Mr. Renn was very angry about this and the consequences were very serious. So on the morning of the day, just next to the recruitment site, when a group of workers were promoting the new contracts and rules of the "Renn Textile Factory" to others, and when they had a conscience, a group of people from the factory guard team rushed out with big sticks and rushed towards these workers. Naturally, the workers could not be beaten for nothing, so they resisted, and then...

A sharp sirens sounded, and countless policemen suddenly emerged from various entrances in the street, as if they were coming out from the ground.

"Stop the fight, squat on the ground immediately, don't move!" the policemen shouted, waving batons, shields, handcuffs and revolvers.

"It's the police, run!" some workers shouted.

The workers began to flee, but the police stopped them. The police in the front row blocked them with shields, and then hit them with a baton.

"Squat down immediately! Hold your head with both hands, first warning!"

"Quick, squat down!" a representative of the London Textile Workers Mutual Aid Association shouted. He knew that according to British law, police officers only need to issue such a warning three times when facing such a group fight!

"Second warning!" the police shouted.

"Squat down, squat down quickly, they will shoot!" more representatives shouted.

Many workers hesitated to squat down. But the thugs of the factory guard team with white towels tied to their arms ignored these things. They continued to wave big sticks and hit the workers.

"Third warning! Shoot!"

The order to "fire" was almost immediately followed by the "third warning", and almost no time for others to report. A worker representative was shouting: "Crouch down..." Several bullets hit him. Blood suddenly flowed out of him, his mouth and eyes. The worker representative shook for a moment and fell to the ground. But he had not died immediately, and he could barely support himself with his hands and barely support half of his body.

A factory guard team member with a big stick came over swayingly, slammed two sticks on his head and body, and died.

The workers were forced to squat on the ground, and the workers were waving their big sticks under the guns of the police, and they beat the workers. Once a worker dared to stand up and resist, the police who had issued three warnings would shoot them mercilessly... blood flowed all over the floor.

"Blood flows all over the floor, and our brothers blood flows all over the floor!" Buck burst into tears. Since Buck looked at his adoptive father and the previous boss Fei Jin was hanged, Buck has never cried like this again.

"Buck, don't cry, how are the others?" Fei Jin asked.

"First, the factory guard team fought, and then the police arrested them and the factory guard team. After entering for five minutes, all the people in the factory guard team came out, but our people were locked up - this world will not let us all live!"

"He doesn't let us live, so we will pull them to die together!" the butcher gritted his teeth.

"I heard that other textile mills are also planning to modify contracts and reduce wages," Oliver said.

"We want to spread this news and let textile workers in London strike together," said Fei Jin. "In addition, we can't make them proud, we have to teach them a lesson!"

Early in the morning, Shindley got up from the bed and stretched. At this time, his wife had already made breakfast and was waiting for him. Shindley's salary was pretty good, but his work was hard, and he also went out early and came back late. The money he earned every month, after paying the rent, and other so-called necessary expenses for the middle class, the rest was actually very limited. But at least, when you come back every day, unpack the soup pot, you can see a lamb chop inside. This kind of life is also pretty good.

After breakfast, Shindley kissed his wife and children and went out.

It was still early and the air outside was very turbid, which made Shindley cough. Shindley walked to the public carriage station and was waiting for the carriage there.

Although Shindley felt that he was a decent person, a low-level decent person like him could not have his own private carriage, and he could only wait for public carriages at the station - of course, this is much better than workers. Do those poor workers know what it looks like in the carriage?

Thinking of this, Shindley felt a little confident. He felt that if he worked hard, he could get his son to go to a private school, and then he could find a higher-paid career in the future. Even his grandson's generation would have the opportunity to become a boss by himself and become a truly decent person with the accumulated money...

"This is so good!" Shindley thought so, and saw a bus coming from afar.

Shindley held the briefcase in his arms and looked at the others who were waiting at the station. These people are now his opponents, and he must defeat these people and squeeze on the train, otherwise he would have to wait half an hour for the next bus and would definitely have to eat it when he arrived at the factory. Even if he was late, his wages would be deducted.

Of course, he can also make a carriage rental, but taxi carriages are much more expensive than public carriages. If you can save some money, just save some money.

The public car stopped and everyone rushed forward. Shindley held the briefcase with one hand and grabbed the handle of the door with the other, and wanted to squeeze in. But at this time, a hand came out from somewhere, and pulled his briefcase off and threw it away.

