Sir! Don't close the net!

“As expected of Minister Li Yili, not bad, not bad. Deputy Minister Joey, remember to send some people to keep an eye on the newspaper office,” Josephine, having finished laughing, raised her hand and waved Joey with a smile. “If Austin sends people to smash up the newspaper office, this grand show will have to stop.”

"Don't worry, Minister, I've already had my most trusted subordinates on standby near the newspaper office 24/7," Joey said, patting his chest as a guarantee.

Seeing Joey and Josephine laughing so happily, Alma felt helpless but also understanding. After all, Josephine and the others hadn't been able to have a peaceful time these past few days because of Austin's rumors and attacks. According to Li Yili, they had to prove how many bowls of noodles they ate every day.

“By the way, Secretary Alma, Minister Li Yili certainly won’t stop here, will he? What does he plan to do next?” Josephine looked at Alma expectantly. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“This…” Alma hesitated for a moment before lowering her voice, “Minister Li Yili plans to target the factory that produces masks and potions for Bishop Asawi.”

Joey's expression changed drastically, and he subconsciously turned to look at Josephine, who also suppressed her smile and became serious.

"How does Minister Li Yili plan to begin?"

Although they said things like, "Bishop Azawi, huh? Who's afraid of who?", in reality, they had only been dealing with Austin these past few days and hadn't actually engaged in any formal confrontation with Bishop Azawi, or even made any plans for it. The reason was simple.

Bishop Azavet's experiments have become part of Instas, and the masks and potions have become part of the residents of Instas. Even without masks related to the steel industry, most residents of Instas would still wear masks to work.

Alma recalled the look and expression in Li Yili's eyes when she answered whether she intended to exploit the residents of Instas.

“The processing plant’s equipment is outdated and the materials are of poor quality, which makes the masks and potions less effective than before…” Alma paused, “and the processing plant also plans to sell the masks and potions to other regions.”

Joey gasped, and even Josephine looked surprised.

This move directly hit the residents of Instass in the heart. As the world's largest seaport, Instass has a large flow of people. The residents of Instass have seen many merchants and visitors from different regions. Through the behavior of visitors from other regions, the residents of Instass clearly noticed that they, living on the coast of the Sea of ​​Dead, where there are countless dead people, were not blessed by the temple. In fact, they were the lowly people that the residents of the upper-class areas talked about.

Despite being the world's largest seaport, it was not blessed by the temple. This huge disparity made Instas extremely reliant on masks and potions, even regarding masks as proof of being blessed by the temple and a sign of being of high status.

What they found difficult to attack became Li Yili's most powerful weapon.

Whether it's true or not, as long as people hear that the masks are aging, the potion quality is declining, and the latest masks will be sold to other regions, the residents of Instas will almost certainly go on a rampage and block the processing plant. Who will be executed is really hard to say.

“What a talent…no wonder Black Goat took such good care of him…” Joey muttered to himself.

“That guy Dela Pal has really gone far,” Josephine muttered sourly.

If Li Yili were one of his people, he probably would have kicked Austin out of Instas long ago.

"So, Minister, you mean..." Alma tentatively asked, hoping for the best.

“Of course we’ll do it, why not?” Josephine smiled brightly. “Mr. Austin is quite the celebrity now, let’s make him even more famous. Deputy Minister Joey has been wandering around the factory these past few days, and the employees are getting quite bored working all day. The little bit of gossip in the newspapers isn’t enough to satisfy them.”

“I understand,” Joey nodded immediately, a sinister smile on his face, and quickly left the minister’s office.

Josephine smiled, swiveled her chair, and crossed her legs. Perhaps it was because she had been disgusted by Austin these past few days, but this counterattack made her feel as happy as if she had changed into clean clothes in the morning.

“Alma, you don’t seem very happy,” Josephine said, glancing at Alma who was still standing there. “Is something wrong with you?”

Alma's expression was somewhat stiff.

His eyes flickered before he lowered his head. "I just think it might be a bit too radical to do this. If we really do it, Instas will be completely paralyzed."

"Hmm? Then let's paralyze Instars."

Josephine flicked her nails, tilted her head to the side, and her genuine indifference sent a chill down Alma's spine. Although they meant the same thing, she felt that Li Yili and Josephine were completely different.

------

"Zig, you're back."

"Um--"

Looking at Sieg, who was yawning and looked extremely tired, Bert felt very complicated. Just a short while ago, Sieg had been the one to greet him at home.

