Chapter 186 Riot
On the day of the memorial service, when citizens rushed to buy the latest issue of "Limin Bao", they were surprised to find that this issue of the newspaper did not publish any reports related to the memorial service. Instead, it was occupied by a long report entitled "The Nameless: A Research Report on the Current Living Conditions of Slaves in Port Morris", which took up a full two-thirds of the page. The article used extremely rigorous and massive data to fully display the miserable living conditions of the slaves.
The average life expectancy was 26 years, the daily mortality rate was 12%, and forced labor exceeded 19 hours per day... There were also young children huddled in iron cages, the bloodied backs of slaves whipped to death, and human-skin handbags made from the skin of young girls—and more importantly, approximately 68% of the so-called "slaves" were former citizens who had been illegally enslaved due to various accidents. Each shocking statistic and each jarring photograph pierced the reader's conscience like a hardened nail.
Adhering to his characteristically dry and poignant writing style and outspoken style, the author unapologetically reveals the existence of the Bloody Bazaar and the illegal slave trade behind it for the first time. It's important to note that the Bloody Bazaar was tacitly acknowledged by the upper classes, but the common people of the rest of the Silver Iris Empire knew little about it. This was their first true insight into this infernal den of blood, flesh, and suffering.
As newspapers passed from hand to hand, floats from the major temples were ready. The auctioneer from the Gold Bazaar smiled and raised his hammer. Lights focused on the auction table, the marble floor gleamed brightly, the clink of heels was melodious, the air was filled with the delicate aroma of perfume, and crystal chandeliers cast dappled, hazy shadows on the faces of the distinguished guests.
Duke Kamu sat in the highest hall, a mask covering his face. A waiter respectfully brought him a glass of Slim Golden Wine. A blond youth knelt meekly at his feet, allowing him to stroke his hair. If someone from the Nameless One were here, they would have recognized him as "Pigeon," the former contact from the Gold Bazaar.
Suddenly someone came up quickly, whispered something in the Duke's ear, and handed him a newspaper.
After reading it, Duke Kamu suddenly snorted coldly and threw the newspaper directly to the ground with a slight snapping sound.
In the silence, "Pigeon" suddenly began to tremble, and drops of sweat slid down the side of his face, fell to the ground, and splashed small water droplets.
Duke Kamu said slowly towards the shadow, "Old friend, it looks like a rat has invaded your territory."
The figure of the Bloody Duke slowly emerged from the shadows in the corner.
"A rat is a rat." His tone was particularly low and cold. "It's a shameful thing that only dares to hide in the dark and stir up trouble."
He contemptuously kicked the blond boy who was kneeling on the ground. The boy staggered, then immediately straightened his body and crawled on the ground trembling, but he didn't even make a sound to beg for mercy - looking closely, he found that his tongue had been cut off.
"But there's someone beside the rat that neither you nor I can afford to offend," Duke Kamu said pointedly. "While all the followers' attention is focused on the city of Barandu, why did that person appear in your territory?"
"My old friend, who can fathom the mind of a god?"
The Bloody Duke calmly dealt with the challenge from the Speaker of the Royal Court Council. He sensed something was amiss when Orel Asaqi suddenly took the Breath of Storm away. He knew the other party had no interest in the divine relic that no one had been able to extract, so why would they suddenly attempt to snatch it?
Foolish son, he always thought he had hidden himself well. The Bloody Duke had to admit that the other party's strength had improved rapidly recently, but he really didn't take those little tricks of young people seriously.
Later, traces of a god appeared in the city of Barandu, but according to internal information, that god was suspected to be the resurrected God of Storms - now it made sense, how this rebellious son of his had somehow become involved with a resurrected god.
...Utoska, the God of Storms, the Bloody Duke's eyes were heavy. He abandoned the god of the Natalin people, and it was unclear whether the other party's resurrection was a good thing or a bad thing.
However, this will be a big business. If they can control the method of resurrection of gods, temples all over the world will go crazy for it - provided that they can really find out the truth about the resurrection of gods.
He was also well aware of the little commotions the slaves had caused, but he didn't think these ants could really cause any trouble. But what really interested him was the Temple of Night—why would these fanatics suddenly choose to confront these slaves? Undoubtedly, it must be related to the god's resurrection.
Rather than crushing these self-proclaimed rebels to death in their cradles and letting those ridiculous insects with fantasies try to "rebel" again and again, it is better to wipe them out with thundering means when they think they have won.
Come on, let me see what you want to do. The Bloody Duke stared out the window indifferently.
The parade had begun. The bishop of the Glorious Church, draped in a magnificent robe woven with gold thread and gemstones into silk, appeared atop a golden lily float, surrounded by thousands of crystal lily lanterns magically suspended in the air. The chants and cheers of the faithful followed closely, hurling their expensively purchased flowers at the float, even though they were quickly crushed into the mud by the wheels, mixing with the snow and water to form a mess.
