The air in Belobog's Lower District was thick like congealed grease, heavily pressing down on every inch of space.
It was mixed with the pungent smell of cheap fuel and the rusty scent of aged metal.
Now that the crowd had gathered, there was also a heavy smell of sweat.
The boy with the iron arm, Luka, moved through the crowd, trying to persuade them to leave.
Unfortunately, no one listened.
"Damn it, why won't anyone listen to me?"
Luka was frantic, so he had no choice but to retreat and seek help from his master.
Just as he retreated behind the crowd, he saw his master was also busy.
"Hey! Kid, hurry back! This isn't the place for you!"
Oleg grabbed a young man by the collar and shouted sternly.
"Uncle Oleg, I want to participate!" The young man glared and declared loudly, "The new Supreme Guardian saved us and let me see the sky again; he is my benefactor! He wants to use the earth marrow to build a new home, but those metal men stole the earth marrow! I must help the Supreme Guardian reclaim the earth marrow!"
"Nonsense!" Oleg pointed at the young man's nose and cursed, "Did you see Svarog steal the ore?"
"I didn't see it!" The young man retorted defiantly, "Then how do you explain the earth marrow piled up at the entrance?"
As he said.
The miners dug a lot of ore every day, and the robots participated in the ore transportation work.
It would indeed be easy to steal the ore, and there were dozens of pounds of earth marrow piled near the iron gate.
But Oleg absolutely did not believe Svarog would commit theft.
Because everything it did was out in the open.
If Svarog truly needed that much ore, it would simply come and ask for it, list a large number of incomprehensible calculation results, and then move it away openly; no one could stop it.
Theft? That was completely impossible.
Of course, this conclusion was based on Oleg's familiarity with Svarog.
Most other people rarely interacted with Svarog, so they did not understand its style of operation.
With so many people claiming Svarog committed theft, combined with the frame-up, it caused many indecisive people to agree.
Oleg tossed the young man aside and sighed helplessly.
It was clearly a crude method of framing, which would certainly not cause trouble in the Upper District, yet it was highly effective in this culturally backward Lower District.
"Perhaps some people aren't failing to see through it; they're just going along with the flow."
At this moment, Natasha appeared behind Oleg. She said coldly, "Back then, Svarog forcibly sealed off the exit and used force to suppress many people. It was too overbearing, and certainly many people were dissatisfied with it but had to compromise due to the pressure of survival."
"Now that Oliver has liberated the world and the survival crisis has disappeared, coupled with Oliver giving the management rights to humans instead of robots, some people feel they can take this opportunity for revenge."
Oleg had a look of sudden realization. "It seems I was thinking too narrowly."
"That's normal. After all, humans always like to paint their malice in a righteous light."
Sampo appeared before the two of them with a playful smile on his face.
Bang!
Suddenly, a cannon barrel was pointed directly at Sampo's face.
Natasha raised the cannon, once again displaying her usual inscrutable smile: "You dare show your face to me? I was looking for you. Was it you who taught Hook to find me a husband?"
Sampo immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Let's talk this out. My mistake, my mistake. It was just a joke to amuse a child; how can you take it seriously? Besides, she hasn't actually found you a husband yet. Just treat it as playing house, hehe."
As soon as the word 'husband' was mentioned, Oliver's smiling face appeared in Natasha's mind.
She had looked, but it hadn't worked out yet.
"Don't let there be a next time."
Natasha put away the cannon and replied coldly.
Sampo was an unpredictable character, and Natasha knew well that she couldn't easily turn hostile toward him.
In any case, disciplining Hook had provided some satisfaction.
"Now, let's continue persuading the ignorant ones to leave," Natasha said solemnly. "As for the others with ulterior motives, we will wait for that esteemed adult to arrive personally."
That esteemed adult?
Luka's eyes suddenly lit up, and he asked Natasha, "Is it—is it the adult Oliver who liberated the Lower District? Has he really come here? Can I meet him?"
The barrage of questions overwhelmed Natasha, making her feel dizzy. She could only smile and say, "Luka, I know you admire him, but stay rational and focus on solving the current problem first."
Luka nodded vigorously.
That day, Oliver appeared in the Lower District, conquering everyone with his powerful strength, and he also conquered this boy with the iron arm.
Oleg was his master, his former number one idol.
Now, his number one idol was Oliver.
Just thinking about Oliver coming here personally made him excited.
"Brothers! Do you see clearly?! These tin shells! They have no heart! No lungs! They don't even need to breathe our filthy air!"
"They are stealing the earth marrow, trying to hinder our progress toward building a new era!"
"There is only one way to defeat a powerful enemy, and that is to plunge ahead without hesitation! For the new era of Belobog!"
Just then, someone in the crowd raised their arms and shouted.
Torches were lit! One, two, ten... hundreds! The flickering, greedy flames reflected a frantic light in countless bloodshot eyes.
Rusty iron rods, heavy wrenches, sharpened steel bars... everything that could be grasped became a weapon.
The crowd was no longer scattered individuals, but transformed into a hot, boiling torrent of metal and flesh, burning with hatred, reeking of heavy sweat and cheap fuel, surging forward with a frenzied will to crush everything, crowding together.
Just then, a burning trajectory, accompanied by the sound of wind, suddenly shot out from an indistinguishable corner behind the crowd!
It was a Molotov cocktail hastily made from rags and cheap fuel; the flame at the mouth roared as it flew, tracing a brief, dazzling arc in the air.
"Bang—Crash!"
The glass bottle violently shattered against the large iron gate!
The viscous, burning liquid instantly splashed open, and greedy tongues of fire frantically licked the cold metal, producing a sizzling, scorching sound.
Bright flames shot up violently, instantly enveloping a large area!
Thick, black smoke, carrying a pungent chemical odor, billowed upwards!
The crowd erupted in a beastly roar of ecstatic cheers! Fire! It was burning!
Clara was terrified.
She had never experienced a scene like this.
Looking at the heat wave coming from the entrance, Clara tightly gripped Svarog's coat hem.
"Mr. Svarog, I—I will go talk to them. I can clear up the misunderstanding."
Although she was very afraid, Clara still wanted to steel herself and face thousands of people to protect her family.
After all, she was the only human here.
Whoosh!
Just then, a Molotov cocktail flew over the iron gate.
Its trajectory was perfectly standard; if nothing went wrong, it would land right on Clara and Svarog.
Just then, an indifferent voice sounded from all directions.
"What? Did I kill too few people, making you think I am merciful?"