"We demand freedom, we demand equality!"
"We demand power, we demand wealth!"
" Pale God must compensate us for all our losses and repay all our wealth!"
Unaware of the impending doom, the once wealthy class formed a massive demonstration, chanting slogans and banners fluttering in the air like colorful butterflies.
The area around the newly rebuilt Pale Holy See resounded with noise, and some even shouted towards the Pale God's bedroom, hoping to attract the attention of the cowardly Pale God.
Their plan has clearly succeeded.
As time passed, their shouts grew louder and more unified.
And finally, in the distance, the figures of a group of missionaries dressed in pale robes came into view.
"See, James? I told you so! This Pale God will give in! Because this is our will, he can't go against the entire city! He needs our help to fight against the Southern Continent!"
"Just as I thought, this Pale God is actually so cowardly and pathetic!"
"Could we take this opportunity to demand more? For example, preferential policies, or even wrest power from him again?"
Two people were talking in the marching demonstration, blending in inconspicuously into the crowd, making it impossible to tell that they were one of the organizers of the demonstration.
Human greed was also clearly revealed in their conversation.
Their demands remain unresolved, yet the Pale Holy See response has fueled even greater desires.
"You're such a fool, James. You have to eat meat one bite at a time! We can't just show up and start digging up the roots of this Pale God. We have to express our demands little by little."
This time, all we want is our past wealth, or even just to escape this slavery!
"Quick, take this paper to the leader in front and tell them to strictly follow the requirements on this paper. Damn it, these are requirements that Mr. Wayne and his men have already planned. If they don't follow Mr. Wayne's ideas, then they can prepare to die!" Jason handed the speech to James.
They are still not the ultimate leaders of this protest; the real leaders are still working hard in the factory.
Real capital always comes fully prepared. They can't be sure what the outcome of this protest will be, so they don't show up themselves at all, but simply arrange for others to do it.
In this way, if the demonstration is successful, they will also be liberated.
If they fail, they won't be in trouble.
Although the wealthy people of Sak City have now been reduced to slaves, it must be said that they were truly capable of becoming capitalists and rulers.
For example, Mr. Wayne, one of the real instigators behind this protest, had already built up a class system within his factory in just a few months.
He amassed a large number of slaves to serve him, and the benefits he bestowed upon them were the ability to use the power he had built to coerce other slaves into working for his subordinates... It must be said that although this method was extremely simple, it was indeed effective.
As Jason and James talked, Abraham, who had gathered a large group of pale missionaries in the distance, finally walked slowly towards them.
He was covered with a thick black coat, and someone was holding a black umbrella over his head to shield him from the sun.
Groups of missionaries dressed in pure white, carrying firearms, appeared simultaneously on both sides of the street, encircling and intermingling the hundreds or thousands of demonstrators.
Despite being confronted with firearms, the protesters remained unfazed.
They were all wealthy, and although they held high positions of power in their past lives, they all shared a common flaw: they adhered to certain rules within their circles, such as not using guns or directly murdering each other.
This long-standing custom has placed a shackle on their minds, leading them to believe that this Pale God would not actually kill anyone for his own purposes and power!
Furthermore, years of slandering the Pale God have instilled in them a sense of contempt for Him.
James and Jason were even more so, laughing and teasing each other.
"Look, James, look! Look at that old guy at the front of the line, that's Abraham, the servant of the Pale God. Oh, I'm sure he'll be telling us to scatter right now!"
James and Jason laughed heartily, mingling among the crowd of demonstrators, watching with smirks as the missionaries on both sides of the street raised their guns and aimed them.
"Hahaha, look at them, now they're even trying to intimidate us! This is exactly the kind of tactic we use most often! I bet he'll start by firing shots to scare us, and then gradually lower the standards on both sides..."
Jason, as expected of a former official of the Holy Empire government, was a master of this kind of coercion and enticement.
Sure enough, the moment after he spoke, a gunshot rang out.
"Bang bang bang..."
The rapid-fire gunshots rang out like firecrackers, and the pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air, but the muzzles of the guns were not pointed upwards.
"Aaaaaah!!!"
As the gunshots faded, piercing screams erupted from the crowd.
The entire crowd fell to the ground like straws under the gunfire, and the smell of blood and the bright red of crimson sprayed onto the street almost simultaneously.
But the next moment, gunshots rang out again!
Jason had just been so confident of victory, was stunned. With one gunshot after another ringing out and a tingling sensation running through his legs, he finally snapped out of his daze and looked down blankly.
His once perfectly healthy legs were now riddled with bullet holes!
The next moment, a scream rang out from his mouth.
"Aaaaaah!!!"
Beside him, James, whose legs had both been shot and severed on the spot, cried out in agony, "Mr. Jason, this isn't what you expected!"