Because everyone in Instars has multiple masks, there is no fixed time to leave work. The so-called holidays and working hours are just a joke. Everyone is either trying to avoid becoming a defective product or trying to get rid of the identity of a defective product.

I don't know who said it, but the saying goes that "effort" means wanting to change. As a result, there is a strange atmosphere among the residents of Instas. Whoever gets off work late works even harder. At least on a spiritual level, they are not defective. So they always go home exhausted.

On the surface, it seems that Zig is working harder than him, but in reality, Zig has not brought any benefits to the family, and has even increased the risk of being unable to adapt to the masks of others.

Zig, you're almost an adult. Instas is in a mess right now, so stop thinking about going to the sea. Come to work with me tomorrow, or you'll become a defective product.

After practicing in front of himself in the mirror several times, Bert turned to look at Zieg, who was washing dishes.

"Zig, you—"

"what happened?"

Looking at Zieg's tired but bright eyes, Bert raised his hand and waved, "I'm going out for a bit. Get some rest."

After saying that, Bert walked straight out of the house, turned into a small alley, lowered his head, and looked at the most unfamiliar face he had in the sewage.

Bert raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face.

Chapter Sixty-Two: What comes after no more failures?

Inside the Fire Spirit Steel Mill, McCarthy and Nata were chatting in a cubicle during their break.

"Nata, have you read today's newspaper?"

"The one Austin was with seven men?"

“That…it’s nothing. I was talking about Austin’s essay criticizing the Fire Elf Steelworks for occupying public space,” McCarthy said, shaking his head as he took a drag on his cigarette. “The sales center has taken down notices that haven’t been posted for over ten years. Austin is practically posting them door-to-door.”

McCarthy paused, then shrugged.

"If it's just to clarify that you don't have that kind of interest, then that's fine."

“Austin isn’t stupid. As long as the fire spirit is criticized, does it really matter what his hobbies are?”

Before Nata could finish speaking, the door to the cubicle was pushed open, and Joshua walked in. Nata and McCarthy casually raised their cigarettes; they recognized his face—he was an old friend.

“However, I feel like Austin’s criticism this time is a bit strange,” Nata raised his head. “He said that the Fire Elf Steel Mill, which operates from 8 am to 6 pm with two days off a week and no overtime, is trying to destroy Instas and turn everyone into defective products. What do you think?”

“I don’t quite understand,” Joshua frowned. “It’s true that we used to start work at six and finish at ten, with lunch breaks all year round, but that was to avoid becoming defective and to catch up with the income that a qualified Instas resident should have.”

“Yeah, we’re so tired we don’t have time to think about anything else,” Nata exhaled a smoke ring. “I never even dreamed of having this kind of free time before. Thanks to Fire Elf’s generosity, as long as we work for Fire Elf, we don’t have to work day and night, and we won’t become defective products.”

McCarthy remained silent for a while before asking.

"I mean... what if you don't end up as a defective product?"

Joshua and Nata stood frozen in place.

Yes, what if it doesn't become a defective product?

They had never considered this issue before, because the definition of defective products changes subtly every year. They worked like crazy, and their wages kept rising, but prices were rising at an even more terrifying rate. In the end, their efforts seemed to have...none of any change.

However, they didn't have a chance to think about it because Instars gave them too many opportunities, so many that they could be thrown into the dumping ground of the Maosai district at any time. They didn't know how to blame Instars. Every time they were exhausted and wanted to vent their anger, they would think of the Maosai district and the masks and potions that Instars sold to them at cheap prices, which represented countless opportunities. In the end, they realized that the fault lay with them for not wanting to work hard.

“Um… become one of those bosses,” Joshua said after a moment’s hesitation, “and then I won’t have to work as hard as before? And I’ll have enough sleep and a guaranteed income?”

"Is that really all there is to it..." Nata took out the newspapers from the past few days from his satchel and shook them.

McCarthy and Joshua fell silent.

These past few days, the newspapers have been filled with not only Austin's gossip, but also the extravagant and decadent lifestyles of Austin's close friends. This includes, but is not limited to, Ips of the Indiana Museum spending ten to twenty times the museum's budget on a single piece of jewelry, and exceeding the budget of a museum curator.

Some assets.

These seemingly minor incidents didn't cause a huge uproar like the news about several men in Austin in one night, but everyone saw them, and a strange emotion began to grow in their hearts.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Splashing dirty water! That's a trick even kids don't use in a fight!"

Austin roared angrily at the middle-aged man wiping his sweat in front of him.

