readx;? I saw him toiling and carrying the goods onto the canal ships for the boss. www.biquge.info He couldn't see his miserable life at all, and thought that such treatment should belong to brute force laborers. If he hadn't told the clown in the box that he was a toy, he would have thought he was the eternal king of infinite space.

So I went to enlighten him, trying to untie the shackles of his ignorance.

So I asked him, "Where do you get paid?" and he replied, "It's from your boss."

So where does the boss's money come from?

He replied, doing business to earn.

But is the boss the only one doing the business? Countless laborers are involved in this business, and in the end, only the boss is the boss who fills his wallet.

Wealthy owners and shareholders naturally contribute to the investment of the business, and they deserve dividends. But is the sweat of the laborers less than the penny of the shareholders' investment? In the end, the laborers only get a fair share of the oil and water from the boss. The poor, who do not have access to higher education, are forever confined to the lowest level of economic production. The boss aristocrats who own assets rely on their own capital to loot social wealth over and over again.

In the end, such a society can only be left with darkness and nothing else......

Blake Grantham listened to the prisoner's chatter, his glazed eyes telling him anything that came to mind, no matter how small. Ever since Samuel's puzzling hypnosis, the guy hasn't stopped talking. Samuel told him to say what he wanted to say, maybe he would reveal some secrets, and now he was not hypnotic, and asking him sensitive questions would probably relieve him of his hypnotic state.

Samuel Wesley was a mage and had a penchant for illusion hypnosis. For him, it is a unique pleasure to dissect one's brain. Hearing that James might be able to use his talent here, he left his unimportant business behind and visited Black's dungeon. He did not bring any "professional" equipment, but after a brief explanation of his intentions, he briefly examined the mental condition of the two prisoners.

He decided to cut the prisoner first, who had not been brutally interrogated, and Samuel could see in the prisoner's eyes the overwhelmed fear, which swept away his determination to resist early. The prisoner made small movements with his handcuffed fingers, not knowing whether it was a personal custom or some religious ritual. When he did, the fear in his eyes became much less.

The prisoner's eyes swept to Samuel, and he watched as the well-dressed nobleman looked as if he had been stuffed into a gorgeous cardboard box, his expression as indestructible as the indentations in his clothes. No matter how you look at it, you want to think of a porcelain artwork, not the kind of dirt that can fall out of the slag. He locked all the details on his body, and along with his secrets, hid them in the emblematic costume.

He always has a smile on his face and looks very kind at first glance. But he never made any other expressions, and after looking at it for a long time, it would make people shudder to react that this person was actually a cold monster. The smile is the bait that grows above the monster's head, attracting innocent little fish to his mouth.

After just a few glances, the prisoner did not dare to continue staring at him.

"Mr. Rostam is it?" Samuel finally said, "Let's talk." ”

The prisoner turned his eyes squarely at Samuel, trying to steady his wandering gaze.

"Rostam, as far as I know, you're a stonemason. Samuel said.

"Yes. The prisoner said in a young voice: "My father was a stonemason, so I am also a stonemason." ”

"I admire the stonemasons. Samuel said, "Personally, stonemasonry is a great trade. Long before the advent of empires, stonemasons built many great buildings that stand to this day. Those things require a great deal of math, knowledge of mechanics, and engineering on how to make things as fast as possible. Historically, it is disrespectful to call them stonemasons, and they should be called architects. ”

"I don't make anything that big. Rostam said.

"But can you make it?" "The people who can be absorbed by the Tongmasons are all knowledgeable, "so I'll call you Mr. Architect, okay?"

Rostam is a pseudonym, and it is difficult to ensure the authority of the hypnotist's words if hypnosis is started with this name, and authority is the only possibility of hypnosis in this case, so Samuel gave him a code name.

"It's all up to you. Rostam said.

"Tell me, Mr. Architect. Which hand do you use when you're working?" Samuel asked.

Rostam didn't understand, "What?"

"I ask you, which hand are you used to?" Samuel repeated.

Rostam's eyes flickered, and he didn't wait for him to speak. Samuel instructed the jailer to hold down his left hand and press his five fingers against the table, his nails leaving marks on the wooden tabletop.

"Mr. Architect, let's play a game. Samuel snapped, "Do you want to keep your left hand?" ”

Samuel pulled out the dagger from his waist and thrust it into the table between his fingers. For a moment, the architect was too frightened to speak, and his big pant was replaced by a frightened breath hold.

"Obedient, Mr. Architect. Samuel whispered in his ear, and the prisoner froze......

Begin to follow Samuel's instructions and tell everything that is in your mind. From the work of the Freemasons, to how I hate Dolly's forgetfulness. Samuel didn't know how these things were related, or if they were chronological. Maybe something didn't happen at all, but the prisoner filled in the event with his mind in a trance, like our intermittent dreams.

At this time, the architect, who had told half the story, began to talk about the giants in the sky and the rat chef in the castle...... The things he said became more and more out of tune, annoying Blake, "Mr. Samuel, you didn't come to drive him crazy, did you?"

Samuel explains, "Hypnosis is a technique, not a machine that breaks down gates. For those who are resistant, I think this is the limit. ”

Ignoring Samuel's words, Blake grabbed the prisoner's collar and asked, "What are the Freemasons planning?"

But he still spoke to himself, and said exactly what the big man in front of him was full of anger.

"The minions of the empire tried to force me to tell the secrets of the organization with violence, but I didn't say it...... I don't say...... I don't say...... His face was furious, his crimson face was bruised, and beads of sweat were about to drip down his forehead. Those beads of sweat...... A drop of sweat would break a bone in me, and I should be glad it was still hanging on his head instead of rushing to the ground recklessly...... He was questioning me, like I had done something unreasonable. All I have done is for the sake of the light, to spread the light to the Rant, to bring the light that rises from the east ......" said the architect, "these demons, demons. They want to resist the light, resist the light......"

"Why didn't he listen to me?" Blake asked, letting go of his collar.

Samuel said to Blake, "Because I led him into hypnosis, I gave him the name Architect." ”

"Then ask him some important questions!"

"We can't do that. Samuel said, "Something that goes against the subjective will of the hypnotized person will cause him to immediately withdraw from hypnosis." ”

"So we're just listening to his nonsense?" said Blake, "I shouldn't have wasted my time if I had known that I might have done anything if I pulled out a few of his nails." ”

"It won't be too long to waste, Sir Black. Samuel looked at the architect for a moment and said, "Tomorrow he will spit out all the secrets." ”

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