The train let out a deep, drawn-out wail as it slowly approached from the distant horizon.
At every stop, Kork’s telegraph operators, like finely wound clockwork, immediately set to work sorting the incoming telegraph signals.
As the train slowly pulled into the station, they would hurriedly send out uniform replies and meticulously organize all kinds of information into categories.
“On the night of August 4th, the Mobis City guard and police department engaged in a fierce gun battle with a gang attempting to seize the Borland Gun Factory. According to post-incident statistics, the guard suffered 44 fatalities, the police department 27. Additionally, 16 individuals escaped amidst the chaos, and 13 were injured.”
“The gang’s death toll is currently unknown. The Borland Gun Factory has been successfully occupied by the gang.”
Kork’s brows were furrowed tightly, one hand pressing hard against his head.
The violent jolting of the train, combined with the constant stream of bad news along the way, caused the veins on his forehead to bulge and pulse like writhing earthworms. The anger on his face was unmistakable, as if it could ignite everything around him.
“Tch… these useless bastards. I’ve said it before, we need a Viscount stationed in every city. Causing such a huge mess right before I even take office—it’s giving me a splitting headache.”
“Give the order to the guard and police department immediately: keep the Borland Gun Factory under strict surveillance. Not even a fly gets in! Also, tell all the guard commanders to listen up—tighten the net around all the main entrances and exits in Mobis City, and don’t let any suspicious person slip through.”
“What? Not enough manpower? Not enough? Figure it out yourself! If it were me, I’d have wiped out those scumbags in one fell swoop long ago. No way I’d let them get so cocky!”
Kork’s spittle sprayed across the telegraph operator’s forehead like a rainstorm.
Being one of Kork’s subordinates was truly a trial by fire.
But even so, no one would defy him, and no one would quit. After all, Kork was a Transmigrator and a Marquis personally appointed by His Majesty.
Not only was he powerful, backed by the abundant resources of two cities, but he also commanded a private army of nearly ten thousand men.
To be on the safe side, Kork had chartered the entire train departing from the Imperial Capital.
Aside from the necessary staff in a few compartments, the train carried only Kork’s private soldiers and a few accompanying officials from the Imperial Capital—more precisely, they were there to monitor Kork’s every move.
This was perhaps the royal family’s last-ditch effort.
Of the two sent, the highest rank was merely a Viscount, whose strength was easily suppressed by Kork, leaving him fuming in the adjacent carriage, cursing Kork’s sinister intentions.
As for the other, a Baron, he had already secretly pledged allegiance to Kork. After all, who didn’t know that Kork was one of the rising stars of the realm? Following him promised boundless opportunities.
“Insensible” Kork.
That was the moniker given to him by the outside world, but he paid it no mind, still referring to himself as “Confident” Kork.
He approached everything with a sense of confidence, a confidence bordering on blind arrogance.
Incredibly unbelievable things always seemed to happen around him, and his blind confidence would almost always prove justified.
This was his fifth year in this world. He had already amassed a great army and held immense power.
All his subordinates had also become blindly confident, as if simply following him would lead to meteoric success, as if Kork himself was destined to become the next emperor.
Kork took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
“Surely there’s someone capable among those guys, right?”
“Of course… Can’t this train go any faster?”
…
Even though Mobis City didn’t have any news about last night’s explosion in the papers, most people knew it was the aftermath of the previous shootout.
“First a shootout, now an explosion… This city’s no safer than any other now!”
Many who had been clinging to hope and staying in Mobis City suddenly started buzzing around like ants on a hot pan, rushing towards the already overcrowded trains. However, due to Kork’s orders, trains were not allowed to stop at Mobis City station.
Consequently, many people went to the nearby government affairs hall to condemn Mobis City’s cold-heartedness, accusing them of being accomplices to murder.
Pedestrians took to the streets to protest. Many factory workers, fearing for their safety, went on strike, and some even joined the protests.
The company owners who had been exploiting them had long since secretly found escape routes and fled with most of their assets.
Most of the police force had been reassigned to block off intersections, leaving insufficient manpower to handle the strikes and protests, let alone the surge in robberies and thefts erupting in Mobis City’s chaos.
Only a small contingent of police officers remained to deal with these thorny issues.
“These damn rioters! They’re completely lawless!”
They raised their guns, shouting down the mobs of refugees that were as disorganized as scattered sand, and then shifted their focus to the striking workers leading the protest march.
“Don’t come any closer, or we’ll shoot!” the police officers warned.
But the workers, clad in coarse clothing, drenched in sweat and black grease, gaunt and exhausted, showed no fear.
They had heard Antina and Demihov’s speeches the day before, and their hearts were still surging with emotion.
