Extraordinary Pedigree.

Chapter 701 Horse Racing: Gun of Morning Light IV
05:50 PM. Weather/Heavy Rain.

Level I quarantine area.

Boom~~
Thunder roared, and the wall of the isolation area stood in the gray rain curtain, like an icy barrier that completely separated Hart from the outside world.

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

Hart McDowell stood at the window, looking through the towering walls of the quarantine zone into the blurry distance.

The outside world seemed within reach, but to him it seemed like another time and place. He remembered the days when he could walk freely—when, despite his equine features, he could still work and live on the city streets.

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

He sighed, and the tools in his hands fell on the table with a dull sound.

Hart was once a skilled mechanic, but after contracting perissodactyly, his job opportunities disappeared.

No one was willing to hire someone like him. The thick wall not only blocked his footsteps, but also blocked his once promising career.

Life in quarantine is dull and stifling.

Hart looked out the window. The dilapidated buildings seemed to blend in with the gloomy weather. The residents repeated the same routine every day. Occasionally, someone walked past his house, hurriedly lowering their heads, as if avoiding some invisible threat.

Children no longer run around in the streets like they used to, but instead live in quiet families, as if everyone is under some unspeakable pressure in their hearts.

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

Instead, it became a symbol of his isolation and labeling.

The discrimination and exclusion against infected people followed him throughout his life.

He knew where he stood.

He opposed the Neutral Union's soft strategy, believing that such a compromise would only make the situation worse for the infected.

The Federation’s negotiations have not brought real change for those infected, but have instead maintained the exploitative status quo.

He also despises the radical violence of the Liberation Hoofbeats. Although their goals are the same, both are against the horse racing competition, but Mikhail Garcia's violent actions will only arouse society's fear of the infected, bringing more severe oppression and crackdowns.

Violence will only increase the suffering of those infected and will not change their fate.

He is even more indifferent to the Pseudo-Human Sports League. In Hart's view, the Pseudo-Human Sports League attempts to change social stereotypes by showing the characteristics of infected people and sports competitions, which is just another form of compromise. Those competitions and exhibitions seem to show the "specialness" of infected people, but they do not change social discrimination, but deepen the objectification of infected people.

His forehead is etched with deep scars from his fight for the rights of the infected.

He had been on the front lines of the union, organized countless protests, faced the police, task forces, and was even arrested a few times, but these scars and struggles ultimately did not bring about the change that was supposed to happen.

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

If they want to escape marginalization, 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 had once been the person he was most proud of.

In the photo, Lina has a bright smile and her face is filled with a sunny and carefree look.

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

Every time Hart sees this photo, a warmth wells up in his heart, but that warmth is quickly overshadowed by deep pain and confusion about the future.

Next to the photo, there is a card, which is a "character card" customized by the horse racing official to promote horse racing girls. 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: ★★☆☆☆
Background: Camilla is a legendary player of the Silver Knights. She has an elegant appearance, strong physical strength and balance. She performs well in different types of competitions, especially obstacle courses and endurance races.

Basic attributes:
Speed: B
Stamina: A
Strength: A
Root nature: B
Wisdom: B
Thaumaturgy (Skill):

Leap Blade: Camilla can use quick reactions and accurate judgment to leap over obstacles at high speeds during the obstacle course, significantly shortening the race time.

Adaptability:
Track adaptability: Grass A, Dirt B
Race distance adaptability: middle distance A, long distance B
Tactical adaptability: A first, then B later
————◆————

Camilla is a legendary horse racing athlete with strong physical fitness and balance, making her an idol for many fans.

Her attributes are detailed on the card: Speed, Stamina, Strength, Roots, and Intelligence.

Every attribute has been commercially simplified into a cold letter, and everything can be digitized and commoditized.

And her thaumaturgical skills only highlight her legendary performance on the field.

