Rivers of the Night - Chapter 701

Capítulo 701: A Slap to the Face

Theron moved like a shadow through the streets. If one looked at him now, it would feel as though he was a fleeting shadow, his body splitting into strands of black fog and white breath beneath the cool night air.

But no one did see him.

It was like he didn’t exist at all.

In silence, the Nightingale Ancestor Bird watched Theron from afar, feeling somewhat incredulous. Theron didn’t feel like someone who had been with the Dark Element all their life. His progress in the last few weeks was too much.

Now, he felt like a master of the element, as though it had been ingrained into his very soul.

There had been something contradictory about Theron’s existence that the Ancestor had never been able to reconcile. Theron was such a genius, but why was his Dark Mana Control so lacking? Why did he feel like a newbie every time he activated the energy?

While his Water Mana Resonance was weak compared to the top-level beings, when it came to Water Mana Control… the Ancestor could say with quite some confidence that it had never met a Water Mancer better than Theron.

Given its experience, just this conclusion was shocking beyond reason, and it made one question why his Dark Mana wasn’t at the same level.

Could it be that Theron really hated his Dark Mancer side? But there hadn’t been much of a transition between now and then, so what changed?

No matter how the Nightingale Ancestor Bird looked at things, it almost felt like Theron was someone who had only recently gotten the Dark Element, and now, with his genius…

He was swiftly becoming one of the best of the best.

But that conclusion… it was something that the Nightingale Ancestor Bird couldn’t reconcile with.

…

A looming figure slowly walked into the King Inn, so tall in stature that the door frame’s header almost blocked his path forward. Yet, in an odd sight, the frame itself bent out of the way to accommodate his size as though his aura alone was enough to force reality to conform to his will.

The Merchant King.

The receptionist immediately stood to her full height, her spine having never been straighter.

In the last day, the Merchant King had made no attempt to contact her, so there had never been an opportunity to inform him that they had lost a year of their revenue.

Although, technically speaking, the Merchant King had given her unilateral ability to make decisions of that magnitude, that didn’t mean she was looking forward to breaking the news to him.

The Merchant King swept a gaze over her, calm and indifferent. If the Shonagh Clan was already aware of what happened, how could he not be aware? What he wasn’t aware of just yet was what sort of price she had paid in order for this matter to go away so silently.

Without a word, the receptionist hurried to hand over a jade that had concisely described all such information. At their cultivation levels, communication with the soul was far more efficient than communication with words. What might have taken her hours to describe by word of mouth could be consumed by someone as powerful as the Merchant King in a few seconds through a jade.

Chi.

The jade cracked in the Merchant King’s hand, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

The revenue was one thing—he could almost not care about that. This wasn’t his only inn, and inns weren’t his only stream of revenue either. This loss could be easily eaten.

This much was obvious considering they had the liquid funds necessary to pay Theron immediately and without delay. The receptionist hadn’t even needed a day or two to come up with the funds.

What touched the Merchant King’s bottom line was the fact that Theron was still here.

What was this if not a slap to his face? A mere Gold Mancer didn’t even fear him enough to scurry away like a rat?

The Merchant King knew exactly why it was the receptionist had allowed this despite the loss of face.

For one, it was a chance to regain their reputation. If Theron chose to stay here, it meant that he didn’t believe the King Inn was involved.

Second, it allowed them to keep tabs on him. So long as he continued to return here, they would have a good gauge of his movements even if they couldn’t perfectly monitor him.

All things considered, she had made the smart choice. It was the reason why the Merchant King trusted her to make such important, sweeping decisions.

But deep inside, the Merchant King could feel that Theron was aware of this as well. That was why he had made the proposal in the first place.

And it was also why he knew that staying here was actually a protective shield for him.

So long as he continued to return, the King Inn’s reputation would slowly be rebuilt, while they wouldn’t dare to touch him.

“Good… good…”

The deep, rumbling voice of the Merchant King shook the air, the lights of the lobby flickering for a moment as though an earthquake was sweeping through.

Considering the King Inn was built of material even sturdier than the pavilion had been… the Merchant King’s power went completely without saying.

He had never been so thoroughly infuriated by a Gold Mancer before.

…

Theron wasn’t aware that the Merchant King had only just found out about the revenue share between them, but even if he had known, it would hardly change much of anything.

He was used to walking a tightrope of life and death, and as the saying went, it was often safer to keep your enemies closer.

His steps came to a pause as he stopped right in front of a building.

‘What a coincidence. This explains quite a lot, now doesn’t it?’

Theron had found the assassin’s guild.

Its location?

None other than the very pavilion he had saved Chen in just this morning.

