Extraordinary pedigree

Chapter 701 Horse Racing·Gun of Morning Light IV

05:50 PM. Weather/Heavy Rain.

Level I Quarantine Zone.

Boom~~

Thunder roared, and the wall of the quarantine zone stood in the gray rain curtain, like a cold barrier that completely separated Hart from the outside world.

The raindrops kept hitting the wall, making a dull echo, as if silently telling the reality that he could not escape.

Hart McDowell stood in front of the window, looking through the towering walls of the quarantine zone and looking into the vague distance.

The outside world seemed to be within reach, but for him, it seemed to be in another time and space. He remembered those days of walking freely-at that time, although he had horse characteristics, he could still work and live on the streets of the city.

Now, the government's decision has pushed him and other infected people into this isolated island-like quarantine zone, isolated from the outside world day after day.

He sighed, and the tools in his hand fell on the table, making a dull sound.

Hart was once a skilled mechanic, but since he was infected with peduncle, his job opportunities have disappeared.

No one is willing to hire someone like him. The heavy wall not only blocked his steps, but also blocked his originally promising career.

Life in the quarantine area is dull and suffocating.

Hart looked out the window, and the dilapidated buildings seemed to blend in with the gloomy weather around him. Residents repeat the same daily routine every day. Occasionally, someone walks past his house, hurriedly lowering his head, as if avoiding some invisible threat.

Children no longer run around in the streets like before, but are replaced by quiet families. It seems that everyone is under some unspeakable pressure in their hearts.

He slowly raised his hand and touched his strong thigh. Since he was infected with peduncle, his leg muscles have become extremely developed, which gives him more physical advantages than ordinary humans, but this "advantage" does not bring him any benefits.

On the contrary, it has become a sign of his isolation and labeling.

Those discrimination and exclusion against the infected are like a shadow, surrounding his life.

He knew where he stood.

He opposed the moderate strategy of the Neutral Union, believing that such compromise would only make the situation of the infected worse.

The Union's negotiations did not really bring change to the infected, but instead maintained the status quo of exploitation.

He was also full of contempt for the radical violence of the liberation of hoof sounds. Although their goals were the same, both opposed the horse racing competition, but Mikhail Garcia's violent actions would only arouse society's fear of the infected and bring more severe oppression and crackdowns.

Violence would only increase the suffering of the infected and could not change their fate.

His attitude towards the Pseudo-Human Sports League was even colder. In Hart's view, the Pseudo-Human Sports League tried to change the stereotypes of society by showing the characteristics of the infected and sports competitions, which was just another form of compromise. Those competitions and exhibitions seemed to show the "specialness" of the infected, but they did not change the discrimination in society, but deepened the objectification of the infected.

There were several deep scars on his forehead, which were left when he fought for the rights of the infected.

He had been at the forefront of the union, organized countless protests, faced the police, the task force, and even been arrested several times, but these scars and struggles ultimately did not bring about the changes that should have been made.

The quarantine area is still a quarantine area, and the infected are still a marginalized group.

If they want to escape marginalization, then all they can do is go to the other extreme - commercialization.

He turned around and looked at a photo on the table.

That was Lina, his daughter, who was once his proudest existence.

Lina in the photo had a bright smile and a sunny and carefree face.

Her horse ears stood high on her head, and her eyes flashed with innocence and talent, full of hope for the future.

Every time he saw this photo, Hart's heart would surge with a touch of warmth, but that warmth was quickly covered by deep pain and confusion about the future.

Next to the photo, there was a card, which was a "character card" customized by the official horse racing competition to promote the horse racing girl. The girl on the card has long white hair, a delicate face, an elegant figure, and is full of competitive spirit - [Silver Wings·Camilla].

————◆————

[Silver Wings·Camilla]

Star rating: ★★☆☆☆

Character background: Camilla is a legendary player of the Silver Knights. She has an elegant appearance and strong physical fitness and balance attributes. She has performed well in different types of competitions, especially obstacle races and endurance races.