Hart stood at the table, looking at the cards in front of him, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

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

In his eyes, all this seemed to be the commodification of the identity of the infected, and the use of their pain and talents 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 entire society. The infected people 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 forms an emotional attachment by collecting cards, purchasing related products, and even participating in virtual interactions.

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

Through this commercial approach, infected people are no longer marginalized, but are to some extent integrated into mainstream society and become part of society.

He had witnessed firsthand how the economic benefits of the card system changed the living conditions of the infected.

This huge economic system not only brought prosperity to horse racing and the entertainment industry, but also promoted infrastructure transformation within the quarantine zone.

They finally have stable electricity and clean water, medical resources have improved significantly, and even schools and workplaces have gradually softened their attitudes toward the infected.

Many schools have begun accepting children of people living with the virus, and companies have adjusted their hiring policies to reduce bias and discrimination.

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

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

They are no longer victims hiding in the shadows, but representatives demonstrating 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 fixed on the photos and cards on the table, his heart filled with contradictions and endless complex emotions.

He was once a pioneer in the struggle, leading the union in launching 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 the infected workers.

He still remembers how the workers stood up one by one in the meeting room, with anger and hope burning in their eyes, and spoke up for their rights.

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

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

But the reality is cruel.

Despite his unremitting struggle, the final result was legal indifference and corporate arrogance.

Corporate executives responded to the charges in court with a light touch, and the bureaucracy continued to avoid the real issues.

The government’s promises have become empty slogans, while the lives of those infected remain difficult.

All hopes for 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 never expected.

The development of this entertainment industry has quietly changed society's attitude towards infected people.

The infected became the focus of the public, became heroes on the cards, and gained the admiration and respect of fans.

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

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

He was filled with disgust at these commercial "progresses".

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

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

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

He looked at the cards in his hand with mixed feelings. Through the business system, the infected people were recognized and their living conditions were improved.

This was a change he had been unable to bring about in the past through union battles and legal action.

The resistance and disgust in his heart had gradually weakened. Although he still found it difficult to accept all this, he could not ignore the reality before him.

"What I once fought for them... is now achieved 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 special messages from the infected sounded.

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

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

Preliminary investigations showed that the terrorist organization 'Liberation Hoofbeats' was suspected to be behind the attack.

When the attack occurred, President Selina was handling the internal affairs of the Federation. The explosion instantly destroyed her office. The 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 tightly grasp 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 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 fellow infected person, a leader who tries her best to change the status quo through gentle means.

How could Mikhail lay a hand on her?
He couldn't understand and even felt extremely confused and angry.

Mikhail and his liberating hooves have done too many radical things.

Hart's mind flashed back to those bloody scenes:

In an attack on a large factory, Mikhail planned a terrorist act on the grounds that the factory was exploiting infected workers. The factory eventually caught fire and several workers were injured. In order to resist the government's oppressive policy towards the infected, Mikhail even attacked the government office building and used explosions to protest against horse racing and quarantine policies.

That attack directly resulted in casualties of many innocent people in the building.

But even then, Mikhail was not yet so crazy.

His behavior has become increasingly radical, and in his most recent attack, Mikhail launched a terrorist attack on a national Uma Musume competition, detonating a bomb directly inside the competition venue, injuring dozens of spectators and infected contestants.

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

They believe that the practice of liberating the hoofbeats is not only an attack on the exploiters, but also a harm to their fellow countrymen.

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

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

"Liberation Hoofbeats, what on earth are they doing..." Hart clenched 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 friend and foe.

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

Hart was getting angry at Mikhail and the Liberation Hoofbeats' crazy behavior, when suddenly, the door of the room was pushed open.

Outside the rain, Sophia Williams, carrying her gun case, walked into the house holding Lina's hand.

Lina timidly hugged Sofia's thighs, lowered her head, avoided her father's gaze, her face full of an innocent expression of fear of being punished.

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

He quickly suppressed his angry expression, but his face remained stern.

He took a deep breath and said to his daughter:

"You still remember to come back! Look at the weather, 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 startled by her father's tone.

