The world was changing too fast—so fast that no one could keep up.
The Thousand Islands was famous for its sluggish pace and glacial change, yet in a matter of mere weeks, events had plunged everyone into one dizzying shock after another.
The old Alliance Leader was dead, and hot on his heels, the head of the Chopra family had died as well. Having spent their lives locked in open and secret contention, they had ended up following each other into the grave as if dying for love. A truly boundless sea of sentiment and sorrow, leading outsiders who didn't know the truth to sigh that they were quite the tragic pair of star-crossed lovers.
The noxious wind had not even begun to blow, yet an invisible tempest already enshrouded the Seven Cities and seven islands.
Formed under the immense pressure of the Federation, the alliance now faced unprecedented turmoil. Weapons were honed, friction broke out ceaselessly, and every gaze fixated on the seat of Alliance Leader while quietly bracing for trouble... Like stumbling through a haunted house in the dead of night, no one knew when something massive would suddenly jump out.
And then, out of nowhere, something massive fucking happened!
It caught everyone totally blindsided, striking so fast that not a single soul could react in time.
Half an hour ago, everyone had just received the alert that the Seven Cities Joint Defense Fleet had gone rogue and deployed on its own. Half an hour later, they were watching an epic triumph by the Joint Defense Fleet on television.
Relying on nothing more than their pathetic scrapheap of gear, they had completely wiped out the Venom Fleet that had terrorized the East Sea, slaying pirates beyond count and claiming dazzling military exploits.
Right there on the live broadcast, before the reporters, Fleet Commander Minkler stood tall with his chest puffed out, recounting the endless atrocities and heinous crimes of the Venom Fleet. He displayed the harrowing condition of the rescued victims, sighing with clenched fists when he reached the most poignant details, lamenting that if only he had arrived earlier, everyone wouldn't have suffered such a catastrophe...
When speaking of the victory, Commander Minkler showed utter humility, claiming no credit whatsoever. Waving his hands repeatedly, he insisted that this was entirely thanks to the Seven Cities Council's farsighted vision and sound command, along with the fearless, self-sacrificing dedication of the officers and men—he himself had merely carried out a little bit of trivial groundwork.
It was just that as he waved his hands, he "accidentally" flashed the family head ring on his finger.
And during interviews with the troops, the entire fleet showered immense praise and reverence upon this newly appointed commander.
What mastery of tactics, razor-sharp instincts, astonishing decisiveness, an incomparable god of war; more than that, an admirable superior who cared for his men like his own children, a big brother they would follow unto death, a rear admiral whose boundless favors could never be repaid...
Their impassioned, glowing vigor stood in such stark contrast to their usual rotten, sluggish, half-dead torpor that anyone watching couldn't help questioning their own eyes and brains.
Countless related reports, news pieces, and updates came surging like a deluge, from headlines and columns on news websites to continuous algorithm pushes and recommendations on short-video platforms... like coats of gold leaf brushed onto a clay or wooden idol, elevating this once-ignored bottom-tier commander onto a brand-new pedestal of divinity.
Wild claims flew about—eight hundred crushing a hundred thousand, a rifle shooting down a satellite—leaving him just shy of punching the Federation with his fists and kicking the Empire to the curb.
For a time, let alone the clueless commoners, even those who knew exactly what kind of scoundrel Minkler usually was couldn't help casting glances toward the Seven Cities Council on Pu Island, unable to hide their bewilderment...
—*You bunch of insects, ask your own consciences: over all these years, haven't you held the boy back?*
Otherwise, how could a generational god of war only be commissioned in an hour of crisis to reveal his brilliