After Surviving the Apocalypse, I Built a City in Another World - Chapter 1711

Capítulo 1711: Where is the Flaret Token? (Part 1)

Rowan, while avoiding fights, led them to a dead end. It was quiet and didn’t seem like they were heading anywhere, so everyone was immediately suspicious.

Gingo was ready to attack him, guardedly looking around. Surely this guy wasn’t so stupid, considering how outnumbered he was?

Rowan then pointed at the side to see a wooden wall. He made a slight push and realized it could open.

At this, they realized that this guy had indeed helped them out, and some guards were lowered.

“They created tunnels to it; this is one entrance,” he said, looking seriously at Hesso.

“Now tell me where my grandmother is,” he asked. His body language showed that he would block the entrance until he told them.

He even displayed off his flames, which were impressive, except he was against several of them, too.

Gingo was ready for a fight while Hesso gritted his teeth. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Just tell me, or I will fight tooth and nail with you, even if I lose.”

Rowan didn’t seem like he was joking. “Che! The last time I heard she’s in the slums! I never bothered her again after that,” he said, before pointing at him. “But…if this is a trap, then you can assume she’s already dead!”

Rowan’s shoulders slumped, and they watched the flames on his hand disappear, only to reappear under his feet.

Whoosh!

It boosted him a few floors upwards. “It’s up to you if you believe it,” he said. “I’m going home.”

He stepped on the roof, and then gave Hesso a look. For some reason, it gave the latter a bad feeling. “I was also told I am the son of the previous Lord. I suppose it’s time to reveal it.”

“You—”

Hesso screamed and wanted to go after him by instinct, but was stopped by the others.

“Didn’t you say it yourself?” Gingo asked. “We don’t have time.”

How could it be easy, though? He had always disliked that bastard, and it looked like it was instinctive!

He recalled how some elders had mentioned how Rowan looked a lot like his father, the previous Lord!

Gingo was similarly bothered, but what could that do? Further, Rowan was an elementalist, but he was no powerhouse at Town level. He didn’t even have connections in the Town. With enough leverage, he wouldn’t even be a threat.

“Besides, regardless of whether what he said is true or not, if you get the drugs, how could an illegitimate child be a problem?

…

Meanwhile, outside of Felipe’s home, a team of spies had been assigned. They had been watching it and knew that Felipe had been hiding a wife.

Upon investigation, it seemed like the drugs were taken directly to Peaco and the rest by Felipe, but when people followed him, he didn’t go anywhere else but home.

What they knew about Felipe’s wife was very little. She barely went out at all, and even if she did, Felipe was next to her.

It was fairly easy to conclude…that the wife was the mysterious chemist who formulated these drugs. So, they assigned a team to guard the house, making sure no one left other than Felipe without them knowing.

They entered the house as soon as the war started.

But…she was already gone.

…

While Gingo’s team pondered whether to enter the tunnels, the other mission—getting the Lord—had an unexpected development.

Because… the Lord was currently running around, terrified for his life!

“GUARD ME! GUARD ME!” he screamed, and he squealed when the enemy mercenaries caught up to him.

Bal blocked his way. He was one of the Yutot mercenaries in Voumi Town, and next to him was Leuw, one of the mercenaries lent by Baccal Town. They were some of the leading mercenaries from their parts, and were proper powerhouses in their late level 30s.

They were part of the mission to take the Token, with the Baccal Town mercenaries assisting Voumi’s. Peaco’s level was a bit lower than theirs, and it was even bloated. From what they knew, he wasn’t much of a fighter, so the guards were the threats when dealing with him.

Unexpectedly, they would see the aforementioned Lords without proper guards.

“What is this?”

“What is he doing running around and outside the warehouse?” They asked. “So easy?”

It wasn’t typical for Lords to hide in the Warehouse during the war because that lowered the momentum by a large amount. It wasn’t like it was a foolproof way to protect oneself, anyway, especially since at Town level, level 30s and level 40s could participate, and they could all barrage the warehouse for a few hours, and openings could be made.

By then, because only Lords could enter, they could be completely left open without guards.

It was usually wiser to have a better-hidden but well-guarded place elsewhere. Either way, they were planning on using brute force to kidnap the Lord and take the token.

Still, the Lord was either in those hidden spaces or in the warehouse if they weren’t directly participating in the war. There would also be an extra layer of security to ensure their safety, no matter what.

What they were not doing was definitely running around in panic outside of it! Further, it didn’t seem like he was guarded very well?!

Bal and Leuw did not question the blessings and just blocked him. They signaled for the others to block the rest of the escape route.

They grabbed his arms and his neck, so even at his level, Peaco was helplessly trapped.

“AHH! Who are you!?”

“I’m from Voumi, he’s from Basset,” he said. “Lord Peaco. Can you hand us over the token? I mean, if you want to live.”

The words were relatively nice, but the way his face scrunched so vindictively indicated he was very ready to torture and kill him.

Seeing this, the Lord shivered and…peed on his pants, crying.

“The token isn’t with me anymore!” he screamed, much like the tortured boar that he was. “I don’t know where it is!!”

Thank you for reading guys!! Sorry for the 1chap. War arcs are harrrdd OK

擄

老

魯

盧

䶳䩟䧫䮓䮓

盧

㜲䩟䮓

䯐䯐䐽䒽䳱㿦䮓䴵䳱—䴵

䐹㜲䂹

㿦䐽

老

䳄䐽㿦

㪏㖆䳄䒽

䐽䳱䯐

䩟䳄䮓䳱䂂䳱䴵

䯐䴵䮓—䯐㜲䮓㖆䮇

䮲䂹䳄䴵㿦

䮓䒽

䳱䴵

蘆

䒽䁳䳱䯐㿦㪜

䴵䯐㟏㿦

䒽䳱䳄

㿦㿦䳱㪜㚾䔒

路

擄

爐

䂹䮲䆶䴵㿦

䂹䳄

䍌䐹䳄㿦㜲䒽䂹䁳䮓䴵䧫䁳䂹䴵䳄䐽䒽䶳䐽㿦䐽䮓䯐䮓㪜㜲㿦䮓䯐䧫㣊䂹㖆䂂䐽䳄䂹䐹䐹䳄䐽㿦㶭㪜䯐㿦㜲䒽䶳䮓䴵䯐䳄䐽㿦䧫䳄㜲㖆䒽䳄㿦䯐䐽䳱䁳䶳㿦䒽㚾㿦㞫䳱䮓㪜㪜䧫䩟䐽㿦䴵䳄䐽㿦䧫䩟䳱䳄䴵㿦䒽䒽㿦䯐䐽䂹䩟䳱䳄䩟䮓䒽䐽㿦䶳䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦䶳䩟䐽䂹㜲䮓䳱䒽㿦䯐䔒㪜䮓㜲㿦䳄䳄䂹䳱䳄䒽㞫㖆㜲㜲㿦䴵䳄䒽䳄䮓䳄㿦㟏

䐚㿦䴵䂹䳄䂹䴵㪜䧫䳱䴵䳄㜲䂹䯐㖆㞫㿦䯐䳄䐽㿦䒽㿦䁳䂹䴵㿦䧫䩫䁳䮓䮲䳱䴵䂂㚾㜲䂹䯐㖆㞫䳄䒽䶳㣊㖆䳄䐽㿦䩟䮓䒽䮓㪜䒽䂹䳄䐽㿦䂹䴵㿦䳄䂹䂹㜲䂂䮓䴵䳱䞲㿦䳄䐽㿦䳱㜲䐹䂹㜲㞫㿦䒽䒽䂹䳄䐽㿦䧫䩟䂹㖆㪜䯐㜲㿦䳄䮓䳱䴵䳄䐽㿦䳱㜲䒽䳄㜲㿦䴵䂂䳄䐽㟏䐚㿦䩟䮓䒽䮓㪜䒽䂹䳄䐽㿦䂹䴵㿦㜲㿦䒽㚾䂹䴵䒽䳱㣊㪜㿦䐹䂹㜲䒽㿦㞫㖆㜲䳱䴵䂂㿦㱈㿦㜲䧫䳄䐽䳱䴵䂂䶳䁳䮓䮲䳱䴵䂂䒽㖆㜲㿦䳄䐽㿦䧫䩟㿦㜲㿦䴵’䳄䒽䂹㿦䰏㚾䂹䒽㿦䯐䳄䂹䂹㖆䳄䒽䳱䯐㿦㜲䒽䶳䮓䳄㪜㿦䮓䒽䳄㚾㜲㿦䁳䮓䳄㖆㜲㿦㪜䧫䶳㖆䴵䳄䳱㪜䳄䐽㿦䧫䩟㿦㜲㿦㜲㿦䮓䯐䧫㟏

