I'm really a serious wizard.

Chapter 84 Cognitive Pollution and Speech Begging

"Amber, I've actually been a winter person for a long time."

"Have you seen my blue eyes? They are the frost eyes of a winter person, so exquisite!"

Hey, stop talking nonsense at this time. I don’t want to have no idea where to get paid next month!

The sharp saber gleamed coldly under the warm light, with strands of crimson staining it. Seeing this, Amber Gobert's heart beat wildly and she subconsciously held her breath.

She admitted that Ron might have some special qualities, whether it was the unique way of thinking when they first met each other,
Whether it was the bizarre operation of sending herself and all the gang members to the Sheriff's Department, it made her feel how unfathomable Ron was.

But Amber really didn't expect that even when a man in a dark military uniform cut his neck with a saber, causing blood to flow, Ron could still remain calm and organized without any panic.

Is this still a human being? Isn't he afraid?

He was even laughing. You're going to make me look stupid!
The girl with light blue hair looked at the scene in astonishment. She seemed to be infected by the boy's calmness, so that her trembling body gradually stabilized.

"Good evening, Mr. Harden!"

Ron forced a lively and enthusiastic smile, and looked intently at the middle-aged man who suddenly appeared, or rather, had already been there.

He was wearing a dark blue military uniform that was so dirty that the underlying color couldn't be seen. The style was similar to that of the Kingdom Army, but there were still some differences.

He held a saber in his hand and had a strong smell of gunpowder on his body, but his long dark blue hair and eyes of the same color were very clean, as if they were regularly groomed.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to."

Mr. Harden made an apologetic facial gesture.

"I thought you weren't paying attention to the speech. You know, it's a very sad thing for a soldier who has lost a battle."

"That means our story won't be known to any of our fellow countrymen."

The speaker, dressed as a soldier, put away his saber and politely nodded to Ron to apologize.

"It's okay. I just got here today and I might not be familiar with your speaking style."

Ron just smiled. He didn't mind the fact that there was a flintlock rifle aimed at him under the table.

As the boy finished speaking, he suddenly felt the cylinder between his legs under the table being retracted.

A long flintlock suddenly appeared in Mr. Harden's left hand.

Seeing this scene, Ron's face turned pale, because he realized a serious problem. Even the death threat he had just received did not make him feel so scared.

Because Harden's hands were on the table just now, what was he using to hold the gun?
Ron, realizing this, couldn't even think about it.

Could it be... that this is the cursed object?

Ron, who was familiar with the Stardust Club employee manual, knew that cursed objects were not limited to physical objects, but also referred to objects that could cause harm to ordinary people or were the source of evil and blood.

For example, "Darkness is Leaving Abnormally Quickly 3.0" can be considered a "cursed object".

It vividly shows what it means that only abnormalities can deal with abnormalities.

Mr. Harden's characteristics are even more mysterious and strange, reminding Ron of the "meme virus" in his previous life.

Of course, in the Stardust Club employee handbook, it has another name, "cognitive pollution."

This type of curse has unique channels of transmission, such as.
Only by telling a Winter person that I am also a Winter person can I be considered successfully contaminated and hear the speech.

But what good would that do? No, if I hadn't become one of them in time, I'm afraid my neck would have been cut open.

In the eyes of people who are not infected, my head will inexplicably fall to the ground and eventually become an unsolved case.

At this moment, Ron finally realized that what the tavern owner meant by joining them was not joining the Virgin Association, but joining the Winter People's camp.

This is also in line with the nature of a speech, the ultimate goal of which is to get more people to join.

"Everyone!" "My fellow winter people!"

At this moment, Mr. Harden, who was originally sitting opposite Ron, suddenly stood up. He stepped on the wooden seat with his right foot and raised his arm, immediately attracting the attention of everyone in the pub.

"The Kingdom Financial Union Savings Bank has taken everything from us. They put a price on the air and the land, and made us slaves for generations."

"But this is not enough for them. The wealth of the poor has been plundered by them, and now even the rest of their lives are being arbitrarily controlled by them."

"Do you know how much bread those profiteers cost in the cold winter when food and clothing are scarce?"

"How much?" a curious person among the drinkers asked loudly.

"A full five hundred thousand bronze deer, equivalent to five hundred golden lions!"

Many drinkers were in an uproar.

Mr. Harden's expression was passionate and determined, and deep hatred emerged in his deep blue eyes.

"My compatriots, you simply cannot imagine. The entire Winter County population of three million people froze to death, most of them starved to death, countless city-states became dead places, and the only way to survive was to work for the consortium to build ships and cannons."

"Then you didn't resist?" Ron raised his hand at the table.

"Of course, the Winter People never compromise!" Mr. Harden's voice suddenly rose.

"The Duke of Winter led us to take up arms, but it was too late. We had no food, no warm clothes, and no support. Everyone starved to death."

"Now, I need the help of my fellow winter people. Each person only needs to donate one golden lion."

Before he finished speaking, the drinkers, who were originally deeply moved and sympathetic to the speech, suddenly showed vigilance in their eyes.

"Ah, I'm stewing something at home. I have to go home first."

"Um, my clothes are washed and dried but I haven't put them away yet."

"I, I haven't finished my homework yet!"

In an instant, the originally bustling pub was deserted, all the drinkers fled, leaving only the pub owner standing behind the bar.

But judging from his evasive look, he obviously didn't want to pay the high price of a golden lion.

Although Harden's bad words about the Federal Reserve touched everyone's heart, and the rhythm of his speech was just right, it was a good entertainment.

But recognition is just recognition, there is no way you can pay for it.

Have even the wanderers given up on the future of winter?

The middle-aged man dressed as a soldier was stunned for a moment, and finally sat down dejectedly on the wooden chair. His determined eyes gradually lost focus, and something crystal clear seemed to be brewing inside.

But at this moment, a white hand pushed a shining golden lion in front of him.

Mr. Harden looked up in surprise and saw the young man with warm eyes like spring, full of encouragement and faith.

At this moment, he seemed to see the light.

"Yes, I'm sorry sir. I'm really sorry for treating you like that before. I really couldn't help it."

"I really have no choice. I thought you were sent by the consortium to monitor me."

At this moment, the 1.8-meter-tall man couldn't help but shed tears.

He didn't expect that the first donation he received was from a stranger who later joined Winter.

Ron pulled the corner of his mouth. He thought that such a high-sounding term as "cognitive pollution" would definitely cause a riot.
It turns out that you are here to collect donations, and if you don't get any money, you will even drop little pearls.

Brother, where was your previous status?
(End of this chapter)