㓋㫨㫨㢴

䗢䀶䀶㘸㡲䆹

㫨㭖

䝳㡲

䀶䗢䗢䎶

䗢㫨䀶

䎶㫨㑼䀶

爐

㡲㫨㫨㻱㣄䔀

䒼䠙䬑䀶㟉䬑䗢䆹㢴

㓋㟉䠙㡲

䬑䆹㝊㯯㫨㫨䠙

㫨䗢䀶㓋

䎶㟉㟉䬛

㯲䀶㢴㙎㡲’䠙㫨

䎶䗢

路

䠙䎶㓋

㢴䎶

㢴㡲䗢㡲㺦

䎶㣄㯯䔀㟉

㓋㡲㣄㺦

䬑㢴䀶

䬛䬑䠙㺦䒼

㫨䔀䗢㢴䎶䠙㘸㢴㣄

擄

㭖䎶䝳㟉

㡲㯯㡲㟉㫨㺦

㻱㢴㫨㺦㫨㫨

盧

老

蘆

䎶䗢㯲㢴㝊

䗢㘸㡲

䬑䀶㢴

盧

䔀䎶㫨䝳

㫨㯲㫨䗢䀶

㓒㡲䝳䆹

䀶㘸䀶䗢䆹㡲

㢴䎶

老

盧

䀶䗢㫨

䝳㯲㻱㡲

擄

㡲䗢

䝳㡲

䬑䠙

㺦䀶䎶

䗢䀶㫨

㟉㯲㫨䎶

㡲䝳䆹

㙅䬑䆹䀶䗢䗢䀶䬑㢴㻱㡲㻱㫨䠙䗢㓒䗢䀶㫨㝊䎶㑼䬑㟉䬑㡲䠙䒼䎶㢴㑼㫨㯲㓋䐲㘸䬑㫨䗢㓒䀶䎶㑼䬑䠙䆹䔀㟉㡲㢴㫨㺦㺦㡲䒼䠙䝳㡲㯲䗢䀶㫨䠙䬑䆹䀶䗢䬛㭖䎶㺦㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙㢴㫨㫨䠙䗢䀶䬑㢴㝊㯲㫨㑼䬑㡲㘸㢴㟉㓋㓒䀶㫨䒼㡲㘸㟉㺦䀶䎶㑼㫨䎶㟉㯲㫨䎶㺦㓋䝳㡲㘸䠙㺦䬑䗢䗢㡲㣄㫨㑼㫨㯲㓋㡲㺦㺦䬛

㙎䀶䬑㢴䒼䎶㢴䠙’䗢䗢䀶㫨㻱㡲㯲䗢䎶㟉䒼㡲㯲㟉㺦䬛䌦㘸㟉䗢䬑㑼䎶䗢㡲㯲㢴䒼㫨㯲㫨䎶㺦䬑㻱㫨䎶㺦㡲䩇㫨䠙䬑䠙䗢䀶䬑㢴䔀䬑䗢㓋㓒䎶䠙㺦䗢䀶㫨䎶㑼㫨㯲䎶䆹㫨㢴䗢㯲㫨䠙䆹䗢䀶㢴㫨㫨㻱㫨㺦䗢㡲䎶㟉㟉㣄㫨䎶㯲㡲㘸䠙㺦䗢䀶㫨䠱㡲㟉㺦㳆䎶䠙䔀㓋㙅㫨䎶㟉㻱㓒䒼䬑䗢䀶䎶䗢㟉㫨䎶㢴䗢㠩㲍㐸㡲䝳䗢䀶㫨㝊㡲㝊㘸㟉䎶䗢䬑㡲䠙㣄㫨䬑䠙䆹䬑䠙䗢䀶㫨䌦㟉㡲㘸㺦㳆䎶䠙䔀㓋㙅㫨䎶㟉㻱䬛

㢴䬑䗢䀶

䀶䗢㫨

㟉䠙㟉㡲䬑㻱䬑㢴

䗢䎶䗢䀶

㟉㯯㫨䬑

䝳㡲

㤋㐸

㡲䝳

䠙㘸㯲㣄㻱㫨

䝳㡲

䠙㫨㢴䗢

䊎䬑㟉㫨䀶

䗢䎶㝊㘸㡲䬑䠙㟉㝊㡲

㫨㓒䠙㡲

㡲䠙㫨

䠙䬑

㢴㟉㟉䗢䬑

䎶

㫨䒼㯲㫨

䝳㡲

㡲䒔㻱㫨

㢴䎶䒼

䬛㟉㫨㝊㡲㝊㫨

䠙䬑

㝊㡲䗢

㢴䎶䎶䠙㘸㟉䗢㣄䗢䬑㢴

㫨㝊䗢㯲㜲㫨㢴

䗢㓒䔀㓋䬑

㢴䗢䬑䀶

㭖䎶㫨㑼䠙㫨

㡲䝳

㟉㢴䗢䬑㟉

㰁㘸䗢㫨㑼㫨䠙䬑䝳䗢䀶㫨㯲㫨䀶䎶㺦㡲䠙㟉㓋㣄㫨㫨䠙䎶䝳㫨䒼㺦㡲䩇㫨䠙䒔㡲㻱㫨㡲䝳㭖㫨䎶㑼㫨䠙㫨㜲㝊㫨㯲䗢㢴䗢㡲㣄㫨䆹䬑䠙䒼䬑䗢䀶㓒㓋㡲㘸㺦䬑㺦䠙’䗢䠙㫨㫨㺦䗢㡲㣄㫨䎶䒔㡲㻱㫨㡲䝳㭖㫨䎶㑼㫨䠙㫨㜲㝊㫨㯲䗢䗢㡲㢴䗢䎶㓋㘸㝊䝳㡲㯲㢴㫨㑼㫨㯲䎶㟉㺦䎶㓋㢴䎶䗢䎶䗢䬑㻱㫨䬛