Faced with the barrage of spittle, the middle-aged man could only wipe his forehead and soothe Austin, "Mr. Austin, the fact that they have to resort to such despicable means shows that they've run out of options. I've already inquired with the bank. Although their gold reserves are sufficient, they won't last long. Because of the information you spread, Mr. Austin, many residents have already withdrawn their cash from the bank. Soon, all the Fire Spirits will have left are numbers."

Austin's expression softened considerably, and he crossed his arms and snorted coldly, "Of course, what did the Seventh Prince say?"

Rumor attacks are very effective, but he's not stupid. As the largest steel mill in Instars, if the Fire Spirit were so easily brought down, he wouldn't have waited until now to tear off the mask before taking action. At most, the current attacks will only give the Fire Spirit a headache. As long as the Fire Spirit can still function normally, it is absolutely impossible for him to defeat it.

And the most crucial link was actually Yangcun Logistics, which he had initially been too lazy to even glance at. Even more unbelievable was that he was actually going to go all out to break down a small logistics company that had been in India for less than half a month.

In the past, he would probably have taken this as a joke, but now he can't laugh. As long as Sheep Village Logistics is still around, Fire Spirit will have endless work to do and will always be thriving. All of Fire Spirit's raw materials are transported by Sheep Village Logistics.

What kind of perpetual motion machine is this?!

Of course, the cycle of fire sprites and sheep village logistics cannot continue indefinitely, but wearing him down is enough.

So he was determined to thwart Sheep Village Logistics' ongoing underwater amusement park project no matter what!

"Six of them refused outright, but there was one whom the 'Rotten King' didn't reject outright. His meaning was..."

The middle-aged man paused, his expression subtle.

Even though the pirate crew disbanded, Mercury Queen remained his flagship, and he was forever loyal to Emperor Heidi Serra, even going so far as to order her to kill Heidi Serra...

"You'll have to pay more."

Austin's lips twitched. "How much does he want?"

"Fifty percent."

Austin gasped, veins bulging on his forehead. "He's gone mad."

The middle-aged man raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Mr. Austin, I think there are many ways in this world to sabotage Sheep Village Logistics' ongoing projects on the coast. There's no need—"

“Go tell the Corrupt King that I’ll give him 60% and use the biggest force to dismantle Sheep Village Logistics’ projects along the coastline,” Austin said, his eyes flashing with cold light.

The middle-aged man's eyes widened, and he subconsciously wanted to confirm with Austin again, but Austin's cold gaze made him back down.

Instars will face a disaster because of Austin's actions, and countless residents of Instars will suffer enormous losses, but Austin will definitely make a fortune, so Austin did not go crazy, but was even very calm.

"I understand."

Chapter Sixty-Three: Men Only Need to Remember One Thing

New gossip filled the Instas newsstands as the golden horizon where the Sea of ​​Dead Man met the sky lit up. The residents of Instas, whose very DNA seemed to be etched with early rising, marched across the road in orderly steps, like soldiers about to go to battle and receiving their guns. They picked up newspaper after newspaper, tucked them under their arms, and headed toward the Fire Sprite Steelworks.

Sitting on a bench, Abel held a cup of hot tea, his breath steaming in the air. His eyes, a gradient of gold and red, reflected the diverse inhabitants of Instas.

The word "varied" doesn't seem appropriate. Although their body sizes vary greatly, the faces of the Instas residents are almost all the same, like products produced on an assembly line. However, the machines called Instas are very inaccurate and cannot mass-produce identical products. Therefore, they can only make modifications to achieve a result that is "based on the actual product."

However, when everything is based on the actual product, it means that there was no intention to keep the promise from the beginning, and the buyer accepts this result. As a result, the actual product will only deviate more and more from the initial promise, until in the end it becomes completely unrecognizable from the picture except for the name.

And that's exactly what Instars is all about now.

Abel turned his head to look at the sea of ​​dead men that stretched straight to the sky, stood up and made a jumping motion. As a chosen one of the gods, his physical abilities far exceeded those of ordinary people. He could easily jump onto the roof as if he were jumping up a staircase, and when he jumped with all his might, it was like flying.

"Snapped--"

Abel turned his head and glanced behind him. He had only jumped about thirty centimeters. An ordinary person would take a step forward and cover more than that distance. But those thirty centimeters was the distance he jumped with all his might while facing the sea of ​​dead.

He will never be able to fly.

Therefore, he could not reach the so-called sea surface, but could only gaze at the sea wall that stood on the ground like a prison cell. The deep, abyss-like seawater silently warned everyone who approached the shore that if they went any further, they would become part of the abyss.