Don’t raise unruly people in extreme cold weather

Chapter 849

Jiang Bo'er had the drainage pipe smashed by Befa's punch, and then was roughly pulled out of the narrow pipe.

The metal pipe was as fragile as thin paper under the iron fist of the alchemist maid, and fragments of Jiang Bo'er's torn clothes were still hanging on the edge of the twisted and deformed pipe.

The thin boy still held the rusty metal container tightly until his neck was clamped by Befa's cold hand.

His knuckles turned white from excessive force, and his nails dug deep into his palms, oozing blood.

Befa could even hear the crisp sound of his finger bones breaking when he snatched the container, but the boy did not let go until the very end - it was the head maid who used precise and cruel force to break his tightly clasped index finger, middle finger and ring finger one by one.

For Befa, compassion is a data parameter that does not exist at all.

Although her sophisticated differential core is capable of performing complex logical calculations, this is merely mechanical logic given to her by Perfect to facilitate her execution of orders.

Those sobs and tremors that are heartbreaking in the eyes of humans are just behavioral data that do not need to be recorded in the eyes of Befa.

So when Jiang Bo'er's face was covered with scratches and tears, and when his broken fingers twitched in the cold wind, Befa simply pinched his neck with a force that would not kill him, and dragged him to the square outside the energy tower.

She accurately carried out the order to "arrest the saboteurs" and dragged the boy across the icy road like cargo.

Under the dazzling searchlight of the energy tower, Jiang Bo'er was thrown in the center of the square and curled up into a ball. The snow under him gradually turned into dark red bloodstains, while the head maid just watched with an expressionless face.

In a sense, Befa still showed mercy, otherwise it might take her less than a minute to kill all the people in front of her, and this was under the premise that she would need to take the time to find these guys.

At this time, the captured rebels and saboteurs were escorted to the center of the square one after another and piled up like a pile of discarded goods.

The number was about dozens, far exceeding the expectations of the garrison commander.

He originally thought that even if there were real rebels, they would be at most three or five desperate criminals. After all, this was real sabotage, which was completely different from those drunkards who usually gathered in the pub to complain and curse the authorities.

If you are caught, you will be beheaded. Who would give up the days when they can barely survive and insist on hanging their head on their belt to seek death?
But the reality slapped him hard in the face - the group of ragged, skinny French people in front of him, some of them were just teenagers, some were old people with wrinkles on their faces, and there were even a few thin women.

Most of them had numb eyes, but a few still stared at the garrison soldiers, with unwilling anger burning in their eyes.

Obviously, the commander selectively ignored the most crucial fact - these French people had long since died.

When hunger and cold become daily life, and when even the last bit of hope is crushed, death may be a relief for them.

When the last rebel was roughly dragged into the square and thrown on the snow like a torn sack, Perfect finally appeared in front of everyone. However, it was still just her exquisite substitute doll - the body made of brass gears and alchemical joints did not move in the cold wind, and the perfect and almost fake face on the doll's face was mechanically indifferent.

Through the alchemical device of empathy, Perfect, who was far away in the laboratory, was looking at the group of captured prey through the eyes of the puppets.

Most of them were dressed in rags, and the thin cloth could not withstand the severe cold in the north, and their exposed skin was frozen blue and purple.

Long-term malnutrition has left them with sunken cheeks and deep eye sockets, looking like a group of zombies crawling out of their graves.

Many of them were covered in thick coal dust and stains, and their original skin color was almost invisible, as if they were part of this industrial city.

Some of them who were relatively strong still had unhealed whip marks and bruises on their arms and backs. From the shape and location of these old wounds, Perfecto recognized them as "souvenirs" left over from the suppression of the mine riot.

Obviously, many of these people were rioters who had escaped from the mines, and the garrison that was supposed to be on high alert actually allowed them to sneak into the city so brazenly?
This realization made the corner of Perfectcot's puppet's mouth twitch slightly.

Although the stand could not completely simulate her expression, the annoyance coming from the other end of the mental link was almost materialized - what were Marcel's garrison doing?
You just suppressed the riots, and now you let these rats sneak into the city? So your so-called "martial law" is just for show?
Perfect suppressed the harsh sarcasm that was about to rise to his lips, and the fingertips of the substitute puppet unconsciously tapped on the cane, making a light sound of metal colliding.

Through the puppet's cold pupils, she looked at the shivering prisoners in the square, then glanced at the fully armed but lazy garrison soldiers around her, and suddenly she understood in her heart why Marcel had fallen into such a state today.

The cruel exploitation of the empire was certainly the root cause, but these parasite-like governors and officers were the last straw that broke the camel's back for the city.

They greedily squeeze out every penny, but are too lazy to maintain even the most basic public order; they enjoy privileges and luxury, but are indifferent to the lives of the people under their rule.

Perfect could even imagine that those fat and big-eared officials were hiding in their warm official residences, counting the withheld military pay while turning a deaf ear to the riots in the city.

"Hey, the Empire is so lucky to have you!"

The doll perfectly reproduced the subtle changes in her facial expressions when she sighed, even the sarcastic curve at the corner of her mouth was exactly the same.

This sentence is not only a satire on these good-for-nothings in front of him, but also a helplessness towards the current situation - after all, under the control of these insects, it is a miracle that Marcel has been able to hold on until now without completely collapsing.

She originally thought that although these people were somewhat corrupt, they at least had basic abilities. But now it seems that, let alone basic abilities, they cannot even fulfill the most basic duties entrusted to them by the empire.

She even thought about conducting a major cleansing of Marcel and getting rid of all these insects. Perhaps that would make the city more efficient?
Although her plan requires stability, it does not mean that she needs the stability maintained by this group of insects.

She doesn't mind replacing the current corrupt bureaucrats with others if it can improve work efficiency.

And saying this seems to help stabilize the public discontent that is already boiling over in the city?
(End of this chapter)