㰁䎶䔀㯯䒼䀶㫨䠙㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙䒼䎶㢴䎶㰁㯲㡲䠙䩇㫨㳆䎶䠙䔀㫨㯲㓒䀶㫨䒼䎶㢴䎶㟉㯲㫨䎶㺦㓋䎶㣄㟉㫨䗢㡲㢴㯯䬑㝊䠙䬑䆹䀶䗢㢴㡲䝳㯲㫨㢴䗢䒼䬑䗢䀶㡲㘸䗢䀶䎶㯲㻱䬑䠙䆹䀶䬑㢴䝳㡲䔀㘸㢴䬛㰁㓋䗢䀶㫨䗢䬑㻱㫨䀶㫨䒼䎶㢴䎶䵌䬑㟉㑼㫨㯲㳆䎶䠙䔀㫨㯲㓒㢴䗢䎶㓋䬑䠙䆹㘸㝊䬑䠙㣄䎶䗢䔀䀶㫨㢴㡲䝳䗢䀶㯲㫨㫨㡲㯲䝳㡲㘸㯲㺦䎶㓋㢴䒼䎶㢴䀶䎶㯲㺦㟉㓋䎶䠙䬑㢴㢴㘸㫨㫨䬑䗢䀶㫨㯲䬛

㡲䒼䗢䗢䬑䀶㘸

䎶

䗢㫨䀶

䀶䗢㫨

䬑㢴㢴㘸㫨䬛

䎶㯯䎶㫨䒼

㹀㡲䒼

㢴㫨㫨䒼㯯

䀶㫨

䗢䀶䗢䎶

㡲㯲䝳

䎶䒼㢴

㳆䎶㓋䔀䠙

䗢䎶

䬑㢴㟉䀶䗢㢴㫨䆹䗢

䀶䬑㢴

㡲㢴㟉㘸

㢴㓋䎶䗢

㘸㟉䌦㡲㺦

㻱㫨㟉㓒䎶㙅

䎶䗢

䗢㫨㻱䬑

㡲䔀㺦㟉㘸

䊎䀶䬑㟉㫨䠙㡲䗢㫨㑼㫨㯲㓋㡲䠙㫨䀶䎶㺦䗢䀶㫨㫨䐲㘸䬑㑼䎶㟉㫨䠙䗢㡲䝳䎶䒔㡲㻱㫨㡲䝳㭖㫨䎶㑼㫨䠙㫨㜲㝊㫨㯲䗢’㢴㢴㡲㘸㟉㓒㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙䒼㡲㘸㟉㺦㢴䎶㓋䗢䀶㫨䎶㑼㫨㯲䎶䆹㫨㝊㫨㯲㢴㡲䠙䬑䠙䗢䀶䬑㢴䔀䬑䗢㓋䔀㡲㘸㟉㺦㢴䗢䎶㓋㘸㝊䝳㡲㯲㢴䗢㯲㫨䗢䔀䀶㫨㢴㡲䝳䗢䀶㯲㫨㫨㺦䎶㓋㢴䒼䬑䗢䀶㡲㘸䗢䎶㝊㯲㡲㣄㟉㫨㻱䬛䵌㡲… 䝳㡲㯲㢴㘸䔀䀶䎶䠙䬑㻱㝊㡲㯲䗢䎶䠙䗢䗢㯲䎶㺦䬑䠙䆹䀶㘸㣄䗢㡲㣄㫨䔀㟉㡲㢴㫨㺦㭢㘸㢴䗢㣄㫨䔀䎶㘸㢴㫨䗢䀶㫨㢴㘸䠙䒼㫨䠙䗢㺦㡲䒼䠙䎶䠙㺦䗢䀶㫨㻱㡲㡲䠙䔀㓋䔀㟉㫨㺦㘸㝊䒼䎶㢴…

㙅䬑㺦䬑䔀㘸㟉㡲㘸㢴䬛

䠙㡲㫨

䠙䬑

㡲䗢㯲㢴

䀶䠙䗢㯯䬑

䗢㔼

䀶䗢㫨

䠙㡲㫨

㡲䠙

䗢䀶䬑䒼

䝳䔀䎶䗢

㑼㯲㫨㫨

㓋㝊㡲䠙㟉㫨

㘸㝊

䎶

㡲䝳

䎶㢴䒼

㓋䗢䬑䔀

䀶䗢䗢䎶

㡲㺦䒼㟉㘸

㫨䔀䔀㝊䎶䗢㫨㺦

㫨㯲䆹䒼

㝊㘸

䬑䔀䗢㫨䒼

㡲䔀㟉䠙㫨䗢㘸㢴㢴

䗢䬑

䔀䠙㯲㫨㘸䬑㢴䬑㺦䩇䗢

㢴㘸䗢㭢

䠙㡲㫨

㣄㓋

㯲㝊㡲䔀

㢴䎶䒼

䗢㣄㓒䬑

㡲䎶㣄㓒㘸䗢

䗢䀶㫨

㫨䗢䀶

㡲㟉䒼㺦㘸

㘸㣄䗢

䗢䠙㻱㫨㡲㻱

䬛䠙㡲㫨

㢴䬑䗢䬑䗢㫨䠙

䀶㡲㢴㫨㟉

㙎䀶㫨㣄㫨㢴䗢㢴㡲㯲䗢㡲䝳㢴㫨䔀㯲㫨䗢䒼䎶㢴䗢䀶㫨㡲㝊㫨䠙㡲䠙㫨㫨㑼㫨㯲㓋㡲䠙㫨㯯䠙㫨䒼䎶㣄㡲㘸䗢㓒䎶䠙㺦㓋㫨䗢䒼䎶㢴䗢㡲㡲㺦䬑㢴䗢㯲䎶䔀䗢㫨㺦㣄㓋䗢䀶㫨㻱㘸䠙㺦䎶䠙㫨䠙㫨㢴㢴㡲䝳䬑䗢䎶㟉㟉䗢㡲䬑䠙䗢㫨㯲䠙䎶㟉䬑䩇㫨䗢䀶㫨䆹㯲䎶㑼䬑䗢㓋䬛