Basic attributes:

Speed: B

Endurance: A

Strength: A

Root: B

Wisdom: B

Magic (skill):

Leaping Blade: Camilla can cross obstacles at high speed in the obstacle course through quick reaction and accurate judgment, significantly shortening the competition time.

Adaptability:

Track adaptability: Grass A, Dirt B

Race distance adaptability: Middle distance A, Long distance B

Tactical adaptability: First A, Short catch B

————◆————

Camilla is a legendary player in horse racing. She has strong physical strength and balance attributes and is an idol pursued by many fans.

Her attributes are listed in detail on the card: speed, endurance, strength, root and wisdom.

Each attribute is commercially simplified into a cold letter, and everything can be digitized and commercialized.

Her magic skills highlight her legendary performance on the field.

Hart stood in front of the table, looking at the cards in front of him, his heart full of complex emotions.

The exquisite printing on those cards, the heroic titles, the gorgeous skill descriptions, and the audience's fanatical pursuit of these characters, all of which made him feel extremely disgusted.

In his eyes, all this seemed to be the commercialization of the identity of the infected, and their pain and talents were used as tools for entertainment consumption.

However, as time went by, he had to face an objective reality-the commercial success of the Uma Musume card system has quietly changed the attitude of the whole society, and the infected have been redefined and gradually integrated into the mainstream culture.

The Uma Musume card system has successfully attracted a large number of viewers and consumers by creating attractive virtual characters.

Every audience has formed an emotional attachment by collecting cards, purchasing related products, and even participating in virtual interactions.

The infected are no longer just "patients" or "outliers". They have become an important part of the entertainment industry, and are seen as brave contestants, idol-like stars, and even have their own fan base.

Through this commercialization approach, the infected are no longer marginalized, but have been integrated into mainstream society to some extent and become part of society.

He has witnessed how the economic benefits brought by the card system have changed the living conditions of the infected.

This huge economic system has not only brought prosperity to horse racing and the entertainment industry, but also promoted the transformation of infrastructure in the quarantine area.

They finally have stable electricity and clean water, and medical resources have been significantly improved. Even the attitudes of schools and workplaces towards the infected have gradually eased.

Many schools have begun to accept children of infected people, and companies have adjusted their employment policies to reduce prejudice and discrimination.

Even though he is still full of resistance in his heart, he has to admit that the dividends and social acceptance brought by this commercialization are indeed gradually improving the living environment of the infected.

Many infected people who were once discriminated against have now found self-identity through the Uma Musume competition and have even become idols.

They are no longer victims hiding in the shadows, but representatives who show their power on the public stage.

He thought of some young infected people who actively participated in the card system and used this sense of identity to change their lives and redefine their identities.

Hart stood there, his eyes falling on the photos and cards on the table, his heart full of contradictions and endless complex emotions.

He was once a pioneer in the struggle, leading the union to launch a massive strike, uniting workers in infected communities in many parts of the country, standing at the forefront of minimum wage protection, and fighting for equal rights for infected people.

In those days, he was a hero in people's hearts and a spokesperson for infected workers.

He still remembers how those workers stood up one by one in the conference room with anger and hope burning in their eyes to speak for their rights.

He personally led a team to collect evidence to prove how those companies excluded infected people in the recruitment and promotion mechanisms, and even publicly belittled their abilities in company meetings.

He once firmly believed that with the law and facts, they could shake the foundations of these companies.

But reality is cruel.

Despite his unremitting struggle, the final result was the indifference of the law and the arrogance of the company.

The top executives of the companies responded to the accusations lightly in court, and the bureaucracy continued to avoid the real problems.

The government's promises became empty slogans, and the lives of the infected people were still miserable.

All hopes of victory were crushed by setbacks again and again.

No matter how hard he tried, the results always seemed unsatisfactory, and the situation of the infected people did not really improve.

However, the successful commercialization of horse racing brought changes he had never expected.