Hart continued, "Your mom has been nagging you, saying that your grades have been declining recently, and you're always being naughty and prankish, and you're even sneaking in to watch the game!"

His tone became more severe. "Why are you so disobedient? If Sophia hadn't brought you back today, would you have stayed outside all the time? If it were any later in the 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 expression eased a little when he heard his daughter's voice, but he still said with a straight 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, glanced timidly at her father, 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 Sophia, and his tone was obviously more serious and worried.

"She's still young and doesn't understand, but I'm really worried this time," Hart said in a deep voice, getting straight to the point. "The quarantine area is so chaotic right now, and people outside are panicking. I really don't want her to get involved in these troubles...Sophia, you should know."

Sophia's face was a little colder, her eyes were like ice, and she replied coldly:

"He killed Selina Lockhart. Before she died, Selina spoke to me and told me that the Administration was going to take over the racecourse. She also mentioned that the Cultural Committee was under direct pressure from the master in Hell's Kitchen and had to fully lift the quarantine policy and withdraw their four rangers. The quarantine zone's cultural export strategy also completely collapsed. These are all the policies of that master."

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

"So Kurd and his bastards are just going to give in like that?"

Hart said with disbelief:
"Just because that gentleman came forward and made a policy, all of these guys, whom we regarded as our mortal enemies, retreated prostrate. They...actually had no will to resist, and didn't even think of pretending to obey but actually disobeying?"

Sophia nodded, looking serious:

"They don't dare to confront the Administration and that master head-on. You should also know that the master of Hell's Kitchen is the fourth sword bearer of the Kingdom of Heaven. His achievements and style of doing things are well known in Terra and the New World. Kurd, that fat and big-eared dead pig, has no capital to interfere with or disobey that master."

Hart frowned slightly, and after a moment of silence, he said:

"This is a good thing. If the Administration could take over the affairs of the infected, our situation might improve. But now, Liberation Hoofbeats and Mikhail... they have gone crazy. I don't think they will fear the Administration, or even that adult."

“The ignorant are fearless.”

Sofia smiled coldly, with a gleam of determination in her eyes: "Mikhail and his followers have fallen into a frenzy, and they no longer care who stands in front of them. Hart, this opportunity for change is the closest we have ever been.

If the Lord in Hell's Kitchen can really admit that we pseudo-humans and infected people are part of the human race, if that Lord becomes one of the thirteen 'World Supervisors'. "

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

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

He was silent for a long time, and finally whispered:
"This is our only chance... I hope Mikhail doesn't ruin it all."

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

thump—

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

She spoke coldly, her voice piercing Hart's heart like an icy 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 intent seemed to spread in the air like a substance, making Hart feel his hair stand on end.

He had never seen Sophia like this before. That cold and firm determination was like an invisible iron chain that tightly strangled his heart.

His lips moved, trying to find a reason to struggle, but in the end, he whispered word by word:
"This... In the end, we still end up killing each other... We all had the same goal..."

Sophia remained unmoved, her eyes were as sharp as an eagle and so firm that there was hardly any hesitation.

"Hart, among the four social groups surrounding the racecourse, the Pseudo-Human Alliance movement that I lead 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 Union, Selina Lockhart, has passed away, their internal structure has long been formed, and their path dependence also means that they will not become an obstacle to commercialization.”

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

Her voice deepened, with an unshakable determination:
"I declare to you that the hoofbeats of liberation must be dismantled."

"Whoever hinders commercialization is our enemy; whoever hinders economic reform must 'step down'."

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

He could see that Sophia's resolve was unshakable - she had come to him and made her position clear.

The itchy feeling in his throat made his voice a little low and hoarse, but he still raised his head stubbornly and looked at her unwillingly:
“If you want to promote commercialization, I have only one condition - you must get that adult to guarantee that workers must get the proper wages, working hours and holidays, as well as a safe working environment. We... will never succumb to financial capital and tyranny.

