Chapter 166 The Ministry of Information Is in Action

"Little ones, your king is here!"

Fingel pushed open the door to the press department.

The pungent tomato salad and the strange smell of other sauces came to him, making him stagger and almost fall.

He covered his mouth and nose in embarrassment and turned pale with shock.

"Are those perverts from the Equipment Department finally taking over Kassel?"

"What are they doing, researching some kind of chemical weapon against humanity!"

Fingel cautiously peeked inside.

I saw a ruins comparable to the Stalingrad battlefield during World War II. At that time, the Germans and Mauro fought desperately for every alley and every window. Blood soaked more than 300 square bricks in the long street. At this moment, Fen Geer's dear subordinates had a carnival in their news department. The floor was full of empty Coke cups, French fries strips and chicken bones. You couldn't find even a clean corner, and you didn't even know which one was full of artistic cells. The genius painted a beautiful panel with ketchup on the wall. The Statue of Liberty is holding a pizza in her arms and holding a cone in the air, her solemn face is sacred and inviolable.

Ah ha, what a perfect piece, isn't it?

Fingel couldn't believe his eyes.

He walked through the mountains of corpses and seas of blood with grief.

The carcass of roasted chicken, the sea of ​​tomatoes.

It had reached a point where even Fingal found it unbearably sloppy.

The appalling extent of this can be imagined.

Unidentified human-shaped objects were lying on the ground. Fingel kicked them with his toes in disgust, turned the corpses over and looked at their faces.

"Victor! Victor!"

While searching, he called his deputy minister.

"Who called me?"

A man with a pizza box on his head raised his hand.

Fingel glared, rushed over to pick up this guy's collar, looked directly into Victor's sleepy eyes, and roared loudly.

"Look what you've done!"

"Here comes the principal!"

"You actually! You actually!"

Fingel gritted his teeth.

"You didn't even call me to the party!"

ten minutes later.

Fingel held a Coke in one hand and French fries in the other. His two long legs were placed boldly on the table. There were three monitors placed side by side in front of him, scrolling and playing all the information from the Night Watch Forum in real time.

"Not bad."

He took a sip of the coke with satisfaction and praised it repeatedly.

"Did you take any big orders while I was away?"

"Have any artistic photos of any international superstars been leaked?"

"Aha, I have to say, their imagination is really amazing, those postures, hehe."

The lackeys of the Ministry of Information and their boss burst into strange laughter.

As a coal laundering team, that is, a professional team that cleans up black history, as long as the employer's money is in place, there is no scandal that the talents led by Fingel cannot cover up.

To what extent had their reputation spread, a mere Kassel could no longer satisfy the needs of the Ministry of Information, so Fingel set his sights on the world of ordinary people. Although the supreme Abraham blood contract stipulates that mixed races The boundary with ordinary people is determined by the iron rule that hybrids must hide themselves at all times.

But they didn’t use the spirit of speech. Is there anything wrong with great journalists using their brilliant minds and keen sense of smell to make some extra money?

A brief list of Fingal's team's clients will give you a basic idea of ​​the news department's image.

A certain UAE crown prince.

An internationally renowned superstar.

Founder of a Fortune 500 company.

Even, the Pentagon.

As for what the Pentagon asked the Department of Information to do, that was a commercial secret. Even if Fingel was killed, he wouldn't tell it.

Unless you give money.

Yes, money.

Money is the religion of the Department of Public Information.

Money is what drives them.

From Fingel down, both the cadres and ordinary members of the Information Department all adhere to a simple and simple desire.

That's making money.

Because of this, when Fingel discovered that his dear members had taken the initiative to complete a big order without his participation, and the profits were so rich that they had extravagant carnivals for several days, one can imagine Fingel's reaction. How happy and touched I feel inside.

It was as happy as an old father seeing his child hand over his salary.

Finally, the child has grown up.

You don’t have to do it yourself, you don’t have to worry about it yourself, you don’t even have to ask yourself.

His dear and mature members have learned to take orders by themselves, complete them by themselves, and collect payment by themselves.