The development of this entertainment industry has quietly changed the attitude of society towards the infected.

The infected people have become the focus of the public, heroes on the cards, and have been sought after and respected by fans.

Through horse racing, the infected have found opportunities to survive in the business system and even received more social acceptance.

These changes were what he had failed to achieve in his past struggles, which made him feel deeply powerless and frustrated.

He was full of disgust for these commercial "progresses".

He always believed that the lifelike characters on the cards, the images of infected people shining like stars, were the objectification and exploitation of the identity of infected people.

These characters are nothing more than commodities, tools for consumption and entertainment, which run counter to the struggle of infected people for basic rights.

But at the same time, Hart could not deny that this commercialization is indeed changing reality and improving the living conditions of infected people.

He looked at the cards in his hand with a very complicated mood. Through the business system, infected people have been recognized and their living conditions have been improved.

This is the change that he could not bring about through union struggles and legal proceedings in the past.

The resistance and disgust in his heart have gradually become weak. Although he still finds it difficult to accept all this, he cannot ignore the reality in front of him.

"What I once fought for them... is now realized by these cards..." Hart muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.

[呲呲呲~~~~]

Just as Hart was immersed in thinking about the future and the union's next action plan, suddenly, the old radio made a harsh noise, and then the broadcast of the special message of the infected sounded.

The sound quality was a little unclear, with the unique rustling sound of old electronic equipment, but the cold news broadcast penetrated Hart's mind and pulled him back from his thoughts.

[Emergency News-It is reported that Selina Lockhart, president of the Infected Neutral Federation, was killed in a terrorist attack at the headquarters of the Federation in the new district of Manhattan.

Preliminary investigations show that the terrorist organization "Liberation Hoofbeats" is suspected to be the mastermind behind the attack.

When the attack occurred, President Selina was handling the internal affairs of the Federation, and the explosion instantly destroyed her office. Relevant departments are conducting an emergency investigation into the incident, and more details will be released later-】

Hart froze as he listened to the message on the radio.

His pupils suddenly contracted, followed by a deep shock and anger.

His hands could not help but clench the armrests of the chair, and he murmured in a suppressed, almost unbelievable voice:

"Mikhail... He is crazy... How could he do this to Selina... She is one of the same kind..."

At that moment, Hart seemed to have been drained of all his strength.

Selina Lockhart, she may be a symbol of weakness in his eyes, a representative of the neutral faction that he has always been dissatisfied with, but she is also a compatriot of the infected, a leader who tries his best to change the status quo in a gentle way.

How could Mikhail do this to her?

He couldn't understand, and even felt extremely confused and angry.

Mikhail and his liberation hoofbeats have done too many radical things.

Those bloody scenes emerged in Hart's mind:

In an attack on a large factory, Mikhail planned a terrorist act on the grounds that the factory exploited infected workers. In the end, the factory was engulfed in flames and several workers were injured; in order to resist the government's oppressive policy against the infected, Mikhail even attacked the government office building and used explosions to protest horse racing and isolation policies.

That attack directly caused many innocent casualties in the building.

But even then, Mikhail was not crazy enough.

His behavior has become more and more radical, and in the most recent attack, Mikhail launched a terrorist attack on a national horse racing competition, directly detonating a bomb in the competition venue, injuring dozens of spectators and infected players.

Although Mikhail believed that this would draw society's attention to the plight of the infected, it in turn triggered criticism from many infected organizations.

They believed that the practice of liberating hoofbeats was not only attacking the exploiters, but also hurting their own compatriots.

Hart recalled the reaction at the time. Many infected organizations said that Mikhail's behavior was too radical and even deviated from the original intention of fighting for the rights of the infected.

However, no one expected that Mikhail would be so crazy as to directly blow up the president of the Neutral Federation, a person who has been building a bridge between the infected and humans.

"Liberation Hoofbeats, what are you doing..." Hart gritted his teeth, unable to suppress his inner anger.