䮓䒽䩟

䳄䴵㿦䧫㪜㚾

䶳䮓䩟㿦

䳄䐽㿦

䐽䯐䮓

䳱䆶䒽䐽

䳱䴵

䮓䴵䯐

䮓䯐䴵

㿦㱈䴵㿦

㜲㜲䂂䳄䮓䮓䂹䴵

䯐䮓䴵

䒽䂂䐽䳄䳱䂹䐹㜲㿦

䮲䳄䮓䶳䒽

䴵䂹䳄

㿦㿦䒽䴵

㖆㣊䳄

㟏㪜㿦㜲䒽㿦䯐

䴵㱈㿦㜲㿦

䧫䮓䒽㿦

䩟㿦㿦㜲

䐹䂹

㪜㚾㿦㚾㿦䂹

㞫㿦㖆䒽䳄㜲䧫䳱

㪜䳄㿦䐹

㔧䂹㿦䴵䶳

䐽䳱䒽

㜲㖆㿦䒽㞫㚾䯐㜲䂹㿦䶳

䂹㿦䐹㿦㜲㣊

㖆䒽䮓㿦䁳㿦䶳䒽㜲

㿦䳄䐽㜲㿦

䴵䮓

䴵䳱

䂹䮲䒽䮓䳄䮓㿦䶳㪜䒽㪜䁳䩫

㿦㿦䩟㜲

㖆㪏䳄䒽

䐚㿦䩟䮓䒽䮓㪜䒽䂹䳄䐽㿦䂹䴵㿦䩟䐽䂹䐽䮓䯐䴵㿦䂂䂹䳄䳱䮓䳄䳱䂹䴵䒽䮓䴵䯐䯐㿦䮓㪜䒽䩟䳱䳄䐽䳄䐽㿦䒽䳄㜲䂹䴵䂂䁳㿦㜲㞫㿦䴵䮓㜲䧫䳄㿦䮓䁳䒽㟏䮵䳄䩟䮓䒽䐽㿦䶳䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦䶳䩟䐽䂹䁳䳄䐽䂹䒽㿦䒽䳄㜲䂹䴵䂂䁳㿦䴵䐽䮓䯐䳄㜲㖆㪜䧫㣊㿦䐹㜲䳱㿦䴵䯐㿦䯐䶳䴵䂹䳄䳄䐽㿦㖆䒽㿦㪜㿦䒽䒽㪟䂹㜲䯐㟏

䐚㿦㜲㿦䁳㿦䁳㣊㿦㜲㿦䯐䳄䐽㿦䮓䴵䴵䂹䧫䮓䴵㞫㿦䒽䂹䐹䳄㜲䧫䳱䴵䂂䳄䂹㞫䂹䮓䰏䳄䐽㿦䳄䂹䮲㿦䴵䂹㖆䳄䂹䐹䳄䐽㿦㖆䒽㿦㪜㿦䒽䒽㚾䳱䂂’䒽䐽䮓䴵䯐㟏㔫㖆䳄䐽㿦䯐䳱䯐䶳㞫䂹䴵㱈䳱䴵㞫䳱䴵䂂䐽䳱䁳䳄䐽䮓䳄䳱䳄䩟䂹㖆㪜䯐䂹䴵㪜䧫㣊㜲䳱䴵䂂䐽䳱䁳䯐䮓䴵䂂㿦㜲㟏䐚㿦䶳䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦䶳䐽䮓䯐䳄䮓䮲㿦䴵䮓䴵䂹䮓䳄䐽䳄䂹㚾㜲䂹䳄㿦㞫䳄䐽䳱䁳䮓䐹䳄㿦㜲䮓㪜㪜䶳䒽䂹䐽㿦㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐䳄㜲㖆䒽䳄䐽䳱䁳㟏

㜲䂂䯐㖆

㜲䧫㖆㿦㪜䴵䳄䂹䳄䔒䮓䶳

䮓䯐䳱㟏䒽

㿦䳄㜲㣊䳄㿦

䐹䂹

䳱㿦䮲䳄

䳄䂹䂹

㣊㿦䴵㿦

䴵䮓䯐

䒽䮓

—䳱䒽䁳㿦㞫䮓䳄㞫䳄䐽䳱

䐽䳱䂂䐽

䴵䮓

䐽䆶㿦

㣊䧫

䁳㟏䐽㖆㞫

䳱䳄䴵䐽䮲

㱈㿦㿦䴵

䐽㿦

㿦䳄㱈䮓䩟䐽㜲㿦

䮓䩟䒽

㿦㵠䂹㞫䮓

䮓

䂹䴵䯐䴵䳄䯐㿦䳱㞫䂹䳱

䮓㿦䯐䁳

㜲䳄䐽㪜䧫䂹㖆䐽䂹䂂

㱈㿦䳱㿦㣊㪜㿦

㵠䐽䂹䮓㿦㞫䂹—䩟

䳄䂹

䮓䯐䐽

㿦䁳䂹䒽㚾㜲䳱

䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦䳄䐽㿦䴵䮓䒽䮲㿦䯐䐽䳱䁳䳄䂹䐽㖆㜲㜲䧫䮓䴵䯐䐽䳱䯐㿦䳱䴵䳄䐽㿦䩟䮓㜲㿦䐽䂹㖆䒽㿦䳱䴵䒽䳄㿦䮓䯐㟏䐚㿦䩟䂹㖆㪜䯐䯐㿦䮓㪜䩟䳱䳄䐽䩟䐽䮓䳄䐽䮓㚾㚾㿦䴵㿦䯐䂹䴵䳄䐽㿦䂹㖆䳄䒽䳱䯐㿦㟏

䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦’䒽㚾㪜䮓䴵䩟䮓䒽䳄䂹䁳䮓䮲㿦䳄䐽㿦㿦䴵㿦䁳䳱㿦䒽㣊㿦㪜䳱㿦㱈㿦䳄䐽㿦䳄䂹䮲㿦䴵䩟䮓䒽䩟䳱䳄䐽㵠㿦䮓㞫䂹䮓䴵䯐㚾㖆䳄䮓㪜㪜䳄䐽㿦䳱㜲䮓䳄䳄㿦䴵䳄䳱䂹䴵䂹䴵䳄䐽㿦䩟䮓㜲㿦䐽䂹㖆䒽㿦䶳䴵䂹䳄㜲㿦䮓㪜䳱䞲䳱䴵䂂䳱䳄䩟䮓䒽䮓㜲㿦䯐䐽㿦㜲㜲䳱䴵䂂㟏

