Claude probably belongs to the kind of devout profession who always forgets his responsibilities and has fanatical beliefs about work. The task he asked Lin Xiang to perform with him was indeed very dangerous - follow Major Osvid's route to enter the Ruins of No. 96, and find the reason why the major and his combat squad were destroyed.

There was no road in the wilderness, and the wide and strong rubber tires were crushed through the cracked ground mixed with sand and stone, and a gray-white parallel rut appeared.

Lin Xiang never thought of participating in the search for Osvid. In his opinion, this was as incredible as the murderer turning into a policeman and actively looking for the corpse buried by himself. However, things in the world are so wonderful. The more incredible and irreconcilable assumptions are, the more likely it is to transform into reality.

Perhaps, this is the most significant difference between that era that has been destroyed and the radiation world!

The burly Cloud stood at the top of the armored vehicle, holding up the tactical telescope with both hands, like a straight saber, firmly inserted into the black painted deck. He may not be handsome, but he has a sense of awesome calmness and restrainedness in his body, and only radiates from the depths of his eyes will faintly emit fierce fighting spirit.

In the distance ahead, you can see the line composed of countless gray buildings, with varying heights and unevenness. Their names marked on the map of the Skeleton Knights are Ruins No. 96.

After observing for a long time, the lieutenant colonel put down his telescope and in a plain and unquestionable tone, he ordered the soldiers waiting beside him: "Everyone formed a defensive battle formation and prepared to enter-"

No one noticed that in the carriage of the second armored vehicle, Lin Xiang, who was sitting alone in the seat of the rear of the car, suddenly had a strange smile with a slight impulse on the corner of his mouth.

"What kind of evolutionary effect will a five-star parasite's blood bring? Haha... it's really exciting..."

In front of the entrance to the southwest of Galgasone Castle, there is a wide avenue paved with pebbles. Both sides of the road are covered with dense branches and leaves, which are neatly trimmed and form a slightly round slope towards the pebbled pavement. In the center of the green belt, a tall tree similar to the cedar in the old era is planted side by side. The black branches have changed from narrow to wider from top to bottom, forming a vault to cover the entire driveway. The golden sunlight sprinkles from the staggered gaps of the branches, leaving a mottled spot of light of different sizes on the dark road surface.

On the clearings next to the main house, there are more than a dozen four-wheeled carriages with strong classical styles. The ubiquitous radiation has changed the direction of horses' evolution. Compared with the ancestors of the old era, the horses are now taller and more sensitive to distinguish directions. As the basis for survival in the wilderness, they even evolved sharp teeth that can tear up carnivorous. But this does not mean abandoning the old planting habits. On the contrary, in order to avoid the extinction of population caused by hunger, they are forced to change their diet, and have the dual characteristics of eating plants and tearing meat. Sharp horns with a length of more than half a meter have also evolved on both sides of the head. There is no definite evidence that this strange creature prefers which food, but one thing is certain - in order to survive, they eat everything like refugees walking in the wilderness.

From the perspective of time, today is obviously not a day for a summer dance or a cold picnic. However, all members of the Luton family gathered in the main conference hall on the second floor of the castle.

At the end of the table that is more than ten meters long, Bergson Luton, who is thin, is wearing a handmade white silk shirt, sitting indifferently on a heavy high-backed oak chair, looking coldly at the wall at the other end of the table.

On the left side of the long table, there were more than a dozen men sitting scattered, and on the right, there were relatively few women. The age ranges from twenty-five to sixty years old. Young people have some frivolous frivolity and arrogance on their faces. Although the elderly have less impulsiveness and vitality, they show more cunning and calculating.

This is the collective council of the Luton family. Under normal circumstances, most of them will only be held at the end of the year or when major matters are decided. The participants are all leaders or important figures of the Luton family. They may have poor character and bad deeds, but they all have commendable business philosophy and special talents, combined with their common surnames and blood ties, so they can be qualified to sit next to this table.

Bergson does have a commendable talent for business as the chief in charge of family affairs. In less than four years after taking over as the head of the family, Sosbia's direct control area expanded by 36%, and obtained the operating rights of two mines from other companies through mergers. More than 1,100 new armed personnel from the family were added, and the average annual income quota increased rapidly at a considerable rate of 6%.

The merchant is probably the most peculiar creature on earth.

