heard.

The headlights of the Mouse Girl Train shone from the darkness, and the pale yellow fluorite light illuminated the two rails. The carriages slowly approached and came to a stop beside the earthen platform at the entrance of the village.

The dwarf mountain mouse girls jumped off the train and began unloading. Canister after can of fungal bombs were unloaded and stacked on the platform, each can with a red warning sticker on it.

In the center of the village, Morren sat on a blanket outside his tent, a hand-drawn map spread out at his feet, its corners weighed down with stones.

Several foreman rats sat beside him. One of them glanced at the escaped rat girl boarding the rat girl train and asked somewhat uneasily:

"Your Excellency, is it alright for us to call on the rat girls in the north to flee?"

"Of course there's a problem."

Molen, without any moral qualms, answered without even looking up.

Free citizens could move freely, but serfs who escaped their masters were guilty of a serious crime and, if caught, would be whipped to death.

very scary.

Molen, who had covered for the victim, was found to have to pay three times the amount in compensation.

This doesn't seem scary at all.

"Don't worry, since no one cares when all the rat girls are dead, and now that the ant girls have taken over the mining, I'm afraid only the Order cares whether the rats have been driven to the north or the south."

"And soon, the Order will be too busy to care where the Rat Girl is."

Molen picked up a can of fungal bombs and gave a meaningful smile.

Chapter 109 Extinction of the Ant Girl

a few days later.

A line of ant girls walked down the slope at the entrance of the mine, their round little faces were very cute, and their two thin antennae on their heads swayed gently with each step.

Another group of ant girls emerged from the depths of the mine, each carrying a fluorite ore block larger than themselves on their backs, and walked steadily towards the outside.

As the ant girl walked out, she saw her companions coming towards her and happily waved with her little hand.

Hey, good evening!

The ant girl who was walking inwards also raised her little hand and waved to her companion.

Hey, good evening!

But they weren't raising their own hands.