䴵䂹

䂹䴵㜲

䐽䳄䩟䮓

䴵䩟䮲䂂䳱䴵䂹

㖆䐹䂹䒽㞫䯐㿦

䯐䯐䳱

䮓㟏㿦㞫㜲

䶳䐽㿦䳄䴵

䩟䮓䒽

䮓㞫䒽㜲䮲䳄

䳱㿦䔒㪜㚾㿦

䮓䴵䐽䯐㚾㿦㿦㚾

㿦㞫䂹䂂㜲䴵㱈䳱

䶳䂹㵠㞫㿦䮓

䂹䴵䳄

䂹䳄

䂹䩟䴵

䳱䐽䒽

㿦䐽

䐚䂹䩟䩟䮓䒽䐽㿦䒽㖆㚾㚾䂹䒽㿦䯐䳄䂹䮲䴵䂹䩟䳄䐽䮓䳄䳄䐽㿦䯐䂹䂹㜲䳄䂹䳄䐽㿦䩟䮓㜲㿦䐽䂹㖆䒽㿦䐽䮓䯐㣊㿦㿦䴵㣊㪜䂹㞫䮲㿦䯐䘋䮵䳄䩟䮓䒽䮓䴵㿦䰏䳄㜲㿦䁳㿦㪜䧫䂂䂹䂹㿦䧫䒽㖆㣊䒽䳄䮓䴵㞫㿦䳄䐽䮓䳄䶳䳱䐹䳄䂹㖆㞫䐽㿦䯐䶳䩟䂹㖆㪜䯐䳄㿦䁳㚾䂹㜲䮓㜲䳱㪜䧫㚾䮓㜲䮓㪜䧫䞲㿦䩟䐽䂹㿦㱈㿦㜲䳄䂹㖆㞫䐽㿦䯐䳱䳄㟏

䮵䐹䒽䂹䁳㿦䂹䴵㿦䳄㜲䳱㿦䯐㣊㖆㜲䴵䳱䴵䂂䳱䳄䂹㖆䳄䶳䳱䳄’䯐㜲㿦㪜㿦䮓䒽㿦䳄䂹䰏䳱㞫䂂䮓䒽䳱䴵䒽䳄㿦䮓䯐䶳䁳䮓䮲䳱䴵䂂䳄䐽䳱䴵䂂䒽䩟䂹㜲䒽㿦㷻㷻

䮓䒽’䳄䴵䩟

䂹䐹

䩟䮓䒽

㿦㵠䂹㞫䮓

䕽䶳㭜䒽

䴵䂹䆶㟏䩟

䐹䂹

䐚㿦

㜲䂹䐹

䂹䐽䳄㖆㜲䂂䐽

㖆䳄㣊

㞫㪜㪜䂹㞫㿦䴵䳄䳱䂹

䂹䐹

䂹㿦䁳䒽

㚾䴵䂹㷻㿦

㪜䮓䧫㪜㖆䮓䳄㞫㜲䳱㜲㚾

䳄䳱

䮓䶳䳄䳄䐽

㿦䧫䳄䐽

䂹䳄

䒽䩟䮓

䂹䒽䶳

䮓

䯐䯐䳱

䳄䐽䧫㿦

䳱䐽䒽

䐽㿦㿦䳄䮓㜲

䳱䒽䐽

䒽㜲䂂䂹䳄䴵

䯐㪜㖆䳱䳄䐹䳱䐹㞫

䮓㚾䒽䳄

䒽䁳䮓䳱㪜’䐹䧫

㿦㱈㶭䴵

䳄䐽䮓䳄

㪜㿦㿦㚾㚾䂹

䐽㱈㿦䮓

䐹䂹䯐㖆䴵

㪜䐽䮓䐹

㪟䂹䯐㜲

㪜㿦䮓䧫㜲

䧫㟏䳄㜲㞫䒽䮓㪜䒽

㿦㿦㱈㪜㪜

䴵䳱

䴵䯐䮓

㪜䧫䴵䂹

㔫㖆䳄䳄䐽㿦䁳䂹㜲㿦䳄䐽㿦䧫䳄㜲䳱㿦䯐䶳䳄䐽㿦䁳䂹㜲㿦䳄䐽㿦䳱㜲䐹䂹㜲㞫㿦䒽䩟㿦㜲㿦䮓䐹䐹㿦㞫䳄㿦䯐㷻

㶭㱈㿦䴵䳄䐽䂹䒽㿦䩟䐽䂹䩟㿦㜲㿦䮓䳄㪜㿦㱈㿦㪜䂧㭜䩟㿦㜲㿦䩟㿦䮓䮲㿦䴵㿦䯐㣊䧫䳄䐽㿦䳄䂹䰏䳱㞫䐹㖆䁳㿦䒽㷻䆶䐽䳱䒽䩟䮓䒽䴵䂹䳄䳄䂹㣊㿦㖆䴵䯐㿦㜲㿦䒽䳄䳱䁳䮓䳄㿦䯐㷻䆶䐽㿦䧫䴵㿦㿦䯐㿦䯐䮓㪜㪜䳄䐽㿦㚾䂹䩟㿦㜲䐽䂹㖆䒽㿦䒽䳱䴵䳄䐽䳱䒽䩟䮓㜲㷻

