"Crack!"

The saltwater-soaked whip lashed onto one of the troublemakers, and he writhed in agony, twisting his body, but to no avail.

The whips in the police station are far more formidable than those outside; these whips are specifically prepared to deal with some "unruly" individuals.

These whips are made from dozens of strips of bull neck leather.

After tanning, the cowhide becomes very hard and more resilient. These strips are about two to three millimeters wide, leaving sharp edges, and are woven tightly together.

They need to be kept at a certain humidity, not too dry, as dryness can cause cracks, and not too damp, as that would make them soft.

The police station has dedicated personnel to look after these whips, and indeed, it's worth it.

When the whip strikes a person, a "#" shaped mark forms at the point of impact, initially swelling up, and the entire wound area rises.

The skin, bearing noticeable scars, cracks during the swelling process and oozes blood, though not much bleeds out.

Before use, the whips are dipped in concentrated saltwater, and the opened skin begins to absorb the saltwater, causing further tearing, and the saltwater infusion triggers even more intense pain.

Interestingly, these whips do not create large wounds, and since they are soft, they don't directly cause compression or mechanical damage to organs. The saltwater helps with disinfection as well.

Using such a whip could mean a day-long beating, yet not result in death.

Just two or three days of slight treatment, and the punished can recover enough to endure more punishment.

Usually, a small offense earns about ten lashes, but the guy in the interrogation room today has been whipped for more than half an hour.

The police station director was shirtless, his thick chest hair exuding an overwhelming stench, as he swung the whip fiercely down.

"Crack!"

He didn't ask questions, not about who sent him to cause trouble at Lynch's recruitment site, nor who else was involved, nor if there were accomplices.

With decades of experience in wrestling with these scoundrels, the police station director knew that asking too many questions before their breakdown would only help them resist more. It's better to not ask at all and just beat them until they speak on their own.

This is more effective than anything; this is the police station director's experience.

With every lash landing on him, the young man strung up screamed out, like fish at the seaside awaiting dissection, fish out of water.

No matter how hard they struggle when strung up, several adults can't hold them down, but as time passes, they die on their own, just like this young man.

Another lash, "Crack!" The police station director's eyes were sinister, his facial muscles stiff, as he cast an angry glance at the hanging young man, turned, and soaked the whip in saltwater.

Beating people is also a physical task; don't think it's easy. Those with such thoughts probably have never fought or hit anyone.

Actually, it requires considerable effort; for a normal adult, lasting more than three minutes in intense altercation indicates notable stamina.

Many people can't even hold out for three minutes.

The police station director, tired after so many lashes, drank a sip of water, panted slightly for a bit, then silently picked up the whip and struck hard once more.

The first lash after soaking in saltwater is always particularly heavy. The added moisture increases the force of the strike, and the young man screamed again, his cries no longer as loud as initially, hoarse, even with a hint of sobbing.

The police station director knew he was about to break down.

...

A few minutes later, the police station director appeared outside the director's office, neatly dressed. He tugged hard at the hem of his uniform, ensuring it was impeccable, then adjusted his duty belt before knocking on the door.

After a voice inside said, "Come in," he carefully opened the door, wearing a conciliatory smile, first glancing at Lynch seated to one side, nodding in greeting, then focusing his gaze on Drag, the Provincial Governor, nearby.

"He confessed, Governor...," he paused, "Mr. Lynch."

At this moment, it's hard to associate him with the brutal demeanor from the interrogation room earlier, yet one must admit, he is indeed competent.

"Some time ago, someone contacted a couple of local youngsters, saying that...," the police station director glanced at Lynch, and though subtle, it was still quite noticeable.

The Provincial Governor Drag saw this action in the sky but said nothing, and the Director of the Police Station immediately understood the Governor's meaning. He didn't shy away and continued, "They said it's not foreigners or plunder from them that Nagariel needs. To become strong, they can only rely on Nagariel people themselves. They've formed an organization called the 'Nagariel Youth Party' which only recruits young people."

