Today, they too are going to their deaths.

Early morning, inside a cheap hotel.

People who had slept on the ropes for half the night gradually woke up, yawning as they straightened their aching bodies, ready for a long day's work.

They vaguely remembered a loud bang last night, but they were too tired to think about what had happened.

But before they hurriedly left, they noticed the hall was packed with people. People were pushing and shoving, arguing, seemingly surrounding a few respectable-looking men reading newspapers and discussing what had happened the night before.

Newspapers are good things; they contain news, job postings, and more. But even though newspaper prices have plummeted several times, poor people like them still choose to read a newspaper together as a group, though they don't usually feel this urgency.

What exactly happened last night? They couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity and wanted to go over and listen.

"The Hargeves machine shop has been bombed! The guys working there are in big trouble!"

A middle-aged man, his clothes covered in dirt, frowned.

"What a mess! Look, Prince Charlemagne is praising the workers for their important role in this operation to crack down on cultists, and he has said that he will cover all the costs of rebuilding the factory and the special unemployment benefits during this period."

The priest, holding a newspaper, pointed to the portrait of Prince Charlemagne and refuted the middle-aged man's words with a mixture of annoyance and pride.

"Prince Charlemagne is such a good man. If... oh, I mean Her Majesty the Queen were immortal, may her reign last another hundred years."

A man in overalls had a hint of joy on his face; he appeared to be a worker at the factory.

But the middle-aged man didn't like this joy. He immediately retorted, "If he were truly a good person, he wouldn't have supported the Farmland Law in the first place! And what kind of cult could be so powerful as to clash with secret agents in the city? I think this is just a political struggle!"

"These old nobles are good at putting on an act. They think that by crying a few times and throwing some money, they can get away with the money they stole from our pockets and the people they killed. They can shift all the blame onto the dead."

The priest immediately blushed and retorted, "What are you saying! Can't stand to see the kingdom doing well?!"

The middle-aged man sneered: "I not only can't stand this kind of aristocratic pretentiousness, but I also can't stand certain policies that claim to be for the good of the workers."

"I heard that yesterday afternoon you were praising the union and Baron Lawrence for his benevolence. Do you even understand what it means for nobles to set rules and expect us to follow them? It's simply a way to create a few jobs for noble lackeys and force the workers into infighting!"

The priest realized what was happening and immediately retorted angrily, "Clearly, you traitor, you've realized you can no longer use sweet talk to get others to elect you as their representative, and now you're getting angry and embarrassed!"

"Then tell me, what's wrong with it? And what good solution can you come up with?"

"Do you want to get trampled to death by the mounted police?!"

From the crowded people nearby, someone immediately reached out and patted the two on the shoulder, trying to soothe them: "Don't be angry, you're still reading the newspaper! Father Adrian, could you please explain the 'Mask Law' and the 'Universal Education Law' again?"

The middle-aged foreman said angrily, "Those two aren't even regulations. They were just something hastily put forward to deal with our protest. They can withdraw these two sets of statements at any time. And that evening class system is just an attempt to swindle the last bit of money from us with lies."

"We must continue marching, continue resisting!"

The priest angrily rebuked him, "Shut up, you fool who disrespects the law and honors noble blood!"

The middle-aged foreman clenched his fists, his eyes wide, and defied the pulls of the others, taking several steps forward until he was in front of the priest. He roared, "Want to fight? You 'clever dog' who only knows how to copy books and chant scriptures!"

"Listen up, everyone! It's because of these lackeys who desperately fawn over the nobles that you're living such miserable lives."

Those around him who were having a hard time all turned their heads and glared at the priest with fierce eyes.

They have tried their best, but everything around them is still getting worse. There has to be a reason for this, and once there is a reason, they should take action.

A fierce glint flashed in the priest's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, he couldn't conveniently use his snake magic, but if the foreman dared to show even the slightest weakness, he would use his snake magic to pull off his belt and let him know what the majesty of an extraordinary being was.

No, he didn't even need to lift a finger. Anyone who dared to show off like that would definitely be targeted by others.

A hand reached through the dense crowd and gently rested on the middle-aged foreman's shoulder, followed by a deep voice: "Hello, could you please explain your theory to me in more detail in a quieter place?"

The once noisy hotel suddenly fell silent, and all eyes were drawn to the tall man dressed in hunting attire.

They didn't know who he was, but everyone could sense his "nobility" and "power" that were so out of place with them. He was as conspicuous as a dragon trying to crouch among a flock of sheep.

The foreman stopped talking. He dared not press the man as he had with the priest. Instead, he tried to avoid the man's gaze and arm. But his survival instinct kept warning him not to do anything foolish like disobeying the man's orders.

This feeling was almost tearing his head apart, and it was this feeling that reminded him of the strange events that followed yesterday's protest march.

He remembered a worker stopping the mechanical horse, saving them, and explaining a lot of things, but he couldn't remember them clearly, only vaguely recalling a few sentences.

"The body is the furnace, the heart is the flame."

Powerful words swirled in the foreman's mind, igniting everything he had accumulated in his past life. The overflowing spirituality dispelled his instinctive fear, making his reason clearer.

The foreman waved to the tense crowd around him, indicating that it was nothing to worry about.

Then, he raised his head and responded to Cui Xun's invitation with his best spirit: "Of course! I just thought about it, and my idea is very rough and far from perfect, so it's not suitable for dissemination."

"I really should talk to people more, get rid of the unnecessary anger, and add something more practical."

After saying that, the foreman followed Cui Xun and left the hotel.

The remaining people looked at each other, some still harboring suspicions: "Shouldn't we go help Mr. Menov? He seems to be being threatened."

No sooner had he said this than someone suddenly looked up and retorted, "Impossible! I know that gentleman. He lent me a silver coin the night before last, telling me to look for a good job. He's definitely a truly good person."

"They must have really gone to discuss and research."