The local powers in Mobis City had never treated them as human beings, never spoke up for them, letting those despicable company bosses work them to the bone, toiling for half their lives.
To meet their daily quotas, they worked day and night, losing their hair, their bodies weakening, contracting numerous illnesses. All they could manage was barely keeping their families fed, enduring the torment of sickness alone.
Faced with the crisis in Mobis City, those capitalists thought only of protecting themselves, preferring to cut their losses and flee, leaving behind empty companies and a horde of starving workers.
Either way, it was a dead end. Staying home with nothing to do and no food meant death for their entire families.
So they remembered Antina and Demihov’s words: if they stood up and resisted, maybe things would be different. They gathered together, rallying each other. Everyone understood this clearly.
If they resist, they die. If they don’t, they also die.
Since both paths lead to death, they chose the more hopeful, the more heroic death.
Gathered together, these people were unafraid of guns and artillery, for they had already lost almost everything. They roared and charged forward, attempting to seize the police officers’ firearms.
Then, driven by fear, a police officer pulled the trigger. A bullet tore through a worker’s throat.
Blood flowed down his neck, staining the ground beneath.
For an instant, both sides fell silent, staring intently at the officer who had fired and the fallen worker.
Suddenly, another police officer cursed loudly, realizing the severity of the situation: “You’ve done it now! Run!!”
The police’s gun had made a worker bleed!
They were all murderers! They never valued the workers’ lives!
In an instant, the workers understood the situation.
Anger erupted.
“Brothers! These damned bastards have never treated us like people! In their eyes, we’re nothing but pigs to be slaughtered, chickens waiting for the axe, livestock to be crushed underfoot!”
Vista, squeezed in the middle of the surging crowd, roared with a voice full of rage and hoarseness.
At first, only two or three workers at the front lunged towards the two police officers, like lit fuses carrying their fury.
But Vista’s shout was like a thunderclap exploding through the crowd, instantly igniting the pent-up anger of all the workers.
Except for Antina and another worker who carefully lifted their injured comrade to take him to a shabby private clinic, the rest of the workers, along with Vista, rushed towards the two police officers in big strides.
These two police officers, who usually only threw their weight around thanks to their uniforms, had never faced a group of workers so unafraid of death. Their faces turned pale with fright, their legs went weak, and they turned to run.
But it was too late. The workers engulfed them like a surging tide.
The two officers stood no chance against the onslaught of workers.
Before they could even struggle, they were tackled to the ground by the workers behind them.
The workers quickly snatched their guns. The two police officers were then tightly bound with coarse rope to wooden stakes. Under the scorching sun, sweat soaked their uniforms, but it could not wash away the sins of their past.
After this confrontation, the workers’ morale soared to its peak.
Looking at the pistols they had seized, they saw their capital to resist oppression, their hope to fight for dignity and freedom.
The workers gathered together. After heated discussions, they decided to arm Vista and another worker who had some experience handling guns, giving each a pistol.
With that settled, they continued their march through the streets. Following Vista and Antina’s suggestion, they loudly advocated for a strike, their impassioned voices echoing through the skies of Mobis City.
Inside Brand University Town, the sounds of strikes and protests reverberated, wave after wave, piercing through layers of white mist to reach the ears of students and teachers.
Some newly enrolled students began to waver. Like Vista, they started to doubt the school’s righteousness.
How could these hardworking, dedicated workers be anti-social elements? If they were, then wouldn’t Mobis City be a haven for such people?
That couldn’t be!
Besides, among the protesters were many ordinary housewives who should have been at home tending to their families, yet here they stood in the streets. There were also young children who had not even started school, innocent and pure—how could they be anti-social elements?
Again, that couldn’t be!
Since society wasn’t wrong, the workers weren’t wrong, and the women and children weren’t wrong, then the only thing that could be wrong was the school.
What was wrong was their own deceived minds.
Thinking this, the white mist began to churn in their minds. The seductive whispers coiled around their nerves like venomous snakes, trying to convince them again that the school was right, that all of this was an outside conspiracy.
Some students couldn’t bear it and collapsed unconscious. Others, with stronger wills, relied on their tenacity to leave the campus.
Stepping out of the school, they felt the strange will within their minds gradually fade.
These were the awakened warriors. They rushed to the newspaper offices, loudly exposing how Brand University had used unknown forces to shackle students’ minds, bringing the school’s hidden darkness to light.
Newspaper offices loved this kind of sensational news. They didn’t charge the student a cent, immediately assigning staff to start a massive publicity campaign.
In no time, the scandal surrounding Brand University spread like wildfire, and everyone knew about it.