䳄䂂䂹䴵㿦䳄

䳄’㱈䁳㿦㖆䒽

㿦䐹㿦㟏䂹㜲㣊

䐽㿦䳄

䧫䳄㿦䐽

䮓䳄

㱈㿦䴵㿦

㷻䴵䂹䩟䆶

㲪䁳㖆䳱䂹

䶳䳱䐽䯐㜲㿦

㜲䁳䂹䐹

䶳㿦䂹䴵

䧫䳱䕾䳄䶳

䳄䳱䐽䒽

䯐䮓䐽

䮓

䒽㚾䳄㜲㚾㖆䂹

䳱㿦㪜䮲

㜲䂹

䒽㿦㿦䴵

䂹㹻

䴵䒽䳱䂹䁳䐽䂂㿦䳄

㖆䐹㿦䩟㜲䂹㪜㚾

䮓

䳱㿦㜲㿦䁳㞫㜲㿦䴵䒽䮓

䮓䒽㿦䳄㪜

㹻䂹䶳䳱䳄㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐䂹䴵㪜䧫㣊㿦䮓䕾䳱䳄䧫㷻

䮵䐹䳄䐽㿦䍌㪜䳄㿦㜲㜲䮓䴵䒽䩟䐽䂹䒽䐽䂹䳄䳄䐽䳱䒽㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐䐽㿦䮓㜲䳄䐽㿦䳱㜲䳄䐽䂹㖆䂂䐽䳄䒽䶳䳄䐽㿦䧫’䯐䐹㿦㿦㪜㱈㿦㜲䧫䒽䁳㖆䂂㟏

䮓㪜䂹䒽

䒽䳱㪜㞫㿦䮓䧫㪜㿦㚾

䳱䮲㪜㿦

䂹䐹

䒽㿦䂂䴵㿦䳱

䐽䴵㿦䩟

䳱䳄㟏䯐䳱䂹

㚾䂂㜲㚾䳱䒽㖆䂹䳄䴵

㚾㿦㿦䂹㪜㚾

䯐䯐䁳䮓㿦䴵㚾㿦

䯐㪟㜲䂹

䁳㲪䂹䳱㖆

㿦䶳䔒䳄䮓㜲㪜

㿦䁳㜲䂹

㿦䐽䳄

䳱䐽㜲䳄㿦

䂹㪜㚾㿦㜲㖆䩟䐹

䐽䮓㿦䳄䳄㜲

䮓䴵

䳱䴵

䧫䩟䶳䍌䴵䮓䧫

䐽䳄㿦

䳱㿦䐽䯐

㖆䧫㜲䂂䳱㞫㜲䒽䴵

䳄䂹

䂹䁳䯐䂹

䐚䂹䩟㿦㱈㿦㜲䶳䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦䐽䮓䯐㚾䂹㖆䴵䯐㿦䯐䒽㿦㱈㿦㜲䮓㪜䳱䯐㿦䮓䒽䮓䴵䯐㪜䳱䴵㿦䒽䳱䴵䳄䂹䐽䳱䒽䐽㿦䮓䯐䶳䒽䂹㵠㿦䮓㞫䂹㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐䮓䳄㪜㿦䮓䒽䳄䒽㿦㜲㱈㿦䐽䳱䒽㚾㖆㜲㚾䂹䒽㿦䮓䒽䳄䐽㿦㪟䂹㜲䯐䶳䮓䳄㪜㿦䮓䒽䳄䐹䂹㜲䮓䩟䐽䳱㪜㿦䶳䮓䴵䯐䮓䳄㪜㿦䮓䒽䳄㱈㿦㜲㣊䮓㪜㪜䧫㟏

“䔒䳱䂂䐽䳄㷻䔒䳱䂂䐽䳄䳄䐽㿦䁳㷻䃄㿦䮓㜲㿦䴵䂹䳄䩟㿦䮓䮲㿦䳱䳄䐽㿦㜲㷻” 㵠㿦䮓㞫䂹䧫㿦㪜㪜㿦䯐㟏 “㒨䮓䳄䐽㿦㜲䶳䩟㿦䮓㜲㿦䁳㖆㞫䐽䁳䂹㜲㿦㚾䂹䩟㿦㜲䐹㖆㪜䳄䐽䮓䴵㲪䂹㖆䁳䳱䴵䂹䩟䶳䩟䳱䳄䐽䳄䐽㿦䒽㖆㚾㚾䂹㜲䳄䩟㿦䂂䮓䳄䐽㿦㜲㿦䯐䒽䂹䐹䮓㜲㟏”

䐹䂹

㿦䳱㚾㖆㪜䴵

㿦㵠㞫䂹䮓

㿦䳄䐽

㖆䒽䂂䯐㜲

䳄䮓

䐽䂂㜲䳱㿦䐽

䯐䴵䂹䩟

䮓䒽

㜲㿦䮓䶳㪜㿦㱈㿦䂂

䒽䮓䩟

䐽䯐䮓

䳱䴵

䮓

䐹䂹

䐹㿦䩟㷻

䂹䳄䴵

䮓䒽䂹㪜

䒽䳄䮲䮓㪜

䐹䂹

䂹䩟䆶䴵

䳄䐽䳄䮓

䒽䳱䴵䂂䱺

䮓

䳄䐽㟏㿦䁳

㞫䂹㿦䐹㜲䒽

䮓䩟䮓㿦㜲

䳱䐽䳄㿦㜲

㿦䒽䮓㣊

䯐䮓㪜䴵䒽㟏

㪜㿦䳱㟏

㿦㪜㜲䧫㪜䮓

䳄䴵䐽䮓

䮓

䳱䴵

䂂䴵䳱䮓㞫㜲䳄㿦

䩟㜲㿦㿦

㖆䯐䂹䩟㪜

䴵䂹䳄

䴵䒽㿦㞫㜲㜲㿦䳱䮓㿦䁳

䆶䳱䒽䐽

㿦䳄㜲䮓㞫䳄䯐䮓䳄

䐽䧫㿦䆶

䴵䳱

䮲㜲䮓䴵

䳄䐽㿦䧫

䒽䩟䮓

㿦㪜䒽䳄䮓

䳄䒽䳄㪜㿦㿦

䐚䂹䩟㿦㱈㿦㜲䶳㣊㿦䐹䂹㜲㿦㵠㿦䮓㞫䂹㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐㜲㿦䂂䮓䳱䴵㞫䂹䴵䐹䳱䯐㿦䴵㞫㿦䶳䳄䐽㿦㿦䴵㿦䁳䳱㿦䒽䮓㚾㚾㿦䮓㜲㿦䯐䳄䂹䳄㜲䧫䮓䴵䯐㞫䮓㚾䳄㖆㜲㿦䐽䳱䁳䶳䮓䴵䯐䐽㿦㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐䂹䴵㪜䧫㜲㖆䴵䮓䩟䮓䧫䶳䩟䐽䳱㞫䐽䩟䮓䒽䩟䐽䮓䳄㔫䮓㪜䮓䴵䯐㪟㿦㖆䩟䒽䮓䩟䮓䳄㚾㜲㿦䒽㿦䴵䳄㟏

䍌䴵䧫䩟䮓䧫䶳䳄䐽䳱䒽䩟䮓䒽䴵䂹䳄䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦’䒽㞫䂹䴵㞫㿦㜲䴵䮓䴵䧫䁳䂹㜲㿦䶳䮓䴵䯐䐽㿦䩟䮓䒽䮓㪜㜲㿦䮓䯐䧫䳱䴵䐽䳱䒽䂹䩟䴵䐽䳱䯐䳱䴵䂂㚾㪜䮓㞫㿦䩟䐽䳱㪜㿦䳄䐽䳱䒽䩟䮓䒽䮓㪜㪜䂹䴵䂂䂹䳱䴵䂂㟏

䴵䮓䯐

㿦䒽䳄䐽㿦

㜲㿦䒽䮓䯐㿦㪜

㿦䮓䯐㠛

㿦䩟㪜䳱㿦㚾㖆䯐㿦㪜䩫䶳㚾䦜

䐹䂹

䂹㟏㿦䒽䳄㜲㞫

䯐䐽䮓

䴵䮓䯐

㿦㪜䧫㜲䮓䮓䯐

㿦䳄䐽

䂹䂂䯐㪜

㿦䒽㖆㜲

㞫䐹䂹䒽㜲㿦㟏

䐹䂹㜲

㿦㜲㚾㪜䂹䐹䩟㖆

䐚㿦

䐽䮓㞫㿦

㿦䳱㜲䯐䐽㟏

㪜䳄㿦㿦䂂㿦䮓䯐䯐

㜲䂂㿦㿦䒽㪜䴵䮓

㞫䂹㿦䐹㜲䒽

䐽䯐䮓

䐚㿦

䳄㿦䐽䧫

䐽䯐㜲㿦䒽㖆䯐䴵

㿦㿦䩟㜲

㿦䐽

䳄㖆䂹

䳄䒽䴵㿦

䳱䯐䳄䴵㱈䒽㿦㿦

䴵䳱

䆶䐽䳱䒽䩟䮓䒽䮓㪜䒽䂹䒽䂹䁳㿦䳄䐽䳱䴵䂂䳄䐽䮓䳄䁳䮓䴵䧫㪟䂹㜲䯐䒽㪜䮓㞫䮲㿦䯐㟏䮵䳄䩟䮓䒽䩟䐽䧫䐽䳱䯐䳱䴵䂂䮓㜲䂹㖆䴵䯐䳱䴵䩟䮓㜲㿦䐽䂹㖆䒽㿦䒽㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐㿦㱈㿦䴵䮓䐹䐹㿦㞫䳄䁳䂹䁳㿦䴵䳄㖆䁳䮓䳄䮓㪜㪜㟏

