Chapter 1236: The Peculiar Dictator! (2)

Chapter 1236: Chapter 397: The Peculiar Dictator! (2)

Ian tightly gripped the steering wheel, his face pale: “Merlin, this is harder than dealing with the Black Demon King!”

Since in both his past life and this one he had never encountered similar vehicles, Ian could at most tinker with the orphanage director’s small car.

This performance monster is even more thrilling than a flying broom.

Fortunately, his reaction ability was extraordinary.

After the initial bumps, the car gradually stabilized and continued to drive down the road. Ian let out a long breath and wiped the cold sweat off his forehead.

“Left! Left!… No, it’s right! Damn it!”

While maneuvering, he used magic to construct a “dynamic balance field” in his subconscious, secretly stabilizing the car, otherwise this several-ton iron box would have flipped into the ditch by now.

Yes, Ian also used a bit of magical trickery to assist in driving.

The next ten minutes were the most thrilling “driving” experience of his life. He was like controlling an unruly giant beast, relying entirely on magic to correct direction, cushion bumps, and predict obstacles. The car drifted in the curves, jumped over potholes, and almost hit a wild boar crossing the road once. Every dangerous moment incited a barrage of curses.

“This damn car doesn’t even have ESP! The aerodynamics are awful! Has this world’s technology tree gone crooked?!” He cursed while using magic perception to sense the surrounding environment.

Preemptively avoiding danger.

Less than a minute after he left, three police cars whizzed into the village. The newly arrived officers stared in shock at their unconscious colleagues and villagers on the ground, as well as the missing police car.

“All units, be advised! The suspect has stolen a police car and is heading east!” came an urgent German report over the radio.

Of course, Ian couldn’t understand the radio’s wanted alert, but he could guess the content. While striving to keep the vehicle smoothly driving, he was pondering his next move.

After half an hour of bumper car-like driving, the speed increased, and at the end of the dirt road appeared an asphalt highway. Ian glimpsed a road sign—it displayed the name of a city in German.

Another period of driving ensued.

Finally, the silhouette of the city appeared on the horizon.

It was a mid-sized city.

The architectural style was peculiar—a mix of traditional German buildings and austere modern structures, towering spires, gigantic circular buildings, dense clusters of chimneys, and ubiquitous Nazi eagle emblems and swastika flags, which looked particularly oppressive under the gloomy sky.

On the outskirts of the city, a towering concrete wall surrounded it, filled with floodlights and patrol towers, resembling a prison. Ian knew he couldn’t drive this stolen car inside.

He stopped beside an abandoned gas station in the suburbs. The car’s front was dented, tires worn, and the hood splattered with forest mud. He quickly got out, melted the car keys with magic, and tossed them into an oily puddle. Ian meticulously erased all traces he left behind: fingerprints, hair, even magical residues.

Then he cast several Confundus Charms, ensuring that even if someone found the car, they couldn’t obtain any useful information from it.

“Goodbye, my first ‘driving’ experience.” He patted the car body and turned towards the city entrance. It was evident he was quite skilled at such criminal tactics as destroying a stolen vehicle. Although he couldn’t drive, he had watched enough crime movies to know that stolen cars would likely have tracking devices installed.

“Now, I need a change of appearance.”

Ian took out his magic wand and performed the Human Body Transformation Technique on himself.

His bones emitted slight sounds, his height increased slightly, shoulders widened, wrinkles and stubble appeared on his face, his hair color turned gray, and his physique appeared slightly hunched.

A few seconds later, the mirror reflected an ordinary middle-aged man of about fifty, dressed in modest gray work clothes, carrying an old leather suitcase—perfectly blending into the world’s lower populace.

After confirming the transformation was flawless, Ian walked toward the city on foot. Near the city entrance, he saw a daunting checkpoint.

A reinforced concrete post blocked the road, armed soldiers meticulously checked the documents of everyone entering the city. A huge slogan sign read “Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer.” Beside the slogan was an electronic display screen, scrolling with “Reporting suspicious activity is every citizen’s duty.”

