Today, they too are going to their deaths.

When Cui Xun opened his eyes again, it was already completely bright, and there were more and more people on the streets. People began to sweep the snow, revealing the roads again.

Cui Xunben was preparing to remove his mask, change into a repairman's uniform, and infiltrate the factory with a ladder and toolbox.

As everyone knows, repairmen can appear anywhere, making them ideal for open and aboveboard infiltration. Cui Xun believes this common sense applies to different eras and otherworldly realms as well.

But just as he used the funds Gray had given him to buy all the equipment and headed to the factory area, he encountered a major incident.

Groups of workers marched along the street, holding signs made of wooden planks. The shouts of dozens or hundreds of people at the same time created a vast wave of sound.

"Protect workers' rights," "Machines replacing humans is against nature," "We need to work"...

Dignified words, powerful words, crooked words, trembling words—these words, imbued with the voices of the unemployed, were waved amidst their shouts.

Besides the signs, there were hammers and iron bars, but no one was waving them.

Those tools, carried on shoulders, clutched in hands, and hanging at their sides, were like a silent declaration: We are workers, we only ask for work, but we also have weapons, our tools are our weapons.

Cui Xun glanced at the group and estimated that there were about 300 people in the team, but the number of people in the team was still increasing.

Poor and sickly people came in droves from houses along the street, from alleyways, and from even further afield to join the ranks.

He also blended into the fringes of the group.

Because of his appearance, no one noticed him. In fact, the protesters didn't care who the people around them were. Their slogans were loud but scattered.

"We need to eat," "Give me back my job," "Protect workers' rights"—these slogans rise and fall, only to be followed by another person starting a new one and gaining the support of those around them.

But at their core, they all share the same desire—to survive.

Some windows along the street were open, some were closed. Some people were hoping that this team would really succeed, and some even wanted to join in, while others did not want to be associated with the team.

The person behind the window was whispering, and the sounds came from various sources, including concern, curiosity, indifference, fear, and impatience.

Some shops along the street immediately pushed their heavy goods towards the door upon seeing the procession, as if afraid of being robbed; others were prepared and simply locked their doors, not letting anything out; but a few shop owners stood at their doors, arms crossed, watching the spectacle.

As the group turned a corner, Cui Xun saw the police.

There were about twenty patrol officers, each holding a shield in one hand and an iron bar in the other. Some of them even had helmets that they had borrowed from somewhere on their heads. They lined up in two rows, completely blocking the road.

They may usually put on a fierce front, but at this moment, they are at a loss, their eyes shifting between the protesters and their companions.

Such a scene is not common, and even their superiors are not much better off in this situation.

The officer shouted orders, but his voice would dissipate instantly when it collided with the protesters' shouts. In the end, instead of boosting morale, it greatly dampened the morale of the patrol officers.

But the police ultimately represent order.

Under the loud commands of several worker representatives, the protesters stopped in front of the police.

The two sides faced each other less than twenty meters apart.

The police remained silent, and so did the protesters.

The streets fell silent, save for the sound of the wind and the strange hoofbeats coming from afar.

Cui Xun turned his head and saw a mounted police unit.

They wore straight swords at their waists, held reins in one hand and revolvers in the other, and looked down at the workers from their elevated position.

They rode mechanical horses made entirely of metal, with visible pistons, levers, and even billowing steam.

Cui Xun noticed that the workers' expressions had changed.

Just now, when they faced the patrol officers, their faces showed anger, dissatisfaction, and grievance, but now, facing these mechanical horses, their expressions have been replaced by fear and hostility.

Some people instinctively took a step back, some straightened their chests, trying to force themselves to appear calm so that others would also try to remain fearless, and some gripped their hammers tightly, assuming an attack stance. But rather than fighting, they seemed to be trying to gain courage through the fact that "I can fight."

After all, mounted police really do kill people, and there were reports not long ago of mounted police breaking up protest groups.

But just before the conflict broke out, a carriage bearing the coat of arms of a noble family sped through the street and came to a stop just in front of the two opposing sides.

The car door opened, and Baron Lawrence jumped out.

Whether it was because the locals had a strong ability to heal themselves or because he used some kind of medicine, the injuries on his face had healed, and he exuded a strong sense of confidence and composure because of the guidance he received last night.

He stood between the workers and the police, first raising his hand towards the police to signal them not to move, then turning around to face the workers and saying earnestly, "Gentlemen, please hear me out."

The workers did not respond, nor did they interrupt him; hundreds of eyes were fixed on the famous, newly risen nobleman.

There was suspicion, hostility, and a hint of curiosity in people's eyes.

Baron Lawrence didn't care about that; he simply continued speaking from his prepared remarks: "I am Baron Lawrence, and I think most of you, especially the workers at Hargreaves Textile Mill, know me."

"But I'm not here today to intimidate you into going back to work. I'm here to tell you something. From today onward, I will officially recognize the unions in all the factories under my jurisdiction. The law may not give you that power, but I will listen to you."

A murmur arose from the crowd, which pleased Baron Lawrence; he felt everything was in rhythm.

He generously stated, "As long as the union operates according to the correct rules and regulations, elects representatives, submits written demands, and resolves disputes through negotiation, then I will sit down and talk with the people you have elected."

"Let's talk about wages, working hours, worker safety and health, and everything else you care about."

"Including the education of workers."

The whispers grew louder.

Some people showed expressions of surprise; some frowned, unable to believe it; some turned to whisper to the people next to them...

The whispers among Baron Lawrence subsided slightly, and he offered a second bargaining chip: "There's one more thing. I'm sure you've all heard about the recent murders. Some people are specifically targeting homeless people at night, slitting their throats and selling the bodies to medical schools. Even worse, some are directly murdering advocates for workers."

"The police arrested the man who murdered the worker's representative and, after a thorough investigation, discovered that his employer intended to incite riots and then profit from them."

Baron Lawrence paused for a moment, waiting for the people to process the message before igniting their emotions, then proclaimed in a stirring voice: "This murderer will soon be tried—your public trial!"

"Let us avenge the venerable Thomas Miller! Let us show those who incited the riots that we are not foolish puppets!"

"I will invest 15,000 silver coins, also known as large silver coins, to hire you to build the statue for him and provide all the food and lodging during the process."

The crowd fell completely silent.

They were used to kneeling, and this time the nobles were only slightly more human, so they were amazed and felt that this was enough.

Perhaps the protests can finally end?

Just then, Cui Xun noticed that someone in the protest crowd was gesturing with their hands towards the mechanical horse in the distance, and their lips were moving a few times.

Then, a mechanical horse began to tremble.