At this moment, Sindley had to let go of his other hand and quickly pick up the briefcase. Some documents were spilled out, and he had to carefully check whether they were missing... and then... the public car drove away.

"These people are really... so uncommon!" Shindley cursed in a low voice, and wanted to look around, hoping to see a passing taxi carriage.

But God follows the will of man, and a taxi cart happened to turn out from there and come toward this side.

"Stop, stop!" Shindley waved and shouted at the carriage.

The carriage slowed down and the coachman shouted to him, "Where?"

"Go to Rennes Textile Factory!" Sindley shouted. He knew that there was probably one passenger on the car, and he could take another passenger on the order. If it was a side trip, the coachman would take him with him and make more money.

The carriage gradually slowed down and stopped in front of him.

"Come up!" The coachman has a heavy Scottish accent.

"Okay, OK." Sindley responded and quickly got on the carriage.

Sitting down in the car, closing the door, the carriage started running again. Only then did Shindley have time to see the situation inside the carriage, and two people were sitting opposite him. The two were staring at him with wide eyes.

"Hello, can you meet here..." Sindley was about to say hello when the two pounced over. Sindley opened his mouth and wanted to call for help, but a smelly rag was stuffed into his mouth. He wanted to resist, but the two men were stronger than him. After a while, they tied him with a rope like a big rice dumpling.

The carriage kept stopping, and after running for a while, it stopped. Then the two of them tied it up like a big rice dumpling. Ah, considering their cultural background, it should be said that Schindre, who was tied up like a mummy, pulled it off the car and slapped it hard to the ground. Schindre's fat face hit the ground directly, and was hurt by the small stones on the ground.

Sindley tried to struggle, but one foot stepped on his back, making him unable to breathe. Then he grabbed his hair with one hand and pulled his face up. Sindley saw a group of angry workers surrounding him.

Shindley knew that this place must be in a slum, and that the police would not come in such a place. He fell into the hands of these people, and even if he screamed, no one would come to save him.

"Woooooo..." Shindley's Adam's apple kept shaking. He wanted to ask for forgiveness, but his mouth was blocked and he couldn't make a sound.

"Bastard! You are so majestic when you take people to kill our people! Dog thing!"

A worker-like man scolded and kicked Shindley in the face, and half of Shindley's face immediately became swollen.

Another worker reached out and pulled off the smelly rag from Shindley's mouth.

"Give me your life! Brothers, please spare me! I can't do anything. Mr. Renn asked me to order someone to shoot! I can't do anything... Brothers, I have parents and wives and children, and I raise them alone. I dare not ignore Mr. Renn. Brothers, please spare me, I will definitely change my mind in the future..."

"Fart! Who is your brother?!" a worker shouted.

"You helped Renn and killed so many of us. Your hands were covered with the blood of so many of our brothers. Do you think you can survive if you want to ask for a few words?" A worker grabbed Shindley's chest and lifted him up. "Wouldn't you be very majestic when you asked the factory guards to shoot? You should have died long ago!"

After saying this, he suddenly smelled a strange smell. He shrugged his nose and smiled contemptuously: "Brothers, this dead dog - he wet his pants, hahaha!"

"Slaughter him, kill him, kill him to avenge his brothers!" everyone around shouted.

Someone brought a big stone over.

"What are you going to do?" Shindley asked in horror and panic.

Everyone ignored him and just tied the big stone to him.

"What are you... what are you going to do?" Hearing the sound of the Thames River next to him, Shindray understood their plans in his heart, and finally couldn't help but shout, "Help! Help!"

"Call it, yell, yell, yell, and no one will come to save you. You capitalist dog!" A worker stuffed a stinky rag into his mouth, then grabbed his neck and dragged him to the river.

"Will your family behave when you know you die?" Another worker said in his ear with malicious intentions, "Your wife and son will be kicked out by the landlord because they can't afford the rent. Your son will be kicked out by the school because they can't afford the tuition. Then, for the sake of eating, your wife will be a street girl. At most two years later, she will die because she is infected with a dirty disease..."

Sindley struggled hard, but nothing was used. Several people dragged him onto a small boat.

"When your wife dies, your son will be old enough to be a child laborer in the factory. He will enter the textile factory in Rennes and become a child laborer, and then at most five years, your family will be reunited."

Shindley's eyes were wide open, and his bloodshot eyes almost jumped out of his sockets, and he struggled hard.
Chapter completed!