Here, Jiao Ao was surprised to discover that the United States from over two hundred years ago looked like this.

There were more horse-drawn carriages than cars on the streets, no prosthetics, everyone was gnawing on bread, many wore soft hats, and their relationships seemed much closer than the people in Night City.

However, the speech did not last long before it was surrounded by the police called in for questioning.

The conflict between the two sides was inherently sharp; one side shouting "mob," while the other accused them of being lapdogs of the capitalists, and the atmosphere escalated amid the shoving.

Until Jiao Ao saw a guy hiding in the crowd, who took a homemade bomb from his coat, lit the fuse, and threw it into the crowd.

With a boom

The scene was ignited.

The provoked police fired wildly, and one worker after another fell, moaning in pools of blood.

The crowd started to panic and flee, with more and more workers crying out in pain.

At this moment, Jiao Ao in the crowd felt regret for the first time, but more so, anger at his own powerlessness to change the situation.

This was unlike any Mewtwo he had used before.

There were no quick and instant thrills, only a heavy sense of historical oppression.

The final casualty tally came in, with over a hundred workers dead or wounded on the scene, but in fact, many more were afraid to go to the hospital for fear of being arrested, even if injured.

And the media blamed the bloodbath caused by this conflict on Jiao Ao and these unscrupulous anarchists, claiming their incitement and instigation led to worker deaths.

The newspapers branded Jiao Ao as a murderer, a hooligan, a beast, guiding the masses to overwhelmingly attack these strikers.

Damn, Jiao Ao wished nothing more than to blow up with this group of bastards.

At this moment, the company of 2076 and the company of 1886 seamlessly matched identities.

Soon, the court trial of this tragedy began.

The twelve jurors and the judge unanimously attacked Jiao Ao and other speakers and worker leaders in court, deeming the police side innocent, and Jiao Ao and others were arrested and jailed.

The charge: Aiding and abetting murder

But the bomber was not among them, and in fact, four of the eight were not even at the scene.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

This Mewtwo is not enjoyable at all!

Jiao Ao now wished nothing more than to extend the Mantis Blade and slice those stupid judges and cops into pieces, but in the Mewtwo, he could only watch helplessly as everything unfolded.

Soon, Jiao Ao was sent to the gallows.

Angry? He was undoubtedly angry.

But Jiao Ao's heart was exceptionally calm, seeing more and more people awake to the slanderous nature of this trial below the platform, he suddenly realized that death seemed acceptable after all.

With the noose slipped over Jiao Ao's head, a series of images began to flash before his eyes.

On the street not far from the gallows, workers were organizing another march and strike, and workers, peasants, students, even police were joining in.

Their numbers filled the streets, paralyzing traffic, raising flags high, shouting aloud

"Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, and eight hours for what we will."

Tens of thousands strong.

[In 1889, to commemorate this great Chicago march and the deceased, the Second International decided to designate May 1st as International Workers' Day]

[The following year, to celebrate this holiday, workers from European and American countries took to the streets in demonstrations and protests]

[In 1916, the United States passed the Adamson Act mandating an eight-hour workday for railroad workers]

[In 1917, the Soviet Union was established, instituting an eight-hour workday]

[In 1918, Germany enacted an eight-hour workday law]

[In 1919, France enshrined the eight-hour workday into law]…

Scene after scene of strikes and marches passed by, with them singing the same words, the same song, the same demand in different languages.

The workers' half-century struggle finally bore fruit. Though imperfect, it represented the power they held.

This scene left Jiao Ao surging with emotion, realizing his death wasn't worthless, that the grievances he endured now would become the driving force for those to come, and everything was meaningful.

The three standing with him, including Jiao Ao himself, suddenly began singing "La Marseillaise" loudly, facing death without a hint of fear.

It wasn't the falsehood of Mewtwo that made him unafraid, but his fearlessness in his endeavors.

The strength of that conviction thrilled the real Jiao Ao.

Right next to Jiao Ao, the man named Spieth shouted loudly

"One day, the silence of our deaths will be louder than the cries you stifle today!"

All previous oppression, along with the fear of death, vanished like smoke.

At this moment, Jiao Ao only regretted being tongue-tied, not knowing what to say, but Mewtwo's shackles lifted, and he was no longer in that role, but himself.

"Damn corporations! Someday I'll tear down your dens! Wait for me, I'll hang you one by one on lampposts!"

For some reason, those Horizon Mercenaries always liked saying things like this, so Jiao Ao learned a few words.

But it did feel satisfying to say.

As the trapdoor opened beneath him, Jiao Ao only felt the rope around his neck tighten, and with a snap, he lost consciousness.

Mewtwo's performance came to an end.

When he awoke again, it was nearly dusk.

Around him, people from Chaotic Blade Association who had come from Dragon Field were seated, all wearing Super Dream Headbands.

Even passersby were curious about what they were watching.

A Fujian person who had been watching nearby handed Jiao Ao a bottle of water from a box.

"So, do you still think what you're doing now is a hassle?"