Chapter 1587 - 1493: Blaze
Chapter 1587: Chapter 1493: Blaze
The gunshots were amplified tenfold inside the closed wooden house.
The woman’s corpse had its mouth wide open, as if saying, "Run!"
The atmosphere, already tense and oppressive to the extreme, immediately erupted like a barrel of gunpowder igniting.
Under the threat of death, people went mad, surging toward the doors and windows of the café, and trampling over anyone in their way without regard.
The screams and cries for help drowned out the sound of bones breaking, and the café instantly turned into a living purgatory.
In the extreme chaos, even the secret police were knocked to the ground.
Fearing being trampled themselves, they shot at those rushing towards them in panic.
The crowd ran even faster.
Finally, a few lucky ones squeezed out of the café door, only to despairingly find that there were already twenty to thirty secret police guarding outside.
Terrified out of their wits, they lost all reason, driven by nothing but the thought of escape.
The surrounding secret police raised their guns and shouted loudly:
"Kneel on the ground!"
"Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!"
But those "rioters" rushed towards them even faster.
The lead secret police officer was ordered "not to let a single one escape," and having heard a few more gunshots earlier, he felt no hesitation, immediately giving the order:
"Aim, shoot!"
In the darkness, flashes of gunfire flickered, and the front five or six people fell to the ground.
The secret police, illuminated by lanterns, began to reload...
Adorno stumbled into his home, slammed the door shut with his back hand, locked it, and collapsed to the ground, gulping down the musty air.
Yes, he had escaped alive, though his face had some scratches and his clothes were torn, he was almost uninjured.
Yet his whole body trembled uncontrollably, his mind constantly replaying the bloody scenes, and the soft things he stepped on while escaping. It was an arm, and its owner was unrecognizable.
He sat in a daze on the floor until dawn, when the sound of crying reached the streets.
The cries spread like a plague, and soon, the entire slum was weeping.
Not far away, a woman shouted in a hoarse voice: "My son was only sixteen, he just wanted to hear how to get enough food..."
And a deep curse: "These devils, executioners!"
"What did they do wrong..."
At that moment, a powerful shout rose above everyone, "This is a crime, a massacre!"
Adorno propped up his numb legs and stood up, peering through the crack in the door to see a group of people coming from the street corner.
Leading them were a few well-dressed gentlemen, clearly not from the slum.
A young gentleman waved vigorously at the buildings lining the streets: "Eighty-two people! Last night, the secret police killed eighty-two people at the café on Mud Street!
"They were just discussing fairness and freedom, but those guys wouldn’t let them even speak!"
It was then that Adorno learned that eighty-two people had been killed in the café the previous night.
In reality, the secret police only shot more than twenty people—their marksmanship wasn’t that good—the rest of the dead were killed by the stampede.
But no one would distinguish so clearly; the blame was all put on the secret police.
The young man leading the protests continued to shout, "We must unite and demand justice for them, or the bullets will soon be aimed at us!"
Adorno heard the bell and knew he had to sell bread immediately and then rush to the workshop to ensure he wouldn’t be late.
"Do you really not have it!" he furiously cursed himself.
The thoughts of freedom, equality, and rights that had surged in his heart last night were now no match for the desire for wages.
He slapped his legs hard and was about to open the door when he saw Gretel walking over, whispering: "Dad, Mom still won’t eat."
Adorno had asked the little one to change Karen’s forehead towel daily and take care of her meals.
He paused for a moment, turned to the bedside, and gently shook his wife: "Karen..."
His voice stopped abruptly because he felt Karen’s arm was as cold as a stone. And she had been running a fever.
Trembling, he placed his fingers under the woman’s nose, only to recoil suddenly as if bitten by a snake.
She was no longer breathing.
Adorno’s mind went blank. He wanted to cry, but not a single tear would fall; his body just kept trembling.
"This is also to reclaim our rightful rights!" The shouts outside resounded once more.
Adorno suddenly stood up, shoved the black bread on the table into little Gretel’s hands—the dinner Karen hadn’t eaten—ordering him to go to Mrs. Brandt’s upstairs for the day.
Then he grabbed a wooden stick and strode out the door, following the protest march with a cold look in his eyes.
As they passed the grimy streets, doors opened one after another.
Siegfried, clad in old military uniform, was the first to emerge.
Next came the one-eyed Favre, holding an iron shoemaker’s anvil.
From shanties, basements, and attics, people emerged from dark corners, silently joining the protest.
When they reached the next street, the crowd had already grown to over two hundred.
What Adorno didn’t know was that all over Vienna, there were at least a dozen similar protest groups like theirs.
Two hours later, Adorno and their group united with two other groups, and under the gentlemen’s leadership, shouted slogans and surged towards Schonbrunn Palace.
In front of Mei Quan Palace Square, Count Salazar, the Court Supervisor, frowned at the dense crowd and said to the Commander of the Guard Infantry Regiment, "Clearly, these people are violating the prohibition against gatherings. Disperse them immediately!"
The officer glanced at him, "What do you want me to do? I only have 1,000 soldiers, and there are at least nearly ten thousand people gathered here."
"Then open fire!"
"That requires His Majesty the Emperor’s authorization."
Count Salazar nodded and turned back to the Imperial Palace.
At the window on the second floor of Schonbrunn Palace, Franz II watched the growing crowd of protesters with a sullen face. The cries of "Punish the culprits," "Convene Congress," and "Abolish the Secret Police" buzzed in his ears.
"If it weren’t for Count Pergen’s foolish subordinates shooting in public, we wouldn’t be facing this trouble."
Annoyed, he gestured for a servant to draw the curtains and said to Salazar, "Go appease them, no shooting."
He knew very well that if the protestors weren’t intimidated into retreat, the thousand or so Court Guard soldiers might be overwhelmed by the over ten thousand protestors.
He then nodded to Kobutsel, who had just arrived, "You finally arrived. Mobilize the Moravian Legion to enter Vienna immediately."