"Crack--"

The sound of hard pages of the speechbook being turned from the stage, and the crowd listened with breath.

“A lot of things have happened in the past seven years.”

Mr. Wax looked down at the manuscript and looked up at the citizens.

"At the beginning, there was an unprecedented prosperity. Everyone's country is growing at an annual rate of more than ten percentage points; in Tiollein, the fire of civilization in the steam industry has reached a dazzling state, and a new dawn of the electrical age has appeared in the sky; refugees and criminals are decreasing; the rights and interests of labor are more guaranteed; we have demolished more than 7,000 slums and built 400 model factories, and children have obtained a more anticipated future on the assembly line than field work; more people enjoy the quality goods of the world's factories; the railway networks spread across the counties have continuously sent the people to their hoped far-reaching destinations at unimaginable speeds."

"However, the world doesn't seem to be significantly better."

"Especially from what happened later."

The clicking sound of page turning sounds started again.

"The festival to celebrate the harvest should not mention too much about depression, but they have happened there, large and small, and cannot be avoided."

"Some people have endured painful memories that are difficult to heal. They complain about fate and their anger towards managers for granted. Others are diligent in reflecting, good at summarizing, and have a sense of social responsibility. Their voices should also be encouraged."

Fanning held his hands in his chest, and his eyes fell on the copper sound cylinder and amplifier in the center of the ceremony.

What are you talking about this?

A huge flag with no wind on the back flies in the field of view.

“We accept the reality that ‘there are many people living in dissatisfaction or regret’. We must accept a huge management system that makes everything clear and regretful. When we realize that a person cannot understand the difficulty and risks of the organization considering problems, we always have equal apology and regrets for him—just like when we make decisions, we often ignore the individual’s feelings.”

"But, a confusion is also where I always think."

Mr. Wax raised his eyes again.

"Why are there always people complaining about freedom fading?"

Below were the audience looking at each other.

"When an opera house, or production workshop, is installed with fire curtains with specified parameters, and requires various strict fire protection regulations, they start to say that this is a confinement; when the municipal government slightly regulates the playing time of street artists and imposes fines on street graffitiers, they cry and shout that art is dead; when an excellent work hanging in a gallery, due to the tendency of mysticism, the word "persecution" immediately appears in the minds of the artists."

Mr. Wax sighed to express his regret.

"Censorship is not interrogation, freedom does not mean letting go."

"There is a difference in strength in this world. Friends, this is an objective fact. Rules are used to protect the weak in most cases."

The eyes on the wheelchair swept across every citizen in the square.

"Maybe from the results, many rules do not seem to have the ideal effect in the end, but they are always afraid of those who cross the line. The lesson we have learned can only be to further strengthen control, rather than to blame the rules themselves, friends, what do you think?"

"The loss of control of the overall order must be a tragedy. We have been working hard for a more stable and safer order. Even if we have paid the price, some destined and real costs."

"The price" Mr. Wax shook his head and smiled, "How sad and sad. But fortunately, there is art that is born from the glow and nourishes the soul."

"Yes, I must even stop first and once again sincerely praise and thank you for this abundant seven years."

"However—" The voice on the stage suddenly became as sharp as a steel needle. Suddenly, someone felt his temples pounding, and even the copper plate on the armrest of the seat began to heat up.

"Some of the fallen spirits and flesh are defiling San Pelto!"

"They used mysterious chords to spread taboos, used oil paintings, paint words and strange powers to mess with gods, used sonnets to write the code of the joint between acquaintances and Qingkes, and even used the guise of creating symphony to explore the reality of 'wormology'!!"

Again, there was a "click" sound of hard pages.

Some people suddenly realize that the atmosphere becomes unusual.

"We have dealt with a considerable number of internal personnel these days, and some of them have not been announced, which is much more than you think."

Mr. Wax's tone was slow, but when he savored it carefully, it seemed to be filled with even more regret and regret?

More light beams hit the square seats.

Very white and strong, exceeding the lighting or festive atmosphere necessary for night celebrations.

It's even a bit like a searchlight for military purposes.

Fanning, who had returned to her original seat, looked at Roy and Sheeran beside her, and then met with the Marquis McAdam, who had several seats apart.

The warmth of the skin on the face is increasing, and everyone's face is illuminated snow-white.

Fanning couldn't help but frown deeply.

"There are many reasons." Mr. Wax picked up the water cup on the stage and took a sip. "In addition to the hopeless 'wormology' researchers, there is actually a considerable number of them, which are both regrettable and hateful, hateful and pity."

"These insiders, some have worked for the organization for many years, but they still remain wishful and unwilling to think about problems from the perspective of the overall situation; some people have certain advantages in their own ideas, but they do not know how to express them in the right form through appropriate channels at the right time; some people are very talented and reused by the organization, and have a high position, have a strong public influence, and then they no longer pay attention to the influence when doing things; some people are simply afraid that the situation is not chaotic enough. The leader's original intention is good, but these people are very 'smart'. They have their own tricks to increase the public's prejudice against us. They have their own tricks. The way they oppose one thing is to execute 200%."

"Ha even on the last day of today, we have learned about some new people, new situations, and new ideas."

"Some of this has been a long time, but the latest information has happened yesterday, and today, they are surprisingly grateful to the conscientious investigators, who are still working hard while citizens relax and relax, thank them."

Mr. Wax looked down at the manuscript again, and looked up at the person again.

The conscientious investigators are still working hard???

Everyone suddenly felt a chill on their backs, and some people began to look at the people around them with a look of surprise and alertness, or looked at each other.

"So, before the results are officially announced, we will announce a list of 'special commendations'. Before that, it was internal, and now it will continue to be external. Yes, in fact, this is the 56th batch."

The sound of paper turning like a death talisman sounded again.

"Mr. Don Yetus."

!?

Editor-in-chief of "Tiolein Culture Weekly"!?

The editor-in-chief of the journal who first met at the "Death and Girls" music salon?

This is the first one? He is the first one?

"Play!!"

The crisp sound of a glass falling to the ground came from behind.

Fan Ning suddenly turned his head and looked at the seventh place on the left side of the third row behind him. A gentleman wearing fashionable sunglasses and a dark jacket had a pale face as pale as paper!

Why is it him? I don't know.

What did you do? Didn't say it.

What does this mean? I don’t know.

Anyway, the three policemen were standing there at some point.

Two of them raised their arms.

Another man took out a portable writing board and started recording something on the entrained paper.

Don Yetus was directly carried away on the spot, his back gradually drifted away, and his knees and ankles seemed to be no longer focused.

Only the pile of glass slags and traces of tea on the ground were left.

“Ms. Oramp Beschel.”
Chapter completed!