There was no change on Drag's face, nor on Lynch's.

It's quite normal for social consciousness to trigger a defensive response when forcibly interfered by outside forces. The response of these people is slightly more intense and particular compared to other possibly milder methods.

"I'm not concerned about these things; I just want to know who is directing them," Drag just sat there, exerting immense pressure on the Police Director.

The latter nodded continuously, "Yes, yes, the young man said no one directs them; it's all their initiative."

"The Nagariel Youth Party above them provided some propaganda materials with slogans and teachings, and they decided temporarily to cause trouble at Mr. Lynch's recruitment meeting..."

The Police Director also found this event unusual; nothing like this had ever happened in this country before.

After its power was dissected and handed to every Provincial Governor and High Priest, not even mentioning political parties, there were no socially influential organizations in existence.

The sudden appearance of a Youth Party was indeed surprising to people.

"... They claim all of this is to awaken Nagariel entirely; all young people should stand together, or this place will become a paradise for foreigners."

There were other things the Police Director didn't voice because they were not entirely suitable to mention here.

The young man's or the Nagariel Youth Party's ideas can't be said to be entirely wrong.

Pretton Trading Company's control over the entire social economy has already pushed this society to the brink of losing control. If power was held by a small group within society, with others somehow having some wealth to meet their living needs, life could still continue.

But now it doesn't work; money is in the hands of foreign merchants and domestic rulers, who have reaped all the natural dividends of society, leaving nothing for ordinary people.

In fact, as long as one goes deeply into some remote places, one can feel this society's despair, the slums outside the city filled with impoverished people waiting to die, the pity people with nowhere to go on the streets.

All of these point to the need for some changes, whether in the ruling class or the entire social structure.

The emergence of the Youth Party is an awakening, an awakening from the bottom of society, grown in the new era, young people full of anger — it's the awakening of these people.

Their targets of criticism are only two types: those with power, such as the Governor, and those with wealth, such as Mr. Lynch.

So the Police Director wouldn't say these words, as saying them would only invite trouble.

After the Police Director finished saying what he had to, he kept his head down and said no more.

Provincial Governor Drag glanced at Lynch, seemingly inquiring about his thoughts.

Lynch just frowned slightly, "Since no one is directing them, let it be for now. But I think it's best to stamp out this tendency; they're just a group of potential aspiring minds with some ulterior motives."

"Very well, keep a close watch on these people," Drag said as he stood up and left the Police Station with Lynch.

While sitting in the car, Provincial Governor Drag, as if talking to himself or asking Lynch, said softly, "Such things have never happened before..."

He referred to the phenomenon of people banding together, as power and religion used to keep people well-controlled, making them believe in religious doctrines; even when unfairly treated, they wouldn't stand out.

Now, with the sudden appearance of the Nagariel Youth Party, Drag felt caught off guard, as if everything was gradually losing control.

Lynch, sitting beside him, looked at the people driven to the roadside by the police, observing their complex expressions, and shook his head slightly.

"Have you ever played with sandcastles, Mr. Drag?"

Mr. Drag is Lynch's new term for Provincial Governor Drag. On one hand, they are "partners," as several Provincial Governors in Nagariel have joined the United Development Company, and some are in the process of joining.

Additionally, he's a citizen of the Federation and Lynch's personal partner, so Lynch uses "Mr." as a more civilized form of address.

Provincial Governor Drag nodded, "If you mean the kind of sandcastle on the beach, yes, I've played. Why do you ask?"

Building sandcastles on the beach is one of the favorite games for many people living by the sea during their childhood. The wet sand has amazing plasticity, and many enjoy making something out of it, though often it ends up being nothing.

"I played it too, and for a while, I was quite obsessed...," he said with a smile, as if marveling at the simple joy of childhood. "I always made them poorly, not as beautifully as some adults did."

"I thought when I grew up, I could build a beautiful sandcastle like them, but when I finally did grow up, I found out, I still couldn't do it."

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