The Meyers Textile Factory, built by the water, is a behemoth that covers an area of 15 hectares and employs nearly 1,500 contract workers, and there are 80 rolling brick factories with transparent skylights alone.

But in the opinion of the miserly Daun Hayes, he was paid far more than the hired men, who wanted to be lazy all the time, so it was necessary to have enough overseers with leather whips to urge the employees not to slack off, and whenever they found someone lazy or dozing off in the factory, the smiling overseer would wave the whip and whip it to dispel all the laziness in them.

As a result, contract workers in the Meyers textile mill, especially those who had made a dead contract because of debt, often did not drink a sip of water, so that they did not have to go to the toilet, and they ate at the speed of running, or ate as they walked, and did not dare to leave their fixed position for a moment.

In the evening, in order to prevent expensive yarn from being carried out of the factory, every employee, male or female, was subjected to a comprehensive inspection by the supervisor, and the possession of silk thread was a crime that could be equated with theft, and they were to be lynched without trial in the circuit court.

A lighter one is the 'water room', soaked in hot water from the burning of the feet, which is the waste water from which the silk threads are dyed, and the people who are not dead are dyed with ink blue all over their bodies, and they are called 'Smurfs' by Mr. Meyers.

The blue color could not be washed away without a special potion, so the 'thieves' who could not stand the strange looks of others would often end their lives and turn into undead spirits and roar at Meyers in his room.

The heavier punishment was the dog devouring, which is said to be characteristic of the southern manor owners, and was used by Meyers first. Because the scene was so bloody, no one dared to preside over such lynchings, except for a few overseers. Even after seeing it once, he had to raise his hand to cover his eyes, and in a pretended to shed a crocodile tear of sympathy, and sign his name in such executions afterwards.

In a way, the hard-hearted Workshop Owner, Mr. Dawn Meyers, was more ruthless than the manor he despised, and went even further, but he was well disguised, and with the support of the merchants' association, no one could help him.

However, Mr. Meyers now lost his seat as a senior member, and as a result of the assassination of Mr. Ogden Norton, he was isolated by his friends and friends who had been very talkative, competitors were defeated, and the banks were slow to apply for loans against him, resulting in a growing drain of liquidity, a sharp deterioration in the otherwise well-functioning financial situation, and the fact that he had to sell several properties at a low price to alleviate the lack of funds.

As if smelling the death in the bones of a dying lion, the vulture-like bankers stared at Dawn Meyers with blazing eyes, hoping to tear the luscious flesh out of his still rich inheritance 'after his death'.

The emaciated camel is bigger than a horse, not to mention that Mr. Meyers, who has been elected three times as a senior member, owns dozens of apartments, because of its good location, close to the Morgan district where rich merchants are concentrated, and the annual rent alone is not a small amount of money, and the textile mill under his name that continuously creates wealth every day, enough to fill the stomach bags of scavenging vultures, even if the scraps are cold, can satisfy the hyenas and jackals of the real estate merchants who follow them.

Rumors of Mr. Meyers' imminent bankruptcy have not yet reached the raw material suppliers, otherwise the upstarts with strong backgrounds would surely be the first to pounce and tear the lion's throat apart and drain all the sweet blood.

With a broken chain of funds and a total collapse, overinvestment depleted of liquidity, and bank loans to keep the factory running, Dawn Meyers finally got a taste of the bitter wine he brewed.

But as long as he survives the current limelight, he believes he can rise again, and even reclaim the seat that the cunning and despicable villain Ogden Norton has stolen. Although he had snatched the position from someone else, he had only gone beyond Sir Norton.

The road to the inner circle of the Merchants' Federation, which is not paved with the flesh and blood of the losers, with their tear-soaked bones to build a seat for senior members, henceforth calling for wind and rain without anyone in their eyes.

It is true that, when he was still in a high position, Mr. Meyers did not even take the Earl of Eastwood seriously, and always ignored the weaving of fine fabrics purchased by his commercial agents, and was proud of embarrassing the noble Earl and even losing his face. So when the despicable assassination occurred, Cedar Bank was the first to reject his loan application, which caused a domino effect.

When Dawn Meyers learned the cause of the incident through his scholarly friends, he did not blame himself for himself, but resented that the bank in the name of the Earl of Eastwood not only did not save him, but was the first to stand up and push the wall. Now that the wall is shaky and the foundations are beginning to be shaky, if it can't withstand this evil wind, Meyers will probably be buried, just like his rivals have overturned.

If there really is a day, Dawn Meyers' friends and associates will never lend a hand, and will even take advantage of the once friendly relationship to rush forward to carve up his property.

This is the true face of the merchants' federation, which is a harmonious mess on the surface, fighting to the death in private, and is also the essence of these selfish businessmen.

Now Mr. Meyers was lying on the bed and sleeping peacefully, hoping that tomorrow would be better, and the senior mercenary mantis brothers outside the room were lying bored in the corner and in the doorway, each other in sight, with a thick flannel under them, their eyes half-closed and half-closed, and their recuperation spirits were lying there to sleep.

After surviving the long night, their spirits could not relax for a moment, and the intuition of the veteran mercenaries made them smell the danger that was approaching. However, this is exactly what the Mantis brothers wanted, and only blood and death can defeat the assassins who covet the lives of their employers, knowing that they are the trump cards of the mercenary guild.