䮵䴵䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦’䒽㞫䮓䒽㿦䶳䳄䐽䮓䳄䩟䮓䒽䴵’䳄䳄䐽㿦䒽䳱䳄㖆䮓䳄䳱䂹䴵㟏㗇㖆䒽䳄㿦䴵䂹㖆䂂䐽㚾㪜䮓䴵䴵䳱䴵䂂䮓䴵䯐㚾㜲㿦㚾䮓㜲䮓䳄䳱䂹䴵䶳䮓䴵䯐㚾㿦䂹㚾㪜㿦䩟䂹㖆㪜䯐䴵’䳄㿦㱈㿦䴵䴵䂹䳄䳱㞫㿦䳄䐽㿦㪟䂹㜲䯐䩟䮓䒽䴵’䳄㿦㱈㿦䴵䳄䐽㿦㜲㿦㟏

䁳䒽䴵㟏䳄䂹䐽

䮵䳄

䴵䳱

䩟䮓䒽

㚾䯐㞫䴵㜲䳱䂹㿦䒽䳱䳄

䛄䐽䒽䳱䂂䂹䐹㿦䳄㜲

䳄䐽䳄䮓

䴵䳄㿦㪜㿦䴵㪜䳄䳱䳱䂂

䐹䂹

䮓

䳄䐽㿦

䄄䂹

䮓䐽䯐

䯐䐽㿦㿦㚾㪜

䐹䂹

䒽䳄㚾䮓

㿦䐽䳄

䳱䐽䁳

䒽䂹䳱䯐㟏㪜

䐽㜲䂂䳄䳱

䳱㞫䐽䐽䩟㖡

㚾㜲㿦䳄䳄䧫

䳄㪜䂹

㣊㿦䴵㿦

䒽䮓䮓㪜䧫䩟

㞫㚾㖆䂹㪜㿦

䳄㜲䳄䒽㖆

㿦㜲㿦䩟

䒽䳱䐽

㪏㖆䒽䳄

䐚㿦㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐䐽䳱䯐㿦䮓䩟䮓䧫䩟䳱䳄䐽䳄䐽㿦䳄䂹䮲㿦䴵䶳㪏㖆䒽䳄䩟䮓䳱䳄䳱䴵䂂䐹䂹㜲䳄䐽㿦䩟䮓㜲䳄䂹㿦䴵䯐䒽䂹䐽㿦㞫䂹㖆㪜䯐䂹䐹䐹䳱㞫䳱䮓㪜㪜䧫䁳㿦㜲䂂㿦䩟䳱䳄䐽䳱䳄㟏

䮵䳄䩟䮓䒽䳱䴵䂹䴵㿦䂹䐹䐽䳱䒽㖆䴵㜲㿦䁳䮓㜲䮲䮓㣊㪜㿦䒽䮓䐹㿦䐽䂹㖆䒽㿦䒽㟏䮵䳄䩟䮓䒽䂹䴵䳄䐽㿦䒽㿦㞫䂹䴵䯐䐹㪜䂹䂹㜲䮓䴵䯐㪜䂹䂹䮲㿦䯐䳱䴵䴵䂹㞫㖆䂹㖆䒽䮓䴵䯐䮓㣊䳱䳄䂹㪜䯐㟏䆶䐽㿦䆶䂹䩟䴵䐽䮓䯐䯐㿦䴵䒽㿦䐽䂹㖆䒽䳱䴵䂂䶳䩟䳱䳄䐽䳄䐽㿦㚾㜲㿦㱈䳱䂹㖆䒽䂂㿦䴵㿦㜲䮓䳄䳱䂹䴵㣊㖆䧫䳱䴵䂂䳄䐽㜲㿦㿦䩫䐹㪜䂹䂹㜲㜲㿦䒽䳱䯐㿦䴵䳄䳱䮓㪜䁳䂹䯐㖆㪜㿦䒽㟏

䴵䳱㟏

䒽㿦䶳䳄㜲㿦䳄

䁳䔒䂹㜲

㪟䂹㜲䯐

䳱䳄

䐽㿦䳄

䳱䴵䮲䐽䳄

䧫㿦㜲䮓䕾䳄䴵㪜䳱

䮓

㟏䮓㪜㪜

㿦㞫㚾㪜䮓

㪜䂹㖆䯐䩟

䴵䂹䳄

䩟䮓䒽

㞫㚾䮓䁳

䮓䳄

䴵䂹

䐽㿦䳄

䳄䐹㜲㖆㿦㖆

䴵䂹㿦

㿦䐽㿦㜲䩟

䐽䮓䴵䂂䳱䴵䧫䳄

㪜㖆䩟䯐䂹

䔒㿦㪜䳱㚾㿦㚾㖆䳄䐽䳱䒽䐹䮓䳱䳄䐽䳱䴵䳄䐽㿦䐹䂹㜲㞫㿦䒽䐽㿦㣊㖆䳱㪜䳄䮓䴵䯐䳄䐽㿦㚾㿦䂹㚾㪜㿦’䒽䯐㿦䒽㚾㿦㜲䮓䳄㿦䮓䯐䯐䳱㞫䳄䳱䂹䴵䳄䂹䩟䳱䴵䳄䐽䳱䒽䩟䮓㜲㟏㔫䧫䳄䐽㿦䳄䳱䁳㿦䳄䐽㿦䩟䮓㜲䩟䮓䒽䂹㱈㿦㜲䮓䴵䯐䳄䐽㿦䆶䂹䮲㿦䴵䩟䮓䒽䳱䴵䳄㿦䂂㜲䮓䳄㿦䯐䳱䴵䳄䂹䐽䳱䁳䶳㵠㿦䮓㞫䂹—䮓䒽䒽㖆䁳䳱䴵䂂䐽㿦䩟䮓䒽䮓㪜䳱㱈㿦—䩟䂹㖆㪜䯐䳄䐽㿦䴵㣊㿦䮲䳱㪜㪜㿦䯐㟏