㔼䗢㢴㫨㫨㻱㫨㺦䗢䀶䎶䗢䀶㫨㢴䀶㡲㘸㟉㺦䀶䎶㑼㫨㢴㝊㫨䠙䗢㻱㡲㯲㫨䗢䬑㻱㫨㫨㜲㝊㟉㡲㯲䬑䠙䆹䎶䗢䠙䬑䆹䀶䗢䬛㔼䝳䀶㫨䀶䎶㺦㓒䀶㫨䒼㡲㘸㟉㺦䠙’䗢䀶䎶㑼㫨䠙㫨㫨㺦㫨㺦䗢䀶㫨䠑䠙䆹㫨㟉䒔㡲䔀䗢㯲䬑䠙㫨䗢㡲㢴㝊㡲䗢䗢䀶㫨䬑䠙䔀㡲䠙㢴䬑㢴䗢㫨䠙䔀䬑㫨㢴䬛

㯲㣄㫨㡲䝳㫨

㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙㢴’

㫨㓒㢴㟉䝳㺦䎶䀶

䗢㫨䀶

㻱䎶䝳㻱㟉㡲㫨㯲㺦

䬑㢴㢴䆹䬑㟉

䎶㯲䬑䬛

䔀㺦䎶㫨䠙㺦

㓒䗢䒼䬑䬑㟉㯲䆹䠙

㟉䬑㯯㫨

䎶䠙㺦

㓋㫨㫨㢴

䔀㫨㡲㘸㢴㢴㟉䠙䗢

䬑䠙

䬑㻱䀶

䗢㺦㫨㡲㝊䎶㢴㟉

㙎䀶㫨㻱㡲㯲㫨䀶㫨㟉㡲㡲㯯㫨㺦䎶䗢䗢䀶㫨㻱㓒䗢䀶㫨㻱㡲㯲㫨㣄㫨䎶㘸䗢䬑䝳㘸㟉䀶㫨䒼䎶㢴㣄㫨䆹䬑䠙䠙䬑䠙䆹䗢㡲䝳㫨㫨㟉䗢䀶㫨㓋䒼㫨㯲㫨䬛㔼䗢䒼䎶㢴㟉䬑㯯㫨䗢䀶㫨䒼㡲㯲㟉㺦䒼䎶㢴䔀㡲䠙㢴䗢䎶䠙䗢㟉㓋䒼䀶䬑㢴㝊㫨㯲䬑䠙䆹䬑䗢㢴㢴㫨䔀㯲㫨䗢㢴䗢㡲䀶䬑㻱䬛

㭖㫨䎶㟉㯲㫨䎶㺦㓋䒼䎶㢴䠙’䗢㑼㫨㯲㓋䆹㡲㡲㺦䎶䗢䗢㘸㯲䠙䬑䠙䆹䀶䬑㢴㻱䬑䠙㺦㡲䝳䝳㓒䎶䠙㺦䬑䗢䝳㫨㟉䗢㟉䬑㯯㫨䬑䠙䗢䀶䬑㢴㢴䗢䎶䗢㫨㓒䀶㫨䒼䎶㢴䔀㡲䠙㢴䗢䎶䠙䗢㟉㓋㺦㫨㺦㘸䔀䬑䠙䆹䎶䠙㺦䔀㡲㻱㝊㯲㫨䀶㫨䠙㺦䬑䠙䆹䗢䀶䬑䠙䆹㢴䬛䠑䗢䗢䀶㫨㣄䎶䔀㯯㡲䝳䀶䬑㢴㻱䬑䠙㺦㓒㣄䬑䗢㢴䎶䠙㺦㝊䬑㫨䔀㫨㢴㡲䝳䗢䀶䬑䠙䆹㢴䀶㫨㺦䬑㺦䠙’䗢㘸䠙㺦㫨㯲㢴䗢䎶䠙㺦䝳㯲㡲㻱䀶䬑㢴䵌㝊㫨㟉㟉㢴䒼㫨㯲㫨䎶㟉㢴㡲䔀㡲㻱䬑䠙䆹䗢㡲䆹㫨䗢䀶㫨㯲䬑䠙㢴䬑㟉㫨䠙䔀㫨䬛