Mikhail has completely lost control.

He was no longer the leader who fought for the rights of the infected, but a butcher who did not distinguish between enemies and friends.

If this continues, the infected group will only face greater danger.

Hart was angry about the crazy behavior of Mikhail and the liberation hoofbeats, and suddenly, the door of the room was pushed open.

Outside the rain curtain, Sophia Williams carried her gun case and walked into the house with Lina.

Lina timidly hugged Sophia's thigh, lowered her head, dodged her father's gaze, and her face was full of innocent expressions of fear of being punished.

Hart raised his head and saw this scene, and his originally tense expression relaxed a little.

He quickly restrained his angry expression, but his face was still stiff.

He took a deep breath and said to his daughter:

"You still know how to come back! Look at this day, it's raining heavily, don't you feel cold? What if something happens and you get caught?"

Lina twisted her body without looking up, as if she was frightened by her father's tone.

Hart continued, "Your mother has been nagging you, saying that your grades have dropped recently, and you are always naughty and peeking at the game!"

His tone became more severe, "Why are you so disobedient? If Sofia hadn't brought you back today, would you have planned to stay outside all the time? If it were later this day, your mother would have scolded you when she came back."

Lina listened to her father's words and whispered, "I'm sorry, Dad..."

Hart's face eased a little when he heard his daughter's voice, but he still said with a stern face, "Okay, go find your mother quickly, she has been waiting for you to come back. Don't let her worry anymore, do you hear me?"

Lina nodded, looked at her father timidly, then let go of Sofia's hand and ran quickly to the other side of the house to find her mother.

When Lina's back disappeared at the end of the corridor, Hart's expression suddenly became heavy. He turned to look at Sofia, and his tone was obviously more serious and worried.

"She's still young and doesn't know much, but I'm really worried this time," Hart said in a deep voice, getting straight to the point.

"The quarantine area is so chaotic now, and people outside are panicking. I really don't want her to get involved in these troubles...Sophia, you should know."

There was a hint of chill on Sophia's face, her eyes were as cold as ice, and she replied coldly:

"He killed Selina Lockhart. Before Selina died, she spoke to me and told me that the Authority was going to take over the racetrack. She also mentioned that the Cultural Council was directly under the influence of the Lord of Hell's Kitchen. They had to fully lift the quarantine policy and withdraw their four rangers. The cultural export strategy in the quarantine area also completely collapsed. These are all policies of that adult."

Hart was stunned when he heard this. He knew the lord and had heard rumors about Hell's Kitchen and the Authority, but he did not expect that the Authority's intervention would be so quick and decisive.

He thought that the administration's intervention would come sooner or later, but he never thought that this day would come so suddenly.

"Kurd and his bastards just gave in?"

Hart said with disbelief:

"It was just that Lord's intervention and just a policy that made them, who we regard as life and death enemies, all crawl and retreat. They... actually have no will to resist, and don't even have the idea of ​​​​submitting a secret?"

Sophia nodded with a solemn expression:

"They don't dare to go head-to-head with the Authority and that gentleman. You should also know that the gentleman in Hell's Kitchen is the fourth sword-wielder in the Kingdom of Heaven. His record and style of conduct are unknown in Terra and in the New World. Everyone knows that the fat pig in Kurd has no capital to interfere with or disobey the Lord."

Hart frowned slightly and said after a moment of silence:

"This was originally a good thing. If the Administration could take over the affairs of the infected, our situation might improve. But now, Liberate Hooves and Mikhail... they have gone crazy. I don't think they Will be afraid of the Authority, even the Lord."

"The ignorant are fearless."

Sofia smiled coldly, with a trace of determination flashing in her eyes: "Mikhail and his followers have fallen into fanaticism, and they no longer care who is standing in front of them. Hart, this opportunity for change is the closest we have come.