They may not understand the mood, have no cultivation, and know nothing about poetry, songs, music and painting, but they will show unusual fanaticism and sensitivity to numbers, especially data related to money. Members of the Luton family are no exception - many of them believe that learning is a boring and extremely boring thing. However, they are proficient in arithmetic. Even if it is a complex and profound problem, once they are entangled with money, they will immediately search the simplest and most effective calculation method in their minds to solve it. Therefore, on the issue of major issues such as the growth rate of annual income, most people unanimously believe that Bergson, who can bring the greatest benefits on their own, is the best leader in the family affairs.

The conference room was quiet, and everyone's eyes were looking at Bergson sitting on the top. This dull atmosphere seemed to make him feel very satisfied. A slightly calm smile appeared on his face, which was as stereotyped as rocks.

He patted his hands gently, and the close-fitting male servant standing beside him bowed in a standard etiquette posture. He then quickly walked to the entrance of the hall, opened the empty door hard, and made a gesture to the person waiting outside. A few minutes later, two tall male servants pushed a metal cage with pulleys at the bottom and an inverted triangle-shaped appearance slowly walked in.

The height of the cage is about two meters, and four thick copper support tubes firmly fix the iron cage from different directions. The square cover on the top is locked, leaving only a circular hole that can accommodate the thickness of an adult's neck in the center. More than a dozen sharp metal thorns are vertically upright at the bottom of the triangular cage, painted with grease, and the surface of the sharp thorn tip used to prevent rust reflects countless heart-shaking cold light.

The naked Gliffiz stood in the center of the iron cage. The hole in the top cover stuck his throat tightly. The gap between the skin and the edge of the hole was only about half a centimeter. There was no problem with breathing, but it was obviously impossible to escape from it.

There is no place for both hands to climb and support, and the leg muscles that remain half-curved for a long time can easily become sore and weak. Staying in this cage is more painful than being directly tortured. Gliffiz's face is scary, his mouth is wide open like a waterless fish, and his short and thick legs covered with hair are trembling like sieve crumbs. It can be seen that he really wants to change a more comfortable movement to replace his current position. But he doesn't want to die, and he can only fight for this weak safe distance between the two possible threats of suffocation and body piercing.

Bergson looked at the poor prisoner who was dying with satisfaction, and tapped his fingers with his fingers, drawing everyone's eyes. He looked around and said in a calm tone: "As we all know, everything the Luton family has today comes from hard sweat and loyal character. Manager Glifiz is the best manager of Sosbia. Out of trust, I entrust him with a whole city. Unfortunately, he failed my expectations for him and chose to cooperate with the enemy of Sosbia, sell the interests of the company, deceive the superiors and subordinates. This shameless behavior must be punished. Today's issue - please vote for family members, and which method should be used to execute this despicable traitor?"

No one answered, no one spoke. The conference room was extremely quiet.

Bergson looked at both sides of the table in confusion, wondering that the family members would react like this. Under normal circumstances, this often means opposition or hesitation. If it is related to interests, he can fully understand it. However, the content of the topic only determines the punishment of an outsider... What does the cold situation mean?

After a while, a man in his fifties spoke first: "Bergson, I don't want to question your talents or your ability to judge things. Since it is a collective council, I just want to mention my own point of view. When it comes to the issue of Yinyue Town, Gliffiz did hide some facts and violated the trade blockade plan you have formulated. But it was just a trivial mistake, and it was OK to punish it slightly. If it were to talk about the death penalty... it seemed too much."

Bergson's face showed a little surprise, and then quickly turned into a slight redness caused by anger. He leaned forward and deliberately slowed down his tone: "Uncle Morris, what you said just now surprised me. Everything has a reason. Since you don't agree to the execution of this traitor, can you tell me the reason?"

"The reason is simple-Gliffiz is not a traitor."

Morris said seriously: "I checked the transaction records. The batch of food sold by Glifiz to Yinyue Town is not on the company's goods list. In other words, those materials are not Sosbia's property. Naturally, there is no charge of selling the interests of the company. For a transaction that has nothing to do with the Luton family, the best regional manager in Sosbia will be executed. Haha! Don't you think it's too much?"

Stubborn!