Although they had a party without his consent and spent money on cola chips and fried chicken, considering that they made money and these delicious foods did not cost much, the generous Lord Fingal was ready to forgive him. Those naive members.

"Big order?"

Deputy Minister Victor said strangely as he sprinkled cumin on the fried chicken.

"Where did the big order come from?"

Fingel frowned, vaguely having a bad feeling.

"Then where did you spend the money to buy Coke..."

"Oh this."

Victor touched his body and left a series of bloody palm prints. The man soon discovered this. Looking at the messy clothes, he frowned in distress. He shook his head and put his fingers in his mouth, sucking off the remnants. tomato sauce.

"Yes, here!"

His eyes lit up, and he picked up a black card from the trash heap with fingers that he didn't know whether to describe as clean or disgusting.

"Citibank's Centurion Card, with a limit of 10 million US dollars.,"

"Boss!"

Fingel knelt down in a standard way and hugged Victor's thigh. He looked up with tears in his eyes and looked at Heika with an almost pious look.

"As expected of you, Minister!"

Victor exclaimed.

Speaking of which, a few days ago, when Caesar took out this card at the Student Union's Freedom Day War Meeting, Victor had the urge to kneel down. It wasn't that he couldn't walk after seeing 10 million, but mainly because When I got tired of standing, I wanted to experience what it felt like to kneel down and hug Caesar’s thigh.

But Victor still failed to cross the threshold in his heart, and at the last moment he resisted from slipping to his knees.

Fingel is different.

This guy did the standard sliding kneeling without saying a word, and it was a feast for the eyes. The onlookers were all in awe, as if they saw this man practicing alone in the dark, with the sweat and swollen knees. Listen, The sound of the minister sliding on the ground was the crunching sound of crushed dough.

Well, all in all, it’s awesome.

"Boss, look at you, who is a minister but not a minister? You have so many points."

Fingel hugged Victor's thigh tightly and stared at the black card greedily. If it weren't for four hybrids with golden eyes holding him down, this guy would have jumped up and started to grab it.

"Just call me Xiaofen. That's right, boss."

The Minister of Information said this to the Deputy Minister.

"Although I really want to continue hearing you call me boss twice, Minister."

Victor shrugged.

"But, I'm sorry, we can only use 100,000 of the 10 million quota, and the remaining ones need the signature and authorization of Gattuso's clan leader." 'Fingel' blinked, and then his smile remained bright.

"One hundred thousand is one hundred thousand, I don't mind it, give it to me, boss!"

"Well, Minister, I think I need to remind you."

Victor cleared his throat.

"The debt you owe us over the past few years is more than 100,000."

Fingel's face changed.

A chill ran down my back, and the hairs on my back stood up.

He felt murderous intent, right in this room, from his dear subordinate.

"Hahaha, isn't it just a little bit of debt!"

Fingel didn't care and didn't give up.

"Give me your card first, and we will discuss the debt issue in the long run! We will discuss it in the long run!"

He gritted his teeth and tried to reach the black card.

But it failed.

There were eight mixed-breeds holding him tightly.

It didn't help that Fingel was holding back his face.

"If that's what you want, Minister."

Under Fingel's ecstatic and disbelieving gaze, Victor gently stuffed the card into his jacket pocket.

Also took a few shots.

"Boss, you...you actually..."

Fingel almost choked.

"It's okay, Minister."

Victor said gently.

"Anyway, we have used all the money we can use. Don't worry, there won't be a cent left."

"Since you want a frozen card so much, just take it as a souvenir."

Victor's smile was as kind as a grandfather giving a naughty child a glass bead to play with.

Fingel suddenly stopped moving.

All the strength in his body was taken away from him in an instant.

One pair of eyes also lost its light.

"One hundred thousand...my one hundred thousand..."

Muttering such words, he closed his eyes peacefully.

Twenty minutes later, the news department was cleaned and looked brand new.

It's still like a battlefield here.

It's not ruins, but a battlefield full of smoke and bullets.

