Chapter 242 Rebellious Party
Someone outside the carriage shouted in panic: "The rebels are here! In carriage number seven—Ah!"
Another burst of intense gunfire shattered the window of the carriage the professor and his companions were in, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor. Before Nova could react, someone grabbed his head and pinned him down. The team leader, who had just been trying to take a bribe, also slumped to the ground, his hand on his hat as he roared, "Fight back! Fight back! Where's the warlock in the team?!"
His voice suddenly choked, because he saw a corpse staring at him with bloodshot eyes, half of its body lying outside the corridor, only blood slowly flowing out from under the body - it was the unfortunate warlock.
Several people with their peaked caps pulled down low suddenly emerged from several carriages and strangled the soldiers' necks with their arms. A soldier tried to shoot back in panic, but someone pushed his arm upwards and the bullet went straight through the roof of the car, leaving several small holes that let in light, and the soldier himself was pierced through the head by the bullet.
The professor narrowed his eyes slightly.
It seems that the "rebel" these soldiers were looking for was someone else, but they just happened to run into the leader of the People's Democratic Party who started the riot in Port Morris, and as a result, they missed out on 500,000 gold coins by accident - he thought he knew who the "rebel" these soldiers were looking for was.
Ben Raj had once introduced him to some of the power struggles in the Bataliya region, including the Bataliya Farmers' Party, also known as the Land Freedom Party. The old man seemed a little embarrassed when he mentioned them, as if he didn't know how to judge them.
"A more radical group," he concluded cryptically, "who believe in public ownership of land, equal distribution, and blood debts paid with blood."
The Land Freedom Party clearly had the upper hand, and soon the soldiers were subdued one after another, tied up tightly, and thrown into the conductor's room near the locomotive.
At the same time, they did not let go of the terrified passengers and entered each carriage one by one to search. Some people were rudely put at gunpoint on their backs and were shouted at and pushed into the same room.
When the Land Freedom Party entered the professor's carriage, the squad leader, realizing his situation was hopeless, had already ducked under the seat. However, he was quickly and roughly pulled out and struck hard on the back of the head with the butt of a rifle. The leader took a closer look at the pale, black-haired young man, sneered, and without hesitation, pointed his gun at the two of them: "Shut up, bastards! Stand up!"
He pointed his gun at the blond young man beside him and threatened fiercely, "If you dare to make any noise, I'll shoot the guy next to you first."
professor:"……"
Then you are very brave.
But he still calmly shook the savior's hand, signaling the other party not to act rashly, and then obediently followed the other party out of the car.
The train's cabin quickly filled with people. Standing in an inconspicuous corner, the professor observed silently and quickly discovered the problem—the vast majority of those present were dark-haired young men, predominantly well-dressed. Suddenly, the crowd scrambled in panic, like a flock of frightened sheep. Nova frowned, and Azuka, standing beside him, used her arms to create a small space for him to breathe.
Someone walked into the conductor's room, the metal hook and leather holster rubbing against his waist, making a creaking sound. The man was tall, wearing a faded, old military uniform and no hat. His gray hair was spiky and his nose was high, adding a bit of hostility to his facial features.
"I'm Wood. The Free Land Party has some important matters to discuss with a gentleman. All I know is that he has dark hair and has disguised himself for secret travel, and he's on this train." His voice was neither loud nor soft, and his sharp eyes slowly scanned the crowd, making some shudder. The Free Land Party was notorious for its brutality, and they didn't mind killing. "Who is Bas Catherine?"
No one answered, so Wood simply unhooked his gun, cocked it with a click, and squinted his eyes at everyone. "No one admits it? All the black hair on the train is here. If anyone knows where he is, you'd better tell us as soon as possible so that everyone can return home safely."
"But if no one tells me..." He pulled out a rusty pocket watch from his trouser pocket, opened it and took a look, then revealed a ferocious smile: "Sorry, everyone, from now on, I will kill one person at random every minute."
After a brief silence, there was a sudden, chaotic explosion. The outsiders seemed more indignant, while the locals were even more terrified. The man who called himself Wood remained calm, his eyes fixed on his pocket watch. He slowly reminded them, "Thirty seconds left."
Until the other party put on the pocket watch and announced the end of the first countdown, still no one stood up. Wood shook his head and signaled his men to pick out a young man who suddenly showed a look of despair in the crowd. Ignoring the other's pleas, he forced him to kneel in front of the crowd and then pointed a pistol at the back of his head.
"What a shame," Wood said. "May the gods bless your soul."
But no gunshot was heard, and a voice broke the almost suffocating silence.
"—wait, he's not Buzz Catherine."
Suddenly, the young man who had survived collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The crowd pushed and shoved, clearing a path. A pale, black-haired young man wearing glasses walked out of the crowd. His features were so ordinary that they were easily forgotten.
Seeing all the ferocious rebels staring at him, the other party remained calm and explained, "His middle finger joint is slightly deformed, his collar is stained with ink, his coat buttons are faded, and his cuffs are frayed, which shows that he lives in poverty. But he still wears a scarf, which means his profession forces him to look 'respectable'. Perhaps he's a clerk or a tutor - in any case, he is a commoner, not a noble belonging to the Catheran family."
Wood sneered, "So what?"
His index finger continued to pull the trigger - this time the young man was so bold as to grab his arm directly.
“Damn it!”
"What are you going to do?!"
Even though he was being pointed at by countless guns and amid the angry shouts of the people around him, the black-haired young man still stared calmly into Wood's eyes. The color of his eyes behind the lenses... seemed to be a very, very cold and sharp smoky gray, which actually made Wood look dazed for a moment.
"Are you sure you want to waste your time killing irrelevant people?" The other party's voice was soft, but it was resounding. "Bass Catheran is right here. He is General Catheran's biological son. Catheran's army will soon realize something is wrong. They will send more people to surround you and trap you in this small carriage. You will be wiped out."
Wood finally came to his senses and narrowed his eyes slightly.
"What's your relationship with this guy?" He pouted at the young man who was almost peeing.
"It was just a chance encounter." The professor replied coldly.
But before Wood could question him, the man calmly threw out a bait that the Land Freedom Party could not resist: "I know where Bass Catherine is."
Seeing that everyone's breathing had become rapid, he continued, "--but first I need to know what you want to talk to him about."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" someone shouted. Seeing the man didn't even look up, he felt humiliated and furious. He looked towards the leader and said, "Wood, kill him first. Every one of these 'respectable people' is a glutton. That guy looks like an aristocrat, but he's nothing to be trifled with."
"That bastard colluded with the court and forcibly expropriated over 800 hectares of land," Wood suddenly said. "He drove out all the free farmers. Thousands of people received only meager compensation, and some even owed the Catheran family a debt."
Under the gaze of those gray eyes, he couldn't help but reveal more. "Then half a month ago, he killed more than thirty of us, brutally slaughtering us."
"I've heard of the former," the professor said thoughtfully. "So you're looking for him to kill him and avenge yourself?"
"Shouldn't we pay blood debts with blood?!" Wood's eyes suddenly became ferocious. He raised his gun and pointed it at the black-haired young man's forehead: "Now tell me where he is. If I find out you're playing tricks on me..."
"If I were you, the most basic thing I would do is control Bass Catheran first," the professor said slowly, completely ignoring the gun pressed against his forehead. "Then use him to negotiate with the Catheran family and force them to sign a land return agreement."
Wood sneered: "The Catheran family doesn't have only one son, how could they possibly agree to this?"
Those smoky grey eyes stared at him coldly, devoid of any emotion, and Wood couldn't help but shudder. "So wait until the Catheran family refuses, then execute him in public."
Wood was stunned for a moment and frowned: "What's the difference?"
"The difference between a personal vendetta and a public one." The black-haired young man sneered, glancing at him with a look that said, "I can't understand this." "The former only shows that you are a group of brutal and mindless terrorists, while the latter are insurgents who are truly fighting for the interests of the farmers."
The gun against his forehead was pressed harder, and Wood's features twisted. "That's enough! Are you stalling for time?!"
"There's no need for me to waste time." The professor tutted impatiently. He rudely moved the gun away with his hand, turned his head and looked around. Then, without hesitation, he pointed at someone in the crowd: "That's Bass Catherine."
The person he pointed at suddenly had a changed expression. He looked around and took a few steps back in fear and panic. "What nonsense are you talking about! What evidence do you have?!"
The other party glanced at him in confusion and said, "You can't tell that just by looking at it."
Seeing everyone staring at each other in bewilderment, the professor sighed and simply continued with his suggestion: "Search his clothes and luggage. You'll definitely find some kind of identification."
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