I, the leader of the esoteric sect, am doing great things in the infinite world!

Nian stroked his chin and peered out in confusion, only to see the sky, burned crimson by flames, and a plume of black smoke rising like a giant pillar.

And also, the place where the flames rose...

—The crude ore reserve center in Chernobog.

There, all the raw ore mined this year is stockpiled, along with some crude ore that has undergone rough processing.

It's unknown how many dangerous materials were detonated together, resulting in such a tremendous explosion.

“W is there,” Talulah said. “I’ve tried my best to keep her in check, but… war and change are not dinner parties; gentle reforms won’t work.”

The doctor nodded noncommittally. He stood on the high platform and looked down at everything in the distance. He heard the piercing sound of sirens wailing from somewhere, and the noisy running and shouting headed towards the place where the flames were rising.

The noise in the mine was like the ocean tide.

Countless people looked up blankly, exchanging bewildered glances as they stared at the distant firelight, pointing and whispering.

No matter how radical the propaganda of the group at the Twelfth Mine was, no one ever imagined that someone would deliberately trigger this explosion to announce the arrival of war.

As the hot wind, filled with the stench of burning and ashes, blew in from the darkness, countless snowflakes fluttered down, turning into rain in mid-air and sprinkling onto the hem of the Doctor's and Talulah's clothes.

The doctor took out his pocket watch, flipped open the cover with his thumb, and glanced at the dial.

"it's time."

Many surrounding buildings cracked and collapsed in the spreading foehn winds, while shouts and roars began to resound.

Beneath the burning, collapsed building, a dozen people were dragged out by members of the Reunion Movement and pinned to the ground. Most of them reeked of alcohol, while the few who were sober could only stare in terror at their surroundings. The flames and blades flashed with a chaotic light, rendering them speechless.

"Wow, this thing is really heavy."

Completely intoxicated, Grizzly Bear Abraham was dragged out of the two-story building by several Reunion members. They inevitably stumbled along the way, but the Grizzly Bear, drunk on strong liquor, showed no reaction at all, as if he had passed out drunk.

"Ha, what's this?" His face, contorted with excitement beneath the broken bone mask, kicked the grizzly bear in the back. "This old bear really got off easy."

He drew his weapon from his waist and with one stroke severed Abraham's head, the scalding blood spurting onto the snow, turning the white snow into crimson slush.

For Abraham the grizzly bear, who was addicted to strong liquor, this way of dying was painless.

He didn't even struggle at all.

"Spare your life! Spare your life!"

The manager, who had been forced to the ground, finally broke down. He frantically shouted and kowtowed repeatedly, and soon a crater appeared in the snow.

"I've never oppressed you! I'm new here!"

"What's this?" someone in the Reunion Movement chuckled, pointing at the supervisor through gritted teeth. "You guys don't believe his nonsense, do you?"

He looked around at the numb miners amidst the wind, snow, and flames, and shouted, "Don't you harbor even a trace of resentment?"

The miners' eyes no longer seemed like frozen ice.

"Today, let those with grievances settle their scores, and those with grudges settle theirs." The member of the Reunion Movement seemed to have poured his emotions into the discussion, raising the knife in his hand. "Why should we be oppressed to death by the lords? Why should we be discriminated against by others? Why can these people eat our flesh and drink our blood with a clear conscience!"

He beheaded the supervisor who was kowtowing and begging for mercy with one stroke, and the blood sprayed onto the snow, like a painting.

Blood splattered on the miners' faces, and their eyes seemed to burn with fire.

Talulah raised her hand.

Everyone was watching her, watching her slowly clench her palms into fists.

"Integration Movement, All March Forward."

The banner of the Reunion Movement fluttered in the cold wind.

"I'm just popping in to say hi," Li Lin suddenly said, standing next to Miss Nian.

He hasn't shown his face in this chapter yet.

38. Chernobog in Chaos

The boundary between the city and the mining wilderness took on a different color.

It's like the ocean tide.

Black and red tides surged across the land, their edges invisible, the undulating waves spreading with the flow of people.

When individuals come together, countless tiny drops of water converge to form a vast and magnificent ocean.

The wide viaduct, which used to be able to accommodate dozens of cars, was now completely congested with the surging crowds.

The shouts from the crowd echoed like the tides, reverberating endlessly through the empty city.

As the dense crowds flowed down the street and through the forest of buildings, the pale faces of those who had worked all night looked down in bewilderment and indifference.

Unable to understand, yet indifferent.

After glancing at it only twice, they turned back and threw themselves into their seemingly endless work.

Even though the workload is increasing rapidly, everyone seems busier than ever, as if they are determined to fight to the death with these tasks.

They worked even harder.

They were even more eager to showcase their talents—only in this way could they avoid being confined to the cold world outside the window.

Compared to the work in front of me, everything outside the window seemed as distant as another world.

For them, the wages from their jobs are not high, and after being squeezed by the tax law, they are left with just enough money to fill their stomachs.

But what about compared to the bankrupt people on the streets? What about compared to those stripped of their titles and living a life of debauchery? What about compared to the people in factories risking their lives handling mineral products? What about compared to the infected living a life worse than death in the mines?

Whenever they caught a glimpse of the soldiers and police of Chernobog dragging an infected person away from the road and beating them to death, a look of joy and relief would flash in their eyes.

They seemed to feel that their own status was so noble, and they tasted the joy of victory from those untouchables.

However, the protests and commotion downstairs only intensified.

At first, it might have just been a few people holding signs, shouting angrily in the street, in front of the courthouse, or in front of the military and police veterans' home. But later, pedestrians gathered around.

As more and more people joined, the scale began to grow and expand again and again.

In the end, this sudden protest had grown to a scale that made every one of the behind-the-scenes promoters hesitate and feel shocked.

Ambitions are rising rapidly, but whose ambitions are being exploited?

Homeless people, laid-off workers, tattooed gang members reeking of cheap alcohol, even hormone-fueled young students, and veterans who had fought in wars...

Every face in the crowd was filled with righteous indignation, throwing themselves into this massive protest and march.

Every relocation of a city is fraught with unrest, especially in Ursus, because it signifies a reshuffling of power: minor officials fall from grace, while the lucky rise to power. The ruling class throws out scraps, which the lower classes use to vent their insatiable greed.

The Ursus Empire has fought countless wars since the time of the late emperor. Some people have received honors, some have been ruined by the reshuffling and infighting, and many more have nothing from the very beginning.

They hoped the war would bring them a bright and promising future, but it didn't.

With the late emperor gone and the war over, Ursus began to lick its wounds.

Without bread or strong liquor, all that remains are wounds and illnesses. If one is unfortunate enough to contract Oripathy, then one can only prepare to spend the rest of one's life in the mines.

"Bread! Bread! We want bread!"

"We need to work, we need to live!"

"The honor of veterans must not be desecrated!"

"Long live His Majesty the Emperor!"

"May the traitor be punished by Heaven!"

At the very front of the crowd, the excited leader was pumping his fist and shouting, his face flushed as if he were drunk. With each roar, a wave of echoing voices resounded behind him, like towering waves.

Everyone was filled with intense anger and a strong sense of justice, shouting and protesting at the towering buildings and the cold world before them.

......

"They are serious."

Standing at the window of Azazel's clinic, the old man made this conclusion, judging the turbid current before him: "Someone is manipulating them, exploiting their emotions, gathering aimless crowds together like a river."

But that was not a river; their numbers were as numerous as the sands of the sea, and their anger was like a raging fire.

The director of the Azazel Clinic, former Ursus General Herag, did not say this aloud.

“These people may look respectable, but their anger is being manipulated. This land has never lacked politicians who play with people’s hearts.” He gazed at the gradually gathering crowd, gripping the knife at his waist. “We should prepare to leave.”

As the only clinic for infected individuals in Chernobog, the Azazel Clinic is of paramount importance to both official and non-governmental organizations supporting infected individuals.

Even though the Azazel Clinic under Hrag's leadership always maintained a neutral stance, any attitude could lead to a shift in the political climate.

......

A series of whistling sounds came from the sky.

Those are drones used by the Chernobog military and police.

A plane adorned with the Ursus logo—a black background with a white star and a double-headed eagle—hovered high in the sky, overlooking the earth amidst the piercing sirens.

On the main road leading to the upper city, fully armed Ursus police officers, holding shields and riot batons, coldly stared at the faces that were still shouting.

The yellow lines they set up acted like dams, blocking the surging, turbid current.

Even if someone accidentally crosses the yellow line, they will be quickly dispersed by Ursus police officers and then run away screaming under the barrage of batons and high-pressure water cannons.

A shout in Ursus language came from the aircraft's loudspeaker.