Using the Shadow Blade to easily deal with the three barking dogs, Musk quietly entered the Meyers Textile Mill, sneaking all the way past the open-air cafeteria, and gradually approaching the innermost brick pile, like a watchtower, where Dawn Meyers worked and rested.

The Mantis Brothers are mercenaries hired by the greedy Mr. Meyers, but there are a number of overseers under him, and they are scattered near the 'watchtower'. A few night watchmen lit a bonfire to keep warm, drank hot liquor, and spent their second best time on slices of burnt bread and sausages.

The best thing is always to wield a leather whip to teach lazy hirelings, to look at their resentful eyes but have no power to resist, to humbly endure the humiliation and painful torture of the physical and mental destruction, which can make them feel the superiority of the whole body as if they were overpowered, and have become a kind of addiction that penetrates deep into the blood and even the bone marrow.

Looking at the manpower layout that faintly formed a line of defense, even a veteran thief who walked in the darkness, and now turned into an assassin with a will for revenge, had to say hello.

If it weren't for the severance of the organization's ties and the lack of intelligence sources, I would have been able to clearly understand the details of the inside of the watchtower, and now I can only rely on myself. ’

Sneaking into the shadows to the corner of the factory, Musk's intact left hand pressed on it and squeezed it hard, and a few more pieces of gravel immediately appeared in his palm.

Pressed against his index finger and flicked his thumb hard, the gravel jumped high and fell to the ground not far from the campfire.

There was a "snap", and the crisp sound seemed a little harsh in the silent night. However, the overseers who were already drunk did not take it seriously at all, only a strong man who had drunk too much couldn't help but take a few more looks, and staggered up, everyone thought that he wanted to check, but who knew that the strong man just wanted to find a convenient place.

'Opportunity!'

Marsk watched as the man strode towards him, grasping the gap in the masonry with his left hand, and climbed to the height of a man several times, closing his eyes and waiting for him to pass.

The strong man was still thinking about the taste of warm spirits, and he didn't go far, he leaned sideways against the corner of the wall and began to release water, and pleasantly spit out a long breath of wine.

The cold wind blew, and he shivered, and at this moment, he rode on the corner of the wall with his legs, hanging upside down from head to foot, his left hand covering the strong man's mouth, and the shadow blade of his right hand slid quickly across his throat, stabbing the man in the middle and left of the chest.

The "hiss......" violently spurted blood echoed in the ears, and the crisp sound was like the first morning breeze blowing through the young leaves of the treetops in the forest. All the voices of the strong man were blocked in his mouth, and his body trembled violently like a dead leaf in the wind, and he was a little curled up because of the wound on his heart.

"Why did Gibb go for so long and haven't come back, it can't be because of the drink. Kerr, go over and see if he's asleep. The gray-haired middle-aged man in the lead of the overseers wiped his thick beard with his greasy right hand, and the young man whose name he called muttered that he would not go, until his face was lowered, and then he struggled to get up unhappily.

Leaving the warm campfire and coming to the dimly lit factory nearby, Kerr looked up and saw Gibb leaning against the corner, with a rickety body, and a familiar voice came from him, he was a little amused, "You haven't finished it for so long?"

He took two more steps forward, originally trying to scare Gibb, but the night wind blowing in the corner of the wall sent a strong bloody breath, Kerton realized the danger, and wanted to turn around and escape from the danger, but Musk, who jumped out of the dark corner, was willing to let go of the prey sent to the door, and the shadow blade in his right hand flashed, and launched a smug backstab.

"Whoa!" a shadow blade burst out of Kerr's chest, and Musk took the man's life with a single move.

The stiff and tense overseer was pulled backwards by the force of the knife, and Musk, who didn't want to be discovered in advance, could only resist the corpse and prepare to put it down slowly.

Suddenly, he remembered his father's shadow puppetry. He put the soles of his feet on the heels of the deceased, wrapped his hands around the opponent's arms, and manipulated the corpse to staggering towards the campfire.

"Why are you coming back now?, Gibb?" saw Kerr, who had gone and returned, returning alone, and the head of the overseer, who was drunk and dizzy, carelessly ignored the young man's wrong way of walking.

'Chance!' Musk pushed the corpse forward so hard that it overwhelmed the bonfire, and the dim light of the fire, which had no one to add firewood, had no chance to sway, and was extinguished in an instant, only a puff of sparks rose to both sides, not revealing the Assassin's figure, but causing the nearby overseers to scramble the flames burning everywhere on their bodies.

If the hunter is lucky, even the IQ of the prey will drop.

Muskezi's severed right hand once again extended its sharp shadow blade, striking at the unsuspecting overseers, backstabbing, backstabbing, backstabbing, and the left hand was like a boneless poisonous snake, launching a shadow attack, and the shadow that passed through the body could tear the internal organs of ordinary people who had no power to resist to shreds.

In the flash of lightning, the seven overseers in the prime of life were sent by Musk to be the companions of Gibb and Kerr, and they did not react to the drunken and supperal meals, and hurriedly ended their short lives.

"Murderous!" the praying mantis brothers opened their eyes at the same time, one guarding the doorway with a serrated knife in both hands, and the other came out through the door, grasping the gap in the masonry with both hands, and moved several times to the windowsill of Dawn Meyers' room.