The mixed-race's exaggerated physical fitness makes a crisp sound when hitting the keyboard, like an impassioned march, or a machine gun madly spitting out its tongue of fire.

Of course, in a sense, this description is not wrong. After all, there is a type of firearm with the nickname "Chicago Typewriter".

"Move! Move! Boys, move!"

Fingel gave orders like a general.

He stepped on the table, clapped his hands rhythmically, and looked at his subordinates with piercing eyes.

“For the lovely dollar bills!”

"And for that damn debt!"

"go! go! go!"

He waved his arms vigorously.

His muscular biceps almost burst his uniform.

"Information found!"

"Any information that will bring us dollars!"

"Whether it's the principal's green first love!"

"It was the vice principal's heroic deeds eight times in one night!"

"Use your little brains, and even, aha, why can't the principal and the vice principal have an exciting and beautiful encounter!"

Fingal almost opened a bottle of champagne for his genius.

"Let me think, let me think."

“It was sure to be an unforgettable night!”

"One is a legendary dragon slayer with a strong physique, and the other is a master alchemist with extraordinary wisdom. When they met in the bar, their eyes reflected each other..."

"You seem to have written this before, Minister!"

Someone reminds me.

"And there's more than one article. Have you forgotten? The vice-principal specially asked you to go to the equipment department for this purpose. When you came back, you swore that you would never write about them in the future."

"Is there still this matter?"

Fingel rubbed his chin in thought.

"Forget it, it's not important."

He waved his hand.

"Tell me, tell me, do you have any other ideas?"

The paparazzi in the news department frowned in thought.

"How about S-class?"

“All the active threads on the Night Watch are talking about him.”

"You know, guys, as long as you find a little bit of information about S-class, or make it up, someone will definitely pay for it."

The members were eager to try.

"I have a piece of advice regarding S-class."

Fingel looked solemn.

He seemed to be back to last night.

Originally, I was going to meet my lover whom I hadn't seen for a long time.

By the way, please do me a favor and use her ability to confirm whether the S-class files of the past eighteen years are authentic.

But as soon as I got out of bed, the door didn't open.

It was discovered.

I have to say that he was really startled when the S-class voice sounded in the darkness.

It felt really bad.

He once again tasted the bitterness called powerlessness.

Even if he tried his best, all the means would be useless in front of this young man.

What the hell am I doing!

Fingel thought so at the time.

That's S level.

He actually took a chance and tried to take action under the nose of S-class.

How stupid.

Fortunately, I don't know what the S-class's considerations were, but he didn't take action against Fingel. He just said to go back early and don't stay in the toilet for too long.

However, with this situation, Fingel still had no interest in sneaking to the ice cellar, walking around to the toilet, and then returned to bed and lay down in just three minutes.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Fingel gave advice when faced with the unscrupulous remarks made by his subordinates regarding S-class discussions.

"For life safety reasons, you'd better not overdo the S-class programming."

"That's not the case, Minister."

Some people feel strange.

"We have even written to the principal and vice principal, why are we still afraid of him being an S-level person?"

The members laughed triumphantly.

Fingel didn't laugh.

‘It seems you really don’t understand. ’

He sighed.

"Even though the principal and Lu Mingfei are both S-level, they are different."

"I know, how can Lu Mingfei compare with the principal!"

"No, not this."

Fingal said.

"The principal is the principal, Lu Mingfei is not."

"Do you know what this means?"

Everyone looked at each other.

Fingal didn't sell out.

"It means Lu Mingfei will really beat people up."

"And S-class fists really hurt."

The members put away their cynical smiles.

They thought about it and found that indeed, Fingel's words were correct.

The principal has the attributes of a teacher. He treats students like them, no matter how naughty they are, he is still more or less kind.

Lu Mingfei is different. They are all students. They don't have the burden of being a teacher. They won't stay behind when fighting.

As for the difficulty in fighting among classmates, Kassel's physical education class is there. They are just innocent and cute puppies, but no one is sure to stop the S-class. Don't talk about victory or not, pray for S When I beat someone, I realized that I should strike more lightly, so thank God.

"I remember today is the 3E exam."

Someone said so.

"Why don't we start a game?"

"Let's bet on how his S-level results will be today!"

He looked at Fingel excitedly.

Fingel sneered.

Oh my dear friend. ""

He spread his hands.

"Trust me, no one would bet on it."

"Going to bet on S-level 3E exam results?"

Fingel gasped.

"I bet this is the most ridiculous joke I've ever heard in my life!"

"Don't say you don't know what the 3E exam is."

"Determination of ancestry ratings in mixed breeds."

"Lu Mingfei, he is S-class."

"Gambling is the art of disorder. Who would be foolish enough to bet on something that is bound to happen?"

At this point, he paused.

"Of course, you can also try. If it's like what I said, no one will place a bet."

Fingel raised his finger solemnly.

"An elbow, how about I give you an elbow?"

The man blushed unwillingly.

"Okay, let's bet!"

"make a deal!"

Fingel rubbed his hands together excitedly, cheered, hummed a tune and jumped onto the computer chair. After turning around in a circle, he placed his hands accurately on the keyboard.

"Minister, are you so excited?"

Victor said curiously.

"Isn't it just an elbow? It's not like your style."

"That's just a lottery, just for fun, don't take it seriously."

Fingel clicked on the keyboard.

"Anyway, let's move, move, I have a doctrine."

"oh?"

Victor became interested.

"You mean..."

"gambling!"

"Ah ha, what could be more charming than gambling!"

"Want to bet on S rank?"

"Of course, he is the center of Kassel. If you don't bet on him, who else would you bet on, Caesar or Chu Zihang? Wake up, no one cares about losers."

"But you just said that with S's ability, opening the market is really not a wise choice."

"Of course, the pedigree of S-Class is undisputed. Everyone knows that he will definitely be able to pass the 3E exam, and he might even give us a surprising result."

"but!"

Fingel's confident look was like that of a general scolding Fang Qiu on the battlefield.

He smiled lightly.

"But, my dear Victor, please tell me, what will happen after the 3E exam?"

"Spiritual vision."

Victor blurted out.

All Kassel students know this.

The essence of the 3E exam is to stimulate the dragon's blood in the hybrid body. Regardless of whether it is awakened or not, the phenomenon of psychic vision will occur.

"And, and."

Fingel pressed enter hard.

He glanced at Victor.

"It's Yan Ling!"

Victor's eyes widened.

"You mean, we bet on S-class speech spirits!"

"Exactly."

Fingel spewed out words like a machine gun.

"Serial number 1~50, serial number 51~100, serial number 100 or above."

Victor's brows jumped as he looked at several options listed by Fingel in the post, especially the third one.

"More than 100?"

"How can it be!"

"Don't those kinds of words only exist in stories?"

"Please remember, Mr. Deputy Minister!"

Fingel raised his index finger and shook it.

"He is S-class."

"What happened to the Yanlings with serial numbers above 100?"

"anything else!"

I saw him typing on the keyboard and listing the fourth option.

"Mysterious spirits not recorded in the periodic table."

Victor shook his head and muttered something that was really crazy.

His expression suddenly changed and he looked at Fingel.

"I guess, Minister."

"Are you going to choose this one?"

"Word spirits outside the periodic table, if they are S-level, it might be possible."

"No!"

Fingel's answer is still no.

"I choose the fifth one!"

After a few taps, the last option appeared. The words were short, but it shocked Victor greatly.

I saw that it was displayed above.

"Speechless spirit."

In other words, as an S-class roommate and a person who lives with him day and night, Fingel believes that S-class will not awaken the word spirit after the 3E exam.

What a joke!

This is even more exaggerated than the S-class awakening serial number 100 or above.

When S-class awakened high-ranking spiritual beings, people would sigh at most and say that a genius is a genius, or a monster is a monster, which is still within the scope of understanding.

But a dignified S-level person doesn’t even have the spirit of speech.

This is even more outrageous than all Dragon Kings being insane!