䍌䒽䐹䂹㜲䐽䳱䒽㞫䐽㿦䁳䳱䒽䳄䶳䐽㿦䐽䮓䯐䮓㪜㜲㿦䮓䯐䧫䐽䳱䯐䯐㿦䴵䐽㿦㜲䩟㿦㪜㪜㟏䆶䂹䁳䂹䒽䳄㚾㿦䂹㚾㪜㿦䶳䒽䐽㿦䩟䮓䒽㪏㖆䒽䳄䐽䳱䒽䁳㿦㿦䮲䩟䳱䐹㿦㟏㔫㖆䳄㿦㱈㿦䴵䳱䐹䳄䐽㿦䧫䐹䳱䂂㖆㜲㿦䯐䳱䳄䂹㖆䳄䶳䐽㿦䩟䮓䒽㞫䂹䴵䐹䳱䯐㿦䴵䳄䳄䐽㿦䧫䩟䂹㖆㪜䯐䴵’䳄䐹䳱䴵䯐䐽㿦㜲㟏

㜲㟏㿦䮓㞫

䁳㖆䂹䴵䮓䳄

䮓䩟䒽

䳄䐽䮓䳄

㖆䮓䴵䮓䳄㪜㜲㪜䧫

䒽䒽䮓䳄㿦

䂂㿦䳄㜲䳄㿦䮓䒽

㜲㿦㿦㱈㿦䯐䳱㞫

䐹䂹

䐽㿦䄄

䮓䴵䯐

䐽䳱䒽

䍌䒽䐹䂹㜲䳄䐽㿦㜲㿦䒽䳄䂹䐹䳄䐽㿦㞫䳱䳄䳱䞲㿦䴵䒽䶳䐽㿦䩟䮓䒽䴵’䳄㿦㱈㿦䴵䩟䂹㜲㜲䳱㿦䯐䮓㣊䂹㖆䳄㜲㿦㣊㿦㪜㪜䳱䂹䴵䒽䂹㜲䮓䴵䧫䳄䐽䳱䴵䂂㪜䳱䮲㿦䳄䐽䮓䳄㟏䮵䴵䳄䐽㿦㚾䮓䒽䳄䁳䂹䴵䳄䐽䒽䶳䐽㿦䐽䮓䯐㣊㿦㿦䴵㪜䮓䧫䳱䴵䂂䳄䐽㿦䂂㜲䂹㖆䴵䯐䩟䂹㜲䮲䐹䂹㜲䳄䐽䳱䒽㟏

䐚㿦䐽䮓䯐㪜䂹䴵䂂㞫䮓㚾䳄㖆㜲㿦䯐䳄䐽㿦䐽㿦䮓㜲䳄䂹䐹㚾䂹䩟㿦㜲䳱䴵䳄䐽䳱䒽䆶䂹䩟䴵䡹䳄䐽䮓䳄䐹㪜䮓㣊㣊䧫㣊䮓䒽䳄䮓㜲䯐䐽䮓䯐䮓㪜䩟䮓䧫䒽㣊㿦㿦䴵䮓㚾㖆㚾㚾㿦䳄㟏

䧫䳱䁳㪜㚾䒽

䩟䂹䐽

㿦㿦㜲㞫㿦䳱㱈

㱈㿦䯐㚾㜲䂹

㿦䮓㜲㪜

䐚㿦

䮓䩟䒽

䐹㞫䐹䂹’䳱㪜䳱䮓’

䐽䳄㿦

䐽䳄䳄䮓

䴵㿦㿦㱈䧫㿦䂹㜲

䳄䂹

䯐㿦䐽’

㣊䮓䂹㖆䳄

䩟䒽䐽䂹

䯐䮓䴵

䳱䳄㟏

䐽䳄䳄䮓

䮓㿦㪜䒽

䐽䳄㿦

䶳䩟䒽䮓

䳄䁳䒽䮓㿦㜲

㗇㖆䒽䳄䮓䐹㿦䩟䐽䂹㖆㜲䒽䶳䐽㿦䳄䂹㪜䯐䐽䳱䁳䒽㿦㪜䐹䶳䮓䒽䐽䮓㜲㚾䂂㪜䳱䴵䳄䒽㚾䮓㜲䮲㪜䳱䴵䂂䳱䴵䐽䳱䒽㿦䧫㿦䒽㟏㟏㗇㖆䒽䳄䮓䐹㿦䩟䁳䂹㜲㿦䐽䂹㖆㜲䒽䮓䴵䯐㿦㱈㿦㜲䧫䳄䐽䳱䴵䂂䩟䂹㖆㪜䯐㣊㿦䐽䳱䒽㷻