If the rule brought by that adult is more tyrannical than that of the Cultural Committee, the Kurds and their bastards, then the trade unions may also become the next hoofbeats of liberation. "

Hearing this, Sophia nodded slowly, with a hint of solemnity and determination in her eyes.

"If he brings a more tyrannical rule, I will fight back - even if it means I will be torn to pieces."

*
*
07:00 PM. Weather/Heavy Rain
Hell's Kitchen.

The headquarters of the Administration, Helserem Tower.

Heavy rain poured down, and the streets of Hell's Kitchen seemed to be swallowed up by the rain. The puddles on the streets reflected the intricate outlines of the buildings, making the entire city look like it was turned upside down in the rain.

The Hercelyum Tower is located at the intersection of Eighth Avenue and 42nd Street. It combines modern and Gothic architectural styles. The sharp tower top and heavy stone rain gutters exude an eerie sense of the interweaving of ancient and modern.

Xia Xiu stood in front of the huge French window. Rain was pouring outside the window. His golden eyes stared at the rain quietly. His eyes were calm and deep, full of thought.

squeak-

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

The man was a young boy who looked to be in his early teens. He had a pair of fox ears on his handsome face and a furry fox tail swaying behind him.

The cuffs of his sweatshirt were slightly rolled up, revealing his slender wrists. His overall dressing style was in stark contrast to his appearance.

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

Obviously.

The 'chief' of the Whisper Plaza 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:
"Everyone outside is going crazy because of your policies, but you seem to be quite relaxed. If you are so free, can you go to the hub and help me take care of things?"

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

Upon hearing this, Tours laughed angrily.

"Chief? You really think highly of me. You throw so many troubles to me, but you are so relaxed yourself."

He stretched out his hand and rubbed his eyes, as if trying to drive away the fatigue, while his mouth continued to speak.

"The hub is about to become a mess, with problems piling up from all planes. Oh, and we ran into a few idiots earlier who actually tried to smuggle contraband through the hub. I looked at the list, and it could fill up the entire Whispering Square."

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

"Turles, you are the chief in the Nexus Plane. This little problem shouldn't be a problem for you, right? Can't you even handle a few smugglers?"

Tulsi's fox ears twitched.

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

"Do you really think it's as simple as smuggling? Those guys have the Federation behind them. Can I handle it alone? And there are those damn politicians. Their plans are all one after another, and they expect me to clean up the mess. To be honest, sometimes I really doubt whether I am working for you in vain. I work so hard, and in the end you are just watching the rain here."

Xia Xiu continued to smile and tapped the ground lightly with his cane.

He "painted the cake" and said:

"If you say so, I'll have to seriously consider giving you a raise. But, Tours, I believe you know better than anyone that only you can handle the troubles at the hub."

Tours glanced at him, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly:

"Salary increase? You really are good at making promises."

After Tours finished complaining, his eyes suddenly became cold and his ears trembled slightly.

He put away his usual playful expression, replaced it with a serious and solemn look, and said in a low voice:

“Having said that, I know the situation is tricky this time, but you didn’t really make a move.

You must have heard about the Neutral Union's terrorist attack, right? It was a tragedy caused by the internal struggle of the infected.

I originally thought that when you went to the Social and Cultural Committee, you would at least let the two special operators, Moon Rabbit or Blue Ox, push forward and steadily implement your policies. Take this opportunity to expand the influence and scope of the Administration, especially among those secular infected groups - the first opportunity for the Administration to secularize is just around the corner. "

Tulse 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 haven't seen you dispatch other operators of the Administration. Logically, most of the operators in the Administration are infected. Isn't it more logical to let them implement these policies and make them the pioneers of change? Even if you don't let the Moon Rabbit and the Blue Ox come forward, you can send the Mole to lead the armed forces of the Science Society to advance smoothly."

"In the end, you did nothing. Instead, you watched the four social groups fight each other, causing the situation to become more chaotic."