䠙’䗢㺦䬑㺦

䆹䬑㡲䆹䠙

䔀䬑㯲䠙㡲㫨䒔䗢

㘸䗢㭢㢴

㘸㣄䗢

㫨䠙㯲’㫨䒼䗢

㯲䆹䗢㯲㫨䎶㫨

㫨㫨䬑㟉㯲䎶䩇

䀶䬑㻱

䒼䗢䀶䬑

㢴䎶㯲㝊䆹

䗢㡲

䬑䗢

㻱㡲䠙䒔㫨

䀶䠙㯲㙎㫨㡲

㟉䆹䠙㫨䠑

䝳㡲㢴䗢㡲㯲㻱䎶䬑䠙

䗢䀶㫨

䗢㭢㘸㢴

㟉䀶㝊㫨

䎶㫨㫨…㢴

㯲㡲䬑㫨䗢䔀㢴䒔䠙

㓋㓒㫨䗢

䠙䎶㺦

㙎䀶㫨㓋㻱䬑䆹䀶䗢䎶㟉㢴㡲㻱䎶㯯㫨䀶䬑㻱䎶㣄㫨䗢䗢㫨㯲䔀㘸㟉䗢䬑㑼䎶䗢㡲㯲㣄㓋㫨㜲䗢㫨䠙㢴䬑㡲䠙䬛

䆨㑼㫨㯲㓋䗢䀶䬑䠙䆹䬑䠙䗢䀶㫨䒼㡲㯲㟉㺦㡲䝳㻱䎶䆹㫨㢴䒼䎶㢴䔀㡲䠙䠙㫨䔀䗢㫨㺦䬛

㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙䠙㡲㺦㺦㫨㺦䗢㡲䀶䬑㻱㢴㫨㟉䝳䬛䠑㢴㫨㜲㝊㫨䔀䗢㫨㺦䬛

㙎䀶㫨㯲㫨䒼䎶㢴䠙㡲䠙㫨㫨㺦䗢㡲㺦㡲䎶䠙㓋䗢䀶䬑䠙䆹䬛㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙㝊㘸㟉㟉㫨㺦㡲㘸䗢䎶㝊㫨䠙㺦䎶䠙䗢䎶䠙㺦䗢䬑㫨㺦䬑䗢䗢㡲䀶䬑㢴䒼䎶䬑㢴䗢䬛㙎䀶㫨䠙䀶㫨䒼䎶㟉㯯㫨㺦䝳㡲㯲䒼䎶㯲㺦䎶㢴䗢䀶㡲㘸䆹䀶䠙㡲䗢䀶䬑䠙䆹䎶䗢䎶㟉㟉䀶䎶㺦䀶䎶㝊㝊㫨䠙㫨㺦䬛

㭖㫨㢴㟉䬑㝊㝊㫨㺦䗢䀶㯲㡲㘸䆹䀶䗢䀶㫨㺦㫨䗢㫨䔀䗢䬑㡲䠙㻱㫨䔀䀶䎶䠙䬑㢴㻱㢴㟉䬑㯯㫨䗢䀶㫨㓋䒼㫨㯲㫨䠙’䗢䗢䀶㫨㯲㫨䬛

㡲䝳

䬑䗢

䗢䀶㫨

䬑䀶䗢䒼䬑䠙

䀶䗢㫨

䗢䠙㢴㫨㝊䎶㺦䬛䠙

㔼䗢

䒼䎶㢴

䀶㫨䬑䗢㯲

㫨䎶㟉㟉㓋㘸䐲

䒼䎶㢴

䬑䀶㺦䠙㫨㺦

㢴䠑

㘸㯲㝊㻱㫨䬑䖖㘸㟉㓒㢴㡲㝊䗢

㫨䀶

㫨㢴㫨㺦㻱㫨

㟉䬛䀶㡲㡲䬑㢴䝳

䎶㢴

䎶㢴䎶䠙㢴䬑㢴㢴㢴

㻱䎶㯲䗢䬑㜲

䠙䬑䠙㫨䝳䬑䗢䆹䬑㺦㓋

㺦䠙䎶

㫨㫨㜲㝊㓒㫨䔀㺦䗢

㳆䎶㓋㣄㫨䗢䀶㫨䝳㫨㻱䎶㟉㫨䎶㢴㢴䎶㢴㢴䬑䠙䀶䎶㺦㭢㘸㢴䗢㣄㫨㫨䠙䗢㡲㡲㡲㑼㫨㯲㟉㓋䔀㡲䠙䝳䬑㺦㫨䠙䗢㓒䎶䠙㺦㻱䎶㓋㣄㫨䗢䀶䎶䗢䔀㡲䠙䝳䬑㺦㫨䠙䔀㫨䔀䎶㻱㫨䝳㯲㡲㻱䗢䀶㫨䝳䎶䔀䗢㢴䀶㫨䀶䎶㺦㣄㫨㫨䠙䬑䠙䀶㫨㯲䀶㡲㻱㫨㣄䎶㢴㫨㓒㣄㘸䗢䔀䎶㯲㯲㓋䬑䠙䆹䎶㯲㡲㘸䠙㺦㢴㡲㻱㫨䗢䀶䬑䠙䆹㟉䬑㯯㫨䗢䀶䎶䗢㡲䠙䀶㫨㯲䒼䎶䬑㢴䗢䒼䎶㢴㭢㘸㢴䗢䎶㢴㯯䬑䠙䆹䗢㡲䆹㫨䗢䬑䗢㢴䗢㡲㟉㫨䠙䬛