The float will travel along Emerald Avenue to the central square, where the bishop will deliver the Holy Day sermon, and then the float will circle the city, blessing the faithful throughout Port Morris.
The bishop wore a smile of divine compassion, but inwardly he was troubled. Despite the advance warm-up, the number of believers gathered for this procession was still far less than the previous festival. He could see the filthy, ragged civilians hiding under the eaves, their faces devoid of the expected excitement and reverence, but rather a look of contemptuous sarcasm.
Damn the Limin Daily, damn the White Tower University Seminary—these blasphemous heretics must be responsible. He had repeatedly urged officials to ban the Limin Daily, a blasphemous publication, from Port Morris, but they always met with ambiguity. So, he followed his predecessor's lead and secretly contacted the city's true uncrowned king, the Bloody Duke. He pressured those officials who were always trying to evade the issue, promising to continue providing them with "goods." Bishop Lagasha couldn't be blamed. He thought with regret: in Port Morris, choosing not to go along with the corrupt meant being unable to advance.
A silent shock suddenly swept across the entire Port Morris.
The crystal lily lamps suspended in midair trembled, then suddenly and without warning, plummeted from the sky, disintegrating into countless glittering fragments with a resounding sound. The believers looked at each other in bewilderment. The bishop's robes were instantly ignited by the burning coal. Made of expensive silk, they burned rapidly, forcing him to quickly remove them. His face flushed crimson, doubt and anger growing on his face. This was a public embarrassment. Who had done this? Was it a conspiracy by another temple?
He raised his scepter in anger, intending to summon a ball of light to cover up the mess, but then he discovered to his horror that he was unable to cast any spells.
The believers along Emerald Avenue were already in a state of panic and chaos. The brightly burning crystal lily lamps suddenly fell and exploded one after another, scattering crystalline fragments and sending blue sparks dancing in the air. Such chaos on the very day of the divine sacrifice—did it mean the gods were displeased with them?
The crowd at the front suddenly cried out in surprise. The Glorious Church's exquisite golden lily float burst into flames with a bang, transforming into a massive fireball. The delicate flowers quickly curled and withered in the blue flames, turning into dark ash. The bishop, transformed into a humanoid ball of flame, tumbled and crawled off the float, wailing and writhing on the ground, but soon became motionless.
And those blue fireflies seemed to have eyes, and they flew towards the priests, forcing them to roll on the ground in a panic one after another, trying to put out the fire.
"Divine punishment! This is Divine punishment!" I don't know who shouted first, but soon the panicked screams that came one after another merged into one and spread so far that they covered up the movements of some black figures.
"What is this thing the professor provided?" Daniga couldn't help but mutter under his breath. They were asked to hide some tiny white fibers in the cracks of the float and on the priest's robes. No one had expected that this seemingly inconspicuous thing would have such terrifying power.
Sensing the same thing, the Bloody Duke and the Kamu Duke in the Golden Market sat up straight abruptly. The confidence in their overall strategy disappeared from their faces. They exchanged glances, each seeing solemnity in the other's eyes.
Forbidden magic circle.
Soon, someone reported that a riot had broken out on Emerald Street, and that the bishop of the Glowing Church had been burned to death in the street. The Bloody Duke's face turned grim, and he quickly ordered his men to dispatch troops to Emerald Street. He had painstakingly set up a trap, finally forcing the Glowing Church to once again reach a cooperation with the Bloody Bazaar, but who would have thought that the newly appointed bishop would die, and die in such a ridiculous way.
"Some say this is divine punishment," the reportor said in horror, "because the flames are specifically targeting the priests, but they don't harm the civilians around them."
Duke Kamu looked subtle when he heard the key words. He and the Bloody Duke looked at each other and stood up together.
"I'll go there myself."
The Bloody Duke's face darkened, and Duke Kamu slowly added, "Then please allow me to go with you. I, too, would like to witness the splendor of the 'God'. Of course, the men I brought with me will remain at your disposal."
"Oh, right, he's useless. Let's get rid of him," Duke Kamu said casually, as if suddenly remembering something. He looked at the "pigeon" who had collapsed to the ground. The pigeon looked up at him, its face covered in tears and snot of fear and despair, its mouth wide open, silently shouting something—but was quickly dragged away.
In the Rusty Iron Market, Red Snake suddenly opened his eyes, feeling as if he had forgotten something.
The day of the God's sacrifice, the Golden Market Auction... his top-notch auction item! Red Snake suddenly leaped to his feet, his expression extremely grim. Something must be wrong. Someone had cast a confusion spell on him, causing him to lose track of time.
As soon as he rushed out of the door, he saw his men running towards him hurriedly: "Sir! The slaves are rioting! A group of slaves came from nowhere and rushed into the dungeon, destroying the wooden cages and iron chains. The leader, the leader..."
The other party took a look at his ugly face, swallowed his saliva and continued: "The leading slave is your slave Greven!"
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