Mystery: A Spark

After calming down the chaos among the crowd, Hugh rushed to where Arthur had fallen.

By this time, the security team had surrounded Arthur and were trying their best to stop the bleeding, but the blood from his chest was still flowing out uncontrollably.

"Quickly carry the commander back to the office building; someone there can save him." After examining Arthur's chest wound, Hugh made a decisive decision.

Fortunately, Miss Audrey came to visit the children today, and Hugh knew that she had a magical item that could heal wounds.

"Yes, boss." Williams responded first, then found a piece of construction wood from the side, and together with the others, lifted Arthur and ran towards the office building not far away.

The others assisted from the sidelines to prevent any further accidents from happening to their leader on the way, while also being on guard against possible assassination attempts.

Hugh watched as his men carried Arthur into the office building, breathed a slight sigh of relief, and then turned to look at the workers behind him.

She knew that now, after Arthur's assassination, she had to handle everything with extreme caution.

Otherwise, even the slightest mistake could render all of Arthur's previous efforts futile.

The first challenge she faced was how to prevent a potential riot by the workers after witnessing their leader being stabbed.

There is no doubt that Arthur enjoys immense prestige among them.

So, after witnessing Arthur's assassination, they needed an outlet for their anger, otherwise things would inevitably go wrong.

Especially during this critical period, she needs to stabilize the situation even more.

“Just now, our president was the victim of a shameful assassination attempt,” Hugh said calmly.

A commotion broke out in the crowd, and someone shouted:

“Miss Sheriff, this must have been done by those shameless factory owners. Only they would have such a motive!”

"Yes! That's right! It must be those damned guys!" People couldn't help but echo this sentiment.

“We must retaliate against them!” some radicals even shouted.

In an instant, followers flocked to him.

The crowd became restless, and many people even started looking for handy weapons around them.

This is not a difficult task, after all, this is a construction site.

There are many metal tools such as hammers and wrenches, and countless non-mainstream weapons such as wooden sticks and bricks.

If all else fails, you can even grab a handful of sand from the ground.

But at this moment, Hugh spoke up again.

"Revenge? How do you intend to take revenge? Drag those guys out of their kennels and beat them to death?" she demanded.

"Why can't we?!" many people retorted angrily. "They've already resorted to such shameless methods as assassination, why can't we retaliate?"

"Because Mr. Heller has high expectations for you! That's why you can't retaliate with force at this time!" Hugh said loudly.

As soon as these words were spoken, the people fell silent.

Those who were searching for a suitable weapon stopped and focused their attention on Hugh.

the first time.

This was the first time they had heard that someone had such high expectations of people like them.

They were all lowly people, as humble as dirt, yet even so, did Mr. Heller have expectations for them?

"Mr. Heller, what...what are his expectations of us?" someone asked hesitantly.

People looked at the petite figure ahead, longing for an answer.

Or to be more precise, they crave recognition, hoping that their lowly, dust-like lives can have even the slightest bit of value worth mentioning.

“He said…” Hugh looked at the people with different expressions in front of him, his eyes slightly red, “He said he hoped that you could all eat well, dress warmly, and have stronger bodies.”

He said he also hoped that you would read and study, and arm your minds with rich and correct knowledge.

He hopes that you will become brave and be able to face all the difficulties in life.

"This is what he expects of you."

Hugh stepped forward, clenched his fist and placed it on his chest, and said slowly but firmly:

"In the past few days, we have adhered to a non-violent fighting strategy, which has made us invincible, and we are about to succeed."

"Fellow countrymen, the reason why those shameless guys did such a thing at this time is precisely to expose their weakness and nervousness."

"They've panicked! They're panicking! They've lost their composure!"

"And at this point, do you really want to let Mr. Heller's hard work go to waste?"

The crowd fell into an unspeakable silence.

After a long while, a worker holding a brick suddenly dropped it.

"Snap!" Another sound, as another worker threw away the stick in his hand.

"Crash!" Like dominoes, people threw away the various weapons they had just picked up.

"But are we really just going to pretend nothing happened?" A boy who looked to be in his teens at the front of the crowd finally couldn't help but ask.

He was once an orphan who wandered the East District and had been a member of the Dead Water Gang at the docks.

But not long after he joined, before he could even figure out what it meant to be a gang member, the Deadwater Gang was wiped out by Hugh and his security team.

The remaining members of the Deadwater Gang were captured by Hugh, and then Arthur interrogated them before killing them, leaving only a few survivors.

But the boy harbored no hatred for Mr. Heller, because he later learned of the horrific things the Dead Water Gang had done.

During the severe smog, he was rescued and joined the Workers' Aid Association, becoming a member.

He had a strong admiration for Mr. Heller, so even though he knew that revenge was wrong at this time, he just couldn't stand it.

“We certainly can’t pretend nothing happened, because that would only make us seem incredibly weak, like we wouldn’t fight back even when we’re being bullied.”

Hugh shook his head. "We are not sheep, folks. We must fight back against those people's shameless assassination attempts. But this requires a sound strategy, not blind violence."

"This afternoon, we will proceed with the march as scheduled, and I will handle the rest."

……

“Mr. Mike, I apologize for disturbing you, I hope you don’t mind.” Hugh looked at the middle-aged man in front of him and smiled and nodded.

“Of course I don’t mind, Miss Hugh. May I ask what brings you here today?” Mike, a reporter with a neat mustache and a pair of blue eyes, poured Hugh a cup of black tea and then asked politely.

"Yes, a terrible incident occurred in the East District this afternoon, and I hope you, Mr. Mike, can report on it truthfully."

“Miss Hugh, please speak. I will personally investigate and verify this later.” Mike took out paper and pen from his clothes and began to take notes seriously.

"The thing is like this..."

……

"Damn it! Which son of a bitch took it upon himself to send someone to assassinate him?!"

Inside a luxurious mansion, a fat man covered in makeup looked at the group of people in front of him and roared angrily, spitting as he spoke.

He was the factory owner who had previously proposed in parliament to arrest and publicly execute the mastermind behind the protest.

After that meeting, he clearly sensed that something was wrong.

Because the attitude of the kingdom's nobles was too strange; they showed absolutely no intention of supporting his proposal.

So he sent someone to investigate the young man, and also sent an envoy.

Unfortunately, the investigation into this young man's background could only trace back to his life before he went to sea.

The subsequent investigation seemed to encounter some kind of resistance, and nothing of value was obtained.

An investigation into the young man's experiences after returning to Backlund revealed that he appeared to have a background with the Steam Church.

In this way, the factory owner felt he understood why the nobles had reacted so strangely to his proposal.

It was clear that this young man could not be dealt with through simple violence.

Would killing him solve everything? That would only bring you more trouble.

So after that, the factory owner abandoned his plan to take drastic measures.

Even if the envoy he sent was publicly refuted, he could only swallow his anger and instead vent his frustration on the envoy.

After all, in terms of violence, the people he hired with money were definitely no match for the three major churches and the military.

So this big factory owner's plan was to outlast that damned workers' mutual aid association, and whoever couldn't hold out first would lose.

However, what he didn't expect was that one of them would be the first to give in and take the risk of hiring someone to assassinate Arthur Heller.

This infuriated him, because the fact that the assassination had occurred meant that their side had broken the rules first.

If the other person were someone with no background, that would be fine; killing them would be no big deal. But that kid has a church background.

He didn't even dare to imagine what would happen next.

“Mr. Evan, if I may be so bold, I have no intention of using assassination, and I believe that the other gentlemen would not do such an unseemly thing.”

"On the contrary, I heard that the assassin who killed Arthur Heller was one of your former capable henchmen, who helped you resolve many workers' strikes."

"But you previously disregarded his contributions and treated him very roughly. I think this incident is probably partly your fault."

After listening to the factory owner's angry outburst, a middle-aged man sitting below refuted him quite rudely.

"You!" The factory owner was so angry that he couldn't speak.

He's not stupid. If he really wanted to send someone to assassinate someone, why would he use someone who's obviously his own?

Just then, his butler suddenly burst in, saying somewhat flusteredly:

"Sir, a squad of soldiers has arrived. They say that Duke Negan wishes to invite you over to ask a few questions about today's assassination attempt."

"Sir." A man rushed in in a panic; it was his male servant.

“A team of Mechanical Hearts has arrived. They say they need you to provide a reasonable explanation for the assassination.”

"Thump." The factory owner, drenched in cold sweat, plopped down in a chair.

cuckoo

I can't hold it in anymore, that's all for today.