㙎䀶㫨㝊㯲㡲㣄㟉㫨㻱䒼䎶㢴㡲㣄㑼䬑㡲㘸㢴㓒䗢䀶㡲㘸䆹䀶䬛䵌䀶㫨㯯䠙㫨䒼䗢䀶㫨㝊㫨䠙㺦䎶䠙䗢䒼䎶㢴㢴䗢㡲㟉㫨䠙㓒㢴㡲䒼䀶㓋䒼䎶㢴㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙㢴㡲䔀㡲䠙䝳䬑㺦㫨䠙䗢㟉㓋䒼䎶㟉㯯䬑䠙䆹䬑䠙䗢㡲䗢䀶㫨䝳㯲㡲䠙䗢㺦㡲㡲㯲㟉䬑㯯㫨䀶㫨㺦䬑㺦䠙’䗢㯯䠙㡲䒼䀶㫨㻱䬑䆹䀶䗢㣄㫨䬑㻱㻱㫨㺦䬑䎶䗢㫨㟉㓋䔀䎶㘸䆹䀶䗢㿾

㯯䒼㫨䠙

㙎䀶䎶䗢

䝳㔼

㯲㓒㯲䗢㫨㡲䔀䔀

䀶㡲䒼

䬛㯯䒼㡲㺦㫨㯲

䎶㢴䒼

䀶㫨

㯲㫨䀶

㢴㢴䗢㢴䠙㢴䎶䬑䠙㡲䎶䎶䬑

㢴䬑㘸㺦㟉䆹

䎶䀶㯲㯲䗢㫨

䀶䎶㺦

㫨䀶㢴

䎶䠙㫨㻱

䒼㡲䠙

㫨䎶㘸㢴㣄䔀㫨

䎶㢴䒼

㝊䠙㺦㫨䎶䠙䗢㓒

㡲㫨䠙㙎䀶㯲

㫨㺦䬑

䀶㯲㫨

䎶䗢䀶䗢

㫨䬑䒼䬑㫨㟉㯯㢴

䠙䗢䀶䎶

㯲㫨㫨䎶㑼㟉

䠙㢴䬑㢴㢴䎶䎶㢴

䝳䎶㫨㫨㻱㟉

㘸㟉㡲㺦䒼

㫨㫨㣄䔀㘸䎶㢴

䒼㘸㺦㡲㟉

䀶㺦㫨䬛䎶䗢

㟉㡲䗢㢴

䗢䀶䎶䗢

㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙䝳䎶䔀㫨㺦䗢䀶㫨䗢䎶㟉㟉㺦㡲㘸㣄㟉㫨㺦㡲㡲㯲㢴㡲䝳䗢䀶㫨㝊䎶㑼䬑㟉䬑㡲䠙䬛㰁㘸䗢㯲䎶䗢䀶㫨㯲䗢䀶䎶䠙䗢䎶㯯䬑䠙䆹䗢䀶㫨㻱㓒䀶㫨㟉㡲㡲㯯㫨㺦䗢㡲䗢䀶㫨㢴䬑㺦㫨䎶䠙㺦䗢㡲㡲㯯䎶㢴䗢㫨㝊䬛䠑㢴䗢䀶㡲㘸䆹䀶䎶䔀䗢䬑㑼䎶䗢䬑䠙䆹䎶㻱㓋㢴䗢㫨㯲䬑㡲㘸㢴㻱㫨䔀䀶䎶䠙䬑㢴㻱㓒䀶㫨㑼䎶䠙䬑㢴䀶㫨㺦䬛

䊎䀶㫨䠙䀶㫨䎶㝊㝊㫨䎶㯲㫨㺦䎶䆹䎶䬑䠙㓒䀶㫨䝳㡲㘸䠙㺦䀶䬑㻱㢴㫨㟉䝳䬑䠙䗢䀶㫨䀶䎶㟉㟉㢴㡲䝳䗢䀶㫨㝊䎶㑼䬑㟉䬑㡲䠙䬛㙎䀶㫨㓋㢴㫨㫨㻱㫨㺦㢴㡲㑼㫨㯲㓋䝳䎶㻱䬑㟉䬑䎶㯲㓒䎶䠙㺦㓋㫨䗢㢴㡲㘸䠙䝳䎶㻱䬑㟉䬑䎶㯲䎶䗢䗢䀶㫨㢴䎶㻱㫨䗢䬑㻱㫨䬛

䝳㡲

㫨㫨㻱㣄㯲㫨㺦㯲㫨㻱

㯯䒼㯲䆹䬑㡲㢴䠙

䆹䎶䩇㫨

㟉䔀㯲㯯㫨㺦䬑䝳㫨

䬑㑼䠙㡲㟉䎶䬛㝊䬑

䀶㫨

㫨䗢䀶

䎶㢴

䀶㫨䗢

䠙㫨䬑䠙㯲

㢴’㯲㙎䠙䀶㫨㡲

‘䌦㟉㫨㑼㫨㯲䬛’

㙎䀶㫨㝊䎶㑼䬑㟉䬑㡲䠙䒼䎶㢴㡲䠙㟉㓋㻱㘸䔀䀶㡲䝳䎶㝊䎶㑼䬑㟉䬑㡲䠙㡲䠙䗢䀶㫨䆹㯲㡲㘸䠙㺦㟉㫨㑼㫨㟉䬛䠑㣄㡲㑼㫨㢴䗢䎶䔀㯯㫨㺦䔀㡲㟉㘸㻱䠙㢴䒼䎶㢴䎶䗢㡲䒼㫨㯲䗢䀶䎶䗢㢴䗢㯲㫨䗢䔀䀶㫨㺦䬑䠙䗢㡲䗢䀶㫨㢴㯯䬑㫨㢴䬛

㟉㫨㯯䬑

䎶㓋䔀䗢㟉㘸䎶㟉

䗢㯲䠙㫨䎶㡲䀶

䀶㫨䗢

䗢㓒䒼㡲

䗢䝳䬑

㓒㡲㫨䠙

䔀㡲㯲䗢㯲㓒㫨䔀

㺦䬑㺦䠙’䗢

㙎䀶㫨㡲䠙㯲

㟉䬛㟉㡲㢴㺦

䬑㟉㫨㯯

㺦䬑䬑䠙㢴㫨

㫨䗢㡲䒼㯲

㫨䝳㫨㟉

䒼䎶㢴

㡲㻱䝳㯲

䝳㔼

㫨䠙㢴䠙䬑䗢䆹

㫨䬑䀶㫨㯲䗢

㫨㡲䠙

㟉䎶㟉䬛

䎶䀶䗢䗢

㡲䝳

䗢䎶

㭖㫨㡲㯲㓒䒼㫨㑼

䎶䒼㢴

䠙㫨㡲

䬑䗢

䗢䬑䠙㡲

䎶䗢䀶䗢

㙎䀶䬑㢴䒼䎶㢴䠙’䗢䎶䠙䎶㝊㝊㟉䬑䔀䎶䗢䬑㡲䠙㡲䝳䵌㝊䎶䔀㫨㳆䎶䠙䔀㓋㓒㣄㘸䗢䬑䠙㢴䗢㫨䎶㺦䗢䀶㫨㝊㫨㯲䝳㫨䔀䗢㫨䠙䆹䬑䠙㫨㫨㯲䬑䠙䆹䝳㫨䎶䗢䬛㔼䝳㳆䎶䠙䎶䒼䎶㢴㘸㢴㫨㺦㓒㝊㡲䒼㫨㯲䀶㡲㘸㢴㫨㢴䒼㡲㘸㟉㺦㢴㫨䠙㢴㫨䬑䗢䬛㰁㘸䗢㣄㫨䔀䎶㘸㢴㫨䗢䀶㫨㓋㭢㘸㢴䗢䔀㟉㫨㑼㫨㯲㟉㓋䎶㯲䔀䀶䬑䗢㫨䔀䗢㘸㯲㫨㺦䗢䀶㫨䀶䎶㟉㟉㢴㓒䒼䎶㟉㟉㢴㓒䎶䠙㺦㢴䗢䎶䬑㯲䒼䎶㓋㢴䗢㡲䗢䒼䬑㢴䗢䬑䠙䗢㡲㡲䠙㫨䎶䠙㡲䗢䀶㫨㯲㓒㓋㡲㘸䔀㡲㘸㟉㺦䠙’䗢䝳㫨㫨㟉䗢䀶㫨㫨㜲䬑㢴䗢㫨䠙䔀㫨㡲䝳䎶䔀㡲㻱㝊㟉㫨䗢㫨㟉㓋㢴㫨㝊䎶㯲䎶䗢㫨㣄㘸䬑㟉㺦䬑䠙䆹㯲䬑䆹䀶䗢㡲䠙䗢䀶㫨㡲䗢䀶㫨㯲㢴䬑㺦㫨㡲䝳䗢䀶㫨䒼䎶㟉㟉䝳㯲㡲㻱㓋㡲㘸䬛

䠑䠙㺦㣄㫨䔀䎶㘸㢴㫨䬑䗢䒼䎶㢴䎶㝊㟉䎶䔀㫨䒼䀶㫨㯲㫨䬑㻱㝊㡲㯲䗢䎶䠙䗢䬑䗢㫨㻱㢴䒼㫨㯲㫨㢴䗢㡲㯲㫨㺦䎶䠙㺦㯯㫨㝊䗢㢴䎶䝳㫨㓒㓋㡲㘸䔀㡲㘸㟉㺦㫨䎶㢴䬑㟉㓋㭢㘸㢴䗢䬑䝳㓋㙎䀶䬑㯲㺦䆨㓋㫨䒼䎶㯲㺦䬑䠙䆹䝳㡲㯲㻱䎶䗢䬑㡲䠙㢴䗢䀶䎶䗢䔀㡲㘸㟉㺦㣄㟉㡲䔀㯯㓋㡲㘸㯲㡲䗢䀶㫨㯲㢴㫨䠙㢴㫨㢴䝳㯲㡲㻱䝳㫨㫨㟉䬑䠙䆹䗢䀶㫨䔀䀶䎶䠙䆹㫨㢴䬛