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

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

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

Xia Xiu was still standing in front of the window, his eyes penetrating the thick rain curtain. His golden eyes were unusually deep, reflecting the dim lights outside the window.

The silver cane in his hand tapped the ground lightly, making a crisp echo. Raindrops slid down the window, as if they were also in deep thought with him.

"Turles, most of us can only light the flame, not fill the container." He sighed, "Everyone has experienced it, but few have understood it."

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

"Hmm?" Tours frowned, seeming a little puzzled.

Xia Xiu finally turned his head and looked at the rain outside the window that was pouring down like a curtain, and continued:
"Even if life is covered by shadows... there will always be light. The things that support people to move forward will not disappear because of pain and suffering. On the contrary, the existence of shadows makes those small and hard-to-get lights more precious. That light, as weak as a firefly or as bright as a star, is the reason to move forward."

Xia Xiu's words made Tours feel extremely familiar, and memories flooded into his mind in an instant.

He frowned and quickly figured out the origin of this sentence.

"Sounds a bit like the chiaroscuro that guy talked about during our vampire hunt."

Turles suddenly spoke up, with a tone of sudden realization.

"Yes, that fellow forgot everything, but he remembered his knowledge of painting very clearly. His notebooks are full of sketches - you said the same thing before, right?"

Upon hearing this, Xia Xiu smiled as if he had been exposed, with the corners of his lips slightly raised.

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

“Life is probably a sketch, and we must learn…to use shadows to set off light.”

Tours nodded and continued:
"You think the situation of the infected is indeed difficult. The Administration has unparalleled power, but if they intervene too early, the shadows in the situation will be easily dispelled. You think that if the change comes too quickly, the light will be weakened. They should find their own strength and illuminate the way forward."

“So, you want them to walk toward the light of change themselves?”

Xia Xiu smiled slightly and shrugged lightly, the smile in his eyes becoming more and more intense.

"That's what you said, not me."

Looking at the smiling golden retriever in front of him, Turles felt his fists harden again.

"I knew you had a deeper purpose."

Tours then said sarcastically:
"You, you are very realistic in your actions, but you are also idealistic in your mind. Sometimes you are so dark that it makes people grit their teeth, but you always have a bit of damn romanticism..."

Upon hearing this, Xia Xiu gently raised his hand to stop him, with a half-smile on his face.

"Stop! If you want to scold me, just come directly. There's no need to go around in circles and stack armor."

After saying that, he gently raised his left hand and snapped his fingers.

Snapped--

A white envelope fell into his left hand out of nowhere, with the words "Sincerely, Sophia Williams" written on it.

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 gently stroked the envelope with his fingertips, his eyes slightly heavy.

"I prefer to keep things clean."

Xia Xiu said slowly, his voice low and calm.

"A snake that doesn't shed its skin can only wait to die. The same is true for humans. Those who always cling to their old skin and refuse to renew it will rot from the inside, stop growing, and then die."

Turles was slightly stunned, and he frowned, vaguely sensing that there was something behind Xia Xiu's words. "You mean... the sound of liberation hooves?" His voice was a little hesitant.

Just as he was trying to ask further questions, he suddenly realized the seriousness of the matter. Turles' pupils shrank slightly, as if he had thought of something, and his tone suddenly sank: "You don't want to include those people from the Cultural Committee..."

Before he finished speaking, Xia Xiu raised his left hand, put his index finger to his lips, and made a gesture to keep quiet.

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

"How could I possibly attack my 'allies'... It's just that the people of Red Branch and the people of Liberation Hoofbeats are more anxious than me."

Turles' heart skipped a beat, and his expression suddenly became serious.

The fourth sword-wielding man in the Kingdom of Heaven was looking at the rain curtain, his tone still calm, but with a kind of chilling calmness.

Just like the tuner in the inner world.

"I never recommend playing within a limited scope, on a chessboard..."

"Play chess in the dark."

……

……