If that adult in Hell's Kitchen can really admit that we pseudomen and infected people are part of humanity, if that adult becomes one of the thirteen 'World Supervisors'. "

"Then we will be accepted and affirmed by the kingdom of heaven and the giants - and they will have to accept it."

Hart wanted to say something, but when the words reached his lips, he couldn't. In the past, he was always used to thinking about all policies and conspiracies from the worst perspective. He always felt that the intrigues behind power and capital were everywhere. However, this time, he found that he had no way to refute. This opportunity for change—the closest opportunity they have to truly change their destiny—is right in front of them.

He was silent for a long time, and finally whispered:

"This is our only chance... Let's hope Mikhail doesn't ruin it all."

Hearing this, Sophia Williams slowly removed the gun case from her back and placed it in front of herself.

Boom——

Her hands were pressed firmly on the box, her eyes were sharp, and murderous intent burst out of her eyes without concealment.

She spoke coldly, her voice piercing into Hart's heart like an ice blade:

"Hart, he doesn't have that chance."

"I will kill him. I will take his head and surrender to the Lord in Hell's Kitchen."

Sophia's cold murderous intention spread in the air like a substance, making Hart's hair stand on end.

He had never seen Sophia like this before, and that cold and firm determination tightened around his heart like an invisible iron lock.

His lips wriggled, trying hard to find a reason to struggle, but in the end, he whispered word by word:

"This... in the end we ended up fighting each other... obviously we all had the same goal..."

Sophia was unmoved, her eyes were as sharp as an eagle, so determined that there was almost no hesitation.

"Hart, among the four social groups surrounding the racecourse, the Puppet Alliance movement led by me has decided to fully support horse racing. We will use the power of commercialization to strive for economic success and social acceptance."

"Although the current leader of the Neutral Federation, Selina Lockhart, is dead, their internal structure has long been formed, and their path dependence is destined that they will not become an obstacle to commercialization."

"Now, all that's left is your union and the hooves of liberation."

Her voice became deeper and deeper, with unshakable determination:

"I declare to you that the clatter of liberating hooves must be neutralized."

“Whoever hinders commercialization is our enemy; whoever obstructs economic reform must ‘step down’.”

Hart stared at Sophia in silence, with thousands of thoughts colliding fiercely in his mind.

He could see that Sophia's determination was unshakable - she had approached him to make her position clear.

The scratchy feeling in his throat made his voice a little low and hoarse, but he still stubbornly raised his head and looked at her reluctantly:

"If you want to promote commercialization, I have only one condition - you must make that adult guarantee that workers must receive due wage protection, working hours and vacations, and a safe labor environment. We...will never Surrender to financial capital and tyrannical power.

If the rule brought by that adult is more tyrannical than the Cultural Council, than the Kurds and their bastards - then the trade union may not be the next hooves of liberation. "

Hearing this, Sophia nodded slowly, a trace of solemnity and determination flashed in her eyes.

"If he brings a more tyrannical rule, I will rise up and oppose it - even if I am shattered to pieces."

*

*

07:00 PM. Weather/Heavy Rain

Hell's Kitchen.

Authority Headquarters Helserem Tower.

Torrential rain poured down, and the streets of Hell's Kitchen seemed to be swallowed up by a curtain of rain. The water on the streets reflected the intricate outlines of the buildings, making the entire city seem to be upside down in the rain.

The Helsalem Tower is located at the intersection of Eighth Avenue and 42nd Street. It combines modern and Gothic architectural styles, with a sharp tower top and heavy stone rain gutters, revealing an eerie intertwining of ancient and modern times. feel.

Xia Xiu stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, which was dripping with rain. His golden eyes stared quietly at the rain screen, his eyes were calm and deep, with a meaning of thinking.

Zhizhizhi——

The door outside the office was pushed open, and a figure wearing a white sweater walked in.

The man was a shota who looked to be in his early teens, with a pair of fox ears on his handsome face and a fluffy fox tail swaying behind him.

The cuffs of his sweatshirt were slightly rolled up, revealing his slender wrists, and his overall dressing style was in extremely inconsistent contrast with his appearance.