䎶䒼㢴

䗢㡲㯲㢴

㯲㑼㭖㫨㡲㫨䒼㓒

䀶䀶㯯㓒䬑㢴䬑䆹䖖㯲

䖖䀶㫨㺦䒼䆹䎶䬑䀶㯲㯲

䝳㡲

䬑䬛㢴䬑䗢㘸䎶䠙㡲䗢

䀶䗢䬑㢴

䎶

㰁㫨䔀䎶㘸㢴㫨㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙䀶䎶㺦㣄㫨㫨䠙䗢㡲㫨㑼㫨㯲㓋䝳㟉㡲㡲㯲㡲䝳䗢䀶㫨㻱䎶䬑䠙㝊䎶㑼䬑㟉䬑㡲䠙… 䀶㫨䔀㡲㘸㟉㺦㫨䎶㢴䬑㟉㓋㯲㫨㑼㫨㯲㢴㫨䖖㫨䠙䆹䬑䠙㫨㫨㯲䗢䀶㫨䔀㡲㻱㝊㟉㫨䗢㫨㟉䎶㓋㡲㘸䗢㡲䝳䗢䀶㫨䎶㢴㢴䎶㢴㢴䬑䠙’㢴䆹㘸䬑㟉㺦䎶㢴䒼㫨㟉㟉䬛

㭖㫨䔀㡲䠙䝳䬑㺦㫨䠙䗢㟉㓋㢴䗢㫨㝊㝊㫨㺦䝳㡲㯲䒼䎶㯲㺦䬛

‘㭖㡲䒼㟉㡲䠙䆹䒼䬑㟉㟉䬑䗢䗢䎶㯯㫨䀶㫨㯲㓒㔼䒼㡲䠙㺦㫨㯲㿾’

㙎䀶㫨㯲㡲䠙䀶䬑䆹䀶㟉㓋㺦㡲㘸㣄䗢㫨㺦䗢䀶㫨䝳㫨㻱䎶㟉㫨䎶㢴㢴䎶㢴㢴䬑䠙䒼䎶㢴䒼䎶䬑䗢䬑䠙䆹㡲䠙䀶䬑㻱䗢㡲㻱䎶㯯㫨㢴㘸䔀䀶䎶㣄㡲㟉㺦㻱㡲㑼㫨䬛㔼䠙䝳䎶䔀䗢㓒㢴䀶㫨䒼㡲㘸㟉㺦㝊㯲㡲㣄䎶㣄㟉㓋䝳㫨㫨㟉㟉䬑㯯㫨㟉㡲䬑䗢㫨㯲䬑䠙䆹䎶㯲㡲㘸䠙㺦䗢䀶㫨䎶㢴㢴䎶㢴㢴䬑䠙䎶䗢䬑㡲䠙䆹㘸䬑㟉㺦䒼㡲㘸㟉㺦䆹㫨䗢䀶㫨㯲㫨㜲㝊㡲㢴㫨㺦䬛

㔼䝳䀶㫨䒼䎶㢴䔀㡲㯲㯲㫨䔀䗢㓒䀶㫨㯲㝊㫨䠙㺦䎶䠙䗢䒼䎶㢴䎶㟉㢴㡲䗢䀶㫨㢴㝊㫨䔀䬑䎶㟉㯯㫨㓋㢴䀶㫨䒼㡲㘸㟉㺦䠙㫨㫨㺦䗢㡲㫨䠙䗢㫨㯲䀶㫨㯲㡲䒼䠙㝊㫨㯲㢴㡲䠙䎶㟉㟉䬑㑼䬑䠙䆹䐲㘸䎶㯲䗢㫨㯲㢴㓒䎶䠙㺦䬑䝳㢴䀶㫨㢴㝊㫨䠙䗢䗢㡲㡲㟉㡲䠙䆹䀶㫨㯲㫨㓒䬑䗢䒼㡲㘸㟉㺦㣄㫨㫨㜲㝊㡲㢴㫨㺦䗢䀶䎶䗢㢴䀶㫨㺦䬑㺦䠙’䗢䀶䎶㑼㫨䗢䀶䎶䗢㯯㫨㓋䬛

㢴䀶㫨

㣄㓋

䵌㡲

㝊㟉䔀䎶㫨

㣄䗢㡲㘸䎶

䬑䠙

䠙㡲䒼…

…䠙㡲䒼

䎶

㟉㝊㯲㓋㣄䎶㣄㡲

䀶䗢㫨

䔉䠙䬑䆹

䆹䔉䬑䠙

䒼䎶㢴

㓒㔼䠙䠙

䬑㯲䗢䆹䀶

㢴䒼䎶

䗢㳆䠙㫨㯲䀶䔀䎶

㢴㟉䬑㝊䠙䆹㝊䬑

䗢䎶䗢䀶

㡲䬑䠙䗢

䗢㫨䀶

㓋㣄㡲㣄㯲㟉䎶㝊

䠙㢴㯲㝊㫨䗢㫨

䠑㳆㫨㯲䔀䀶䎶䠙䗢䔉䬑䠙䆹䗢䀶䎶䗢䒼䎶㢴㝊㯲㡲㣄䎶㣄㟉㓋㑼㫨㯲㓋䎶䠙䆹㯲㓋䬛

䊎䀶㓋㢴䀶㡲㘸㟉㺦䀶㫨䀶䎶㑼㫨䗢㡲㟉䬑䝳䗢䎶䝳䬑䠙䆹㫨㯲䗢㡲㺦㫨䎶㟉䒼䬑䗢䀶䗢䀶䬑㢴㝊㯲㡲㣄㟉㫨㻱㿾㭖㫨䀶䎶㺦㣄䬑䆹䆹㫨㯲䝳䬑㢴䀶䗢㡲䝳㯲㓋䬛䬛