Beating Instances through Words Left by the Dead

It’s already good that they haven’t resorted to violence, helping would be like turning oneself in, right?

Relying on the perception of his mechanical life, he vaguely sensed a third person appearing in the mist, that guy must have been tailing the motorcycle man along the way.

May fortune be with you, unlucky soul.

Just as the Jack of All Trades was about to leave, he felt the third person stop, then quickly move toward him.

He was just about to flee when he saw a serrated machete emerge from the mist and slash at his shoulder.

He watched the Black Robe charging out of the mist, his face full of confusion and anger, why him?

The Black Robe seemed to sense his dissatisfaction and said in a coarse voice, "Found a higher quality prey."

Dozens of meters away, Booker was anxiously starting his motorcycle.

He was tracing leads on last night’s suicide bomber, making his way to the south shore of Hills River, only to encounter this situation.

He had to get back to the Secret Security Department as quickly as possible, if he could, he didn’t want to linger outside a moment longer.

The motorcycle suddenly stalled, filling his heart with unease, this was no ordinary motorcycle, but rather his skills, the skills suddenly having problems, could it mean he’s already being watched?

He kept injecting energy into the motorcycle, trying to get it to run.

Once, twice, three times, the motorcycle started again!

He twisted the throttle full open, sprinting out at the fastest speed.

It seemed the one tailing him couldn’t catch up, truly fortunate.

The world is about balance, there’s the lucky, and naturally, there’s the unlucky.

A few minutes later, the Black Robe stuffed the body of the Jack of All Trades into his loose black robe, disappearing into the thick fog.

An hour later, the Secret Ceremony Master issued orders to several players:

"The pawn at Sloan Cloth Factory is dead, but there’s no news from the Jack of All Trades’ side, he likely has a problem too, what a pity, I did have some admiration for him."

"You must act immediately, before the fog clears, eliminate all targets related to the Soul Weaving Machine line, leave no one alive."

That night, more than ten large textile factory owners died in restrooms, reportedly of acute malaria, a rather miserable death.

Early the next morning, Wu Chang True Self entered the Bright Lamp Newspaper Office with documents compiled overnight in Raventon.

Connor likely received information through some channel, learning in advance that the Secret Police locked down Sloan Textile Factory, guessed it was Wu Chang’s doing, and waited early at the office.

Wu Chang placed the intel on Connor’s desk, sat back in his chair, quietly waiting for Connor to go through the information.

Connor’s eyes were first filled with surprise, then turned to shock, and finally his expression became completely gloomy, leaving only anger.

He gently placed the intel on the windowsill beside him, then punched down hard, collapsing half of the already fragile desk.

"These blood-sucking bastards, how dare they!"

Wu Chang made no comment on this, just waited for Connor to cool down.

A few minutes later, Connor emerged from his fury, retrieved the intel from the windowsill, looked through it twice, then said:

"Can I really publish this content?"

In order to gain Connor’s trust, Wu Chang was daring enough to include everything, including the existence of the Soul Weaving Machine, and its capability to force workers to toil without rest, till they literally worked themselves to death.

Even Connor, when faced with such explosive news, instinctively felt intimidated.

Wu Chang shrugged, saying: "I’m only responsible for delivering the intel you wanted, as for how to publish it, and to what extent, you’re the professional."

"But you must know one thing, our transaction is very straightforward, you provide clues, we return with the truth, nothing more."

"If trouble arises due to the scale of publication, and the Secret Police surround the Bright Lamp Report, we will not acknowledge any connection with you."

Connor glanced at the intel in his hand, then said after a moment: "Understood, regarding the article, we’ll carefully deliberate."

"Your efficiency is swift, and the intel you provide far exceeds our expectations, if possible, we’d like to establish a long-term cooperative relationship with you."

Wu Chang stood up, smiling as he said: "That’s exactly what we’re hoping for."

A day later, a report on the abnormal deaths of textile workers in the South Shore Textile District along Hills River appeared in the Bright Lamp Report.

To avoid attracting the Secret Police, Connor and the others edited the intel, not mentioning the Soul Weaving Machine, instead attributing it to some special drug as a substitute.

Claiming that the Sloan Textile Factory and several textile factories utilized this drug to extend textile workers’ working hours, blatantly disregarding the workers’ lives, severely depleting the workers’ health.

This led to frequent sudden deaths among workers, and made them more susceptible to malaria, leading to untimely deaths.

Though the truth presented in the news had been greatly toned down from reality, it still sparked worker protests across multiple cities in Stilan.

In Grimland, where the incident occurred, the worker protests were particularly intense.

Compared to the Pine Tree Coal Mine explosion case, the Sloan Textile Factory incident wasn’t as immediately catastrophic with hundreds of deaths, yet the deeper issues it reflected were far worse.

It highlighted the factory owners’ use of improper methods, deliberately exhausting workers’ lives to gain extra profits for themselves.

The editor-in-chief of the Bright Lamp Report, Henry, even wrote in the subtitle, "This isn’t merely exploitation and oppression, but naked murder!"

The same afternoon the news was published, workers in Grimland organized a massive strike.

Banners like "Pay attention to workers’ working environment" and "Workers’ lives are also lives" appeared in various protests.

Facing overwhelming public opinion, Acting Prime Minister Glad appeared to be at his wit’s end.

He wasn’t as iron-willed as Prime Minister Ron, initially he tried to suppress with force, but when he found that this time the force not only failed but also intensified the conflict, escalating the strike, he dared not continue.

With the failure of force suppression, he could only play another card to divert the workers’ attention, so as to temporarily calm the storm.

The card he played was named the "Grain Law Repeal Agreement."