There was a hint of helplessness on his face, with dark circles hanging lightly around his eyes.

Apparently.

The ‘Chief’ of the Whispering Square Hub has not had a good rest recently.

The fox-eared boy walked to Xia Xiu's side, glanced at the rain outside the window, then turned to look at him helplessly, sighed and said:

"The outside world is about to explode because of your policies, but you are quite leisurely. If you are so free, can you go to the hub and help me take care of things?"

Xia Xiu turned his head, smiled, and said in a relaxed tone: "Remember to knock on the door when you come in, Chief Turs."

Turs laughed angrily when he heard this.

"Chief? You really think highly of me. You've left so many messy things to me, and you're quite leisurely."

He stretched out his hand and rubbed his eyes, as if trying to drive away the fatigue, and kept talking.

"The hub is almost becoming a mess, with problems from all planes piling up. Oh, by the way, we met a few idiots before, and they actually wanted to smuggle contraband through the hub. I looked at the list, and it's almost full. The whole Whispering Square.”

The blond young man turned sideways with a smile, wearing the same bastard boss smile that always made the fox-eared boy feel like he deserved a beating.

"Tulse, you are the chief in the hub plane, so this little problem shouldn't be a problem, right? Can't you even deal with a few smugglers?"

Turs's fox ears moved.

He really wanted to punch the smiling golden retriever, but he couldn't.

"Do you really think smuggling is as simple as that? There are shadows from the Federation behind those guys. Can I do it all by myself? And there are also those damn politicians. Their plans are all one after another, and they are counting on me. Go wipe your butt. To be honest, sometimes I really wonder if I am here to work for you, working so hard, and you are here watching the rain."

Xia Xiu's smile continued, and he tapped his cane lightly on the ground.

He "painted the cake" and said:

"If you say that, I will have to seriously consider giving you a salary increase. But, Tours, I believe you know better than anyone else that only you can handle the troubles at the hub."

Turs glanced at him sideways, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly:

"Salary increase? You really know how to draw a pie."

After Turs finished complaining, his eyes suddenly turned cold and his ears trembled slightly.

He put away his usual laughter, put on a serious and solemn expression, and said in a low voice:

“Having said that, I know the situation is more difficult this time, but you didn’t really take action.

You must have heard about the terrorist attack on the Neutrality Federation, right? A 'tragedy' caused by the internal struggle of the infected.

I originally thought that after you went to the Social and Cultural Committee, you would at least let the two special operators, Moon Rabbit or Qing Niu, push forward and steadily implement your policies. Take advantage of this opportunity to expand the influence and scope of intervention of the Authority, especially among those secular infected groups - the first opportunity for the secularization of the Authority is close at hand. "

Turles paused and looked at Xia Xiu, trying to read something from his calm expression, but to no avail.

So he could only continue:

"But you didn't."

"After you put pressure on the Cultural Committee, I have never seen you dispatch other operators in the Administration. It stands to reason that most of the operators in the Administration are infected. Let them implement these policies and make them change Wouldn't it be more logical to be the vanguard? Even if we don't let the Moon Rabbit and the Green Bull come forward, we can just send the Mole to lead the armed forces of the Science Society to advance smoothly."

"In the end, you didn't do anything. Instead, you watched the four social groups fighting among themselves, causing the situation to become increasingly chaotic."

There was confusion and faint worry in his words, and his eyes were always fixed on Xia Xiu.

For Tours, the power of the Authority, especially its influence on the infected population, is a weapon that cannot be ignored.

Xia Xiu seemed to have deliberately given up this advantage, making the situation even more confusing.

Xia Xiu was still standing in front of the window, looking through the thick rain curtain. His golden eyes were extremely deep, reflecting the dim light outside the window.

The silver cane in his hand tapped the ground lightly, making a crisp echo, and the raindrops slid down the window, seeming to be meditating with him.