This word flashed subconsciously in Bergson's mind. He instinctively attributed Morris's behavior to being dissatisfied with himself. Thinking of this, the anger on his face calmed down, and he asked slowly with a cold smile: "Dear Uncle Morris, I have to admit that your judging standards of things are indeed a bit special."

"This has nothing to do with the judgment standard, I'm just seeking truth from facts-"

Morris took a deep breath, looking into Bergson's eyes as if he had made a major decision and said, "That batch of food is Gliffiz's private property. Although Hidden Moon Town stands opposite Sosbia, this does not prevent Gliffiz from having friendship and connection with one of them. I admit that what he did did indeed destroy the interests and plans of the company. However, in the final analysis, it was only his private behavior. Gliffiz still insisted on his loyalty to Sosbia. It was not difficult to understand this issue, just like two young people who loved each other, because their forces were hostile to each other and could not be together. They could only secretly meet in private and exchange small gifts or other things. No one could condemn or punish their actions. Gliffiz... the same is true."

Bergson's face turned pale and he stared at Morris. Suddenly, he laughed without any warning: "I really didn't expect that Uncle Morris would have such a fraternal side. Humph! As you say, did Gliffiz do such an unwise move because he was attracted to the butt of the young man in Yinyue Town?"

"Maybe the other party is interested in Gliffiz." Morris nodded without changing his face: "Although Gliffiz is very fat, he is very cute. If I were a woman, I would also like him. This sentence seems to be a bit off topic. I want to reiterate my point of view - Gliffiz did not commit a crime, at most he had some minor mistakes. It is okay to add a slight punishment, but it will not be executed."

"This is not up to you to decide-"

Bergson sneered and turned around, staring at the area manager locked in the cage with a vicious look: "This fat pig must die. His actions have posed a threat to Sosbia's dignity. I want to peel off his skin and make it into a sofa. Uncle Morris, since you insist on speaking for this fat man, then vote according to the rules of the family council! If more than two-thirds of the family members here agree, then Glifiz can keep his head filled with fat and stupidity. If rejected...hehehehehe! As a punishment, all your income this year will be confiscated by the company and then distributed evenly to everyone here."

"I have no objection." Morris smiled and shrugged.

The voting process was far less intense than the debate. The members of the Luton family expressed an unusual indifference to this. Except for three or four people, they directly abstained, and the rest of the members had casual expressions on their faces, all raised their right hands to express their approval.

Bergson was stunned.

"Are you... are you all crazy?" Bergson looked at an obese old woman sitting on her right head in disbelief: "Aunt Beve, you, why are you..."

"My dear nephew, murder is too violent. You should indeed listen to Morris's opinion on this matter." The old woman took out a silk handkerchief from somewhere and wiped the corners of her mouth as if she was so cute.

"What about you? Uncle Eberner?" Bergson, who felt something was wrong, turned to the other side again.

"Gliffiz is a good man, he should be treated fairly. Bergson, look for another piece of new material for your sofa! For example, those mobs in the wilderness have their skins that are suitable." Abner smiled faintly, and said clearly enough.

Bergson was completely like falling into a mist.

Obviously, this is a premeditated calculation.

If all the family members united to oppose it, can they continue to sit in the seat of the head of the family? Thinking of this, Bergson felt chilled.

He suddenly realized that those relatives who seemed to be able to settle with money seemed not as simple as they seemed.

But why did they try their best to save Gliffiz?

Just a district manager, as for it?

Bergson couldn't figure it out...

The underground prison in Galgassoni Castle is dark and dark. The dirty and smelly cells are filled with disgusting little bugs and rotting maggots.

Sitting on a pile of hay that was obviously new, Gliffiz, who was released from the prison cart, sat cross-legged on the soft grass chop, holding a large piece of oily braised pork legs, and gnawing vigorously. The weather was very hot, and he was too lazy to wear clothes. The thick lard slowly dripped from the meat piece, slowly sliding down the half-protruding meat tube on his lower body, shiny. It moistened his skin, but polluted the eyes of the bystander.

"It seems that the food here seems to be very suitable for your appetite?" Otilia, dressed in black, hugged her hands in front of her chest and looked at him coldly through the all-steel fence as thick as an arm.

"If you have been hungry for three days, you will think the leftover rice mixed in the shit is delicious." The fat regional manager only cares about eating, but his words are a famous saying.
Chapter completed!