Of course, for Lucius Laine, the most crucial thing was to erase any evidence of certain matters in the end. He still couldn’t forget the scene of running away without even wearing pants.
However, he remained cautious, jokingly asking the senior Huang Ban executive beside him,
"By the way, the fire won’t reach us here, right?"
"Don’t worry, Mr. Mayor,"
The Huang Ban Marketing Manager assured,
"Huang Ban agents are clearing a buffer zone below, the fire brigade and drones are on standby, ensuring that not a bit of fire reaches Huang Ban Seafront."
At present, he is also in a great mood. Once everything is burned to ashes, he can drive out all local residents, allowing Huang Ban to massively acquire the remaining land in Watson District and expand its influence. The achievents and benefits he could reap from this are too nurous, perhaps even making Miss izhi regard him differently and advancing further.
Thinking this, a raging fire of desire ignited in his eyes as he tossed his wine glass directly into the pool, letting the golden wine scatter throughout, and then said to the agent beside him,
"Replace all the pool water, switch it out for clean water."
The water used in Ganbi Mansion is all of drinking-grade quality, even more expensive than true water on the market, and it’s still far purer than what those people below usually drink, even if mixed with alcohol and sweat. But this cost and the pool of water is of small consequence in the eyes of the manager.
Very soon, the entire pool’s hundreds of tons of water were drained in one go into the dark sea below, replaced with clear and clean new water, as the mayor and his peers continued to revel in it.
————
The fire continues to ragingly burn, with smoke billowing thickly and darkening the sky.
The speed of the fire’s spread was faster than anyone had imagined. Many were watching out from their balconies one second; the next, their downstairs was ignited by the fire source, and then the blaze engulfed the entire building within re minutes.
Every staircase in Watson District was crowded with people, surrounded by children’s cries, adults’ panicked shouts, and rchants’ despairing roars as their stores fell victim to an infernal sea of flas.
So successfully escaped before the fire blocked the way, but others, for various reasons, couldn’t flee in ti and were trapped in the blaze.
All they could do was turn on the faucets, soak clothes, and bedsheets to block the door, watching smoke gradually roll into the room as they awaited their deaths in despair.
Reporters from Channel 54 were up in a helicopter photographing the fire scene from above, eyes filled with ecstatic delight at securing the right to shoot. They eagerly aid their lenses at residents calling for help from the fire, hoping they would shout louder, more miserably, enough to move TV viewers to shed a few tears, thus slightly raising ratings.
If that happens, the reporters’ end-of-month salaries will surely be much higher than usual.
Capitalists holding wine glasses watched analytically as their stock analysts assessed how the fire would affect Night City’s stock market tomorrow, preparing to sell or buy new stocks.
Firefighters surrounded Huang Ban Seafront, forming an impregnable firewall, aiming high-pressure water hoses at any disaster victims who dared approach.
People in high-rise buildings in other districts looked on with interest at the hellish flas raging through Watson District, comnting and speculating on who the mastermind might be, without anyone considering a helping hand.
Only those dwelling in Watson District were shouting heart-wrenchingly,
"My child! Ling i is still in there!"
A Japanese woman, just off her car, sprinted crazily toward Panshing Street, trying to rush into the already fire-surrounded apartnt, yet her neighbors just escaped from the building blocked her.
"Don’t go in, ishu, you’ll die in there!"
But the woman, unconcerned and desperately struggling to burst from her neighbor’s grip into the fire, had her nightclub makeup now tear-soaked and ruined.
"My daughter is still in there, I have to save her!"
The neighbor knew all about Nishikawa ishu’s situation at ho, but guessed her daughter was asleep inside, as there was no response no matter how much he knocked, eventually leaving no choice but to escape alone.
"With such a fire, you go in and won’t co out! Only die inside with her."
"I don’t care! If Ling i dies, I can’t live either!"
The woman cried hysterically and struggled endlessly; her sole purpose in life was her daughter, enduring a broken life just to see her child again, even if it ant being scorned, entertaining at bars in the Dancing District, by Tiger Claw. She tolerated the indignities.
Even if she was just an abandoned baby picked up from a rubbish heap.
Just as the neighbor’s hands were about to be shaken off by Nishikawa ishu, one hand rested on his shoulder.
"May I ask, which floor and room is this lady’s child in?"
Upon looking back, the neighbor nearly fainted at the insect-like big face, but upon closer inspection, it was just a chanical mask. This guy wore a red scarf.
Staring at the shocked neighbor, Masked Rider asked again,
"Which floor and room is this lady’s child in?"
The neighbor still didn’t respond, but the woman he held, Nishikawa ishu, recognized a savior in this insect-like person, clutching the strange man’s attire and pleading,
"Sixth floor, 607, please, please save her."
"Alright, 607, a little girl nad Ling i, right?"
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