"Tulsi, most of us can only ignite the flame, not fill the container." He sighed, "Everyone has experienced it, but few understand it."

"Life is not always covered by thick shadows. Light and shadow go hand in hand, and the same is true for those who are infected."

"Huh?" Turs frowned, seeming a little confused.

Xia Xiu finally turned his head, looked at the rain falling like a curtain outside the window, and continued:

"Even if life is obscured by shadows... there will always be light. Those things that support people moving forward will not disappear because of pain and suffering. On the contrary, the existence of shadows will make those small and hard-to-find lights even more Precious. That light, as faint as a firefly or as bright as the stars, is the reason to move forward.”

Xia Xiu's words made Tours feel extremely familiar, and memories came to his mind instantly.

He frowned and quickly thought of the origin of this sentence.

"Sounds a bit like that sketching chiaroscuro thing that guy was talking about last week when we were vampire hunting."

Turs suddenly spoke with a tone of sudden realization.

"Yes, that guy has forgotten everything, but he remembers the knowledge of painting very clearly. His notebook is full of sketches - is this what he said before?"

When Xia Xiu heard this, he showed an exposed smile and the corners of his lips raised slightly.

He nodded, a trace of amusement flashed in his eyes, and then repeated softly:

"Life is probably a sketch, and we have to learn... to use shadow to set off light."

Tours nodded and continued:

"You think that the situation of the infected is indeed difficult. The Administration has incomparable power, but if you intervene too early, the shadow of the situation will be easily dispelled. You think that if the change comes too fast, the light will be weakened. , they should find their own strength and light the way ahead.”

“So, you’re going to bring them to the light of change themselves?”

Xia Xiu smiled slightly and shrugged slightly, the smile in his eyes getting stronger.

"This is what you said, not me."

Looking at the smiling golden retriever in front of him, Turs felt that his fist became hard again.

"I knew you must have a deeper purpose."

Tours then said in a strange tone:

"You are very realistic in your behavior, but you also have idealism in your mind. Sometimes you are so sinister that it makes people grit their teeth, but you always have a bit of damn romanticism..."

Hearing this, Xia Xiu gently raised his hand to stop him, his expression half-smiling.

"Stop! If you want to scold me, come directly. There is no need to go around in so many circles."

After speaking, he gently raised his left hand and snapped his fingertips.

Snap——

A white envelope fell out of thin air on his left hand, with the words - [Yours sincerely, Sophia Williams] written on the surface.

He looked down at the envelope, the smile on his face gradually faded, and his eyes became deep.

"I do have other things to do." He said calmly, with a hint of chill in his tone.

He lightly touched the envelope with his fingertips, his eyes darkening slightly.

"As for me, I prefer to be clean."

Xia Xiu said slowly, his voice low and calm.

"Snakes that don't shed their skin can only wait for death. The same goes for people. People who always hold on to their old skin and refuse to renew it begin to rot from the inside, stop growing, and then die."

Turs was slightly startled. He frowned, vaguely feeling that there was some deep meaning hidden in Xia Xiu's words. "You mean... the sound of liberation hooves?" His voice was hesitant.

Just when he was trying to ask, he suddenly realized the seriousness of the matter. Tours' pupils narrowed, as if he had thought of something, and his tone suddenly sank: "You don't want to bring those people from the Cultural Committee..."

Before he finished speaking, Xia Xiu raised his left hand and raised his index finger to his lips, making a silent gesture.

"Shh - it's not me." The blond young man raised a faint smile on his lips.

"How could I possibly take action against my 'ally'... It's just that the people in Red Branch and those in Liberation Hooves are more eager than me."

Tours' heart jumped suddenly, and his expression suddenly became solemn.

The fourth sword holder in the Kingdom of Heaven looked at the rain curtain, his tone still calm, but with a kind of chilling calmness.

Just like a... adjuster in the inner earth world.

"I never recommend that within a limited range, on a chessboard..."

"Play chess in the dark."

…

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