It was evident.

Very oppressive.

The ideology of imperialism was displayed thoroughly.

“What a damned world.” Ian bowed his head, blending into the queue.

He realized that the expressionless crowd avoided eye contact with the soldiers. When they showed their documents, their arms made an involuntary salute-like motion.

“Documents.” When it was Ian’s turn, an expressionless soldier mechanically said.

Ian handed over a magically forged “Civilian ID Card”—he copied the format and anti-counterfeiting features from the knowledge he had retrieved from a policeman’s memory earlier.

The policeman scanned it with a device and the screen lit green.

“Profession?”

“Mechanical repairman.” Ian replied fluently in German.

“Destination?”

The officer continued to ask.

“Seventh Industrial Zone, Hans Factory.”

Ian responded smoothly.

The policeman stared at him for two seconds then waved for him to pass.

Upon entering the city, Ian immediately sensed a bizarre “order.”

The streets were broad and clean, the roads spotless.

The buildings were mostly gray-white concrete structures, square, stern, devoid of aesthetic appeal. Every building had an eagle emblem perched atop, with “Leader Quotes” sticker slogans plastered on windows.

Citizens dressed uniformly in uniforms or work clothes walked briskly, eyes forward. There was no laughter, no noise, even conversations were rare—likely for the simple reason that every fifty meters a gun-armed policeman stood patrol, their gaze scanning the crowd like raptors. They were not protecting people.

Rather, like a form of control, supervision.

“Surface efficiency and cleanliness masked pervasive fear.”

Ian thought to himself.

The place looked like an ordinary European city: people shopping, trams clanged along, customers chatted outside cafes.

But details revealed the essence of this society: speakers hung on every street corner, occasionally broadcasting announcements and music; uniformed armed members marched in orderly lines through the streets.

The bookstore windows displayed “Mein Kampf” and various propaganda books; the cinema exterior plastered with the latest propaganda film poster titled “Eternal Victory.”

More noticeably to Ian, almost every public venue exhibited a “Racial Purity Certificate,” proving all employees were purebred Germanic People.

Imperial ideology’s psychological stamp was everywhere.

“What an error! Absurd direction of development! Oh heavens!” Coming from a normal world, Ian certainly wouldn’t accept such a regime akin to herding humanity.

Of course.

He didn’t show it for now, just internally grumbled a bit.

“How do I fix my time machine?” Ian walked into what appeared to be a normal restaurant, aiming to gather more information. Beside the menu on the wall hung a “Recommended Nutritional Allocation.”

It was an absurd menu.

It actually divided dietary standards based on race and profession. When the waiter approached, they first praised the Führer, then asked Ian what he needed.

Ian casually ordered some food, pretending to read the newspaper on the table.

The conversation at the neighboring table caught Ian’s attention.

Two middle-aged men were talking in whispers, so softly they were almost inaudible.

When they realized he was listening, they immediately changed subjects, loudly praising how outstanding the latest model of the national car was.

Ian sat in the corner of the restaurant, absent-mindedly eating the bland stew on his plate.

The food tasted mechanical and uniform, as if mass-produced by some standard formula. The television screen hanging on the restaurant wall suddenly interrupted its regular program, followed by a burst of rousing music, displaying a familiar face with a little mustache—the Führer was giving a live speech.

Everyone in the restaurant paused, turning to the screen, expressions solemn.

“We proudly announce to all citizens and the world: wizard remnants have been completely eradicated! These pests lurking in shadows, attempting to poison the world with evil magic, have been permanently wiped from Earth! A pure, safe, new era has arrived!”

On the TV, the Führer’s voice echoed clear and penetrating through every corner of the restaurant via speakers, followed by sparse but timely applause.

“Hmm?”

Only Ian’s fork was suspended in mid-air.

The fate of wizards being declared so publicly made his stomach churn. Yet immediately, an even more astonishing detail gripped him—he stared intently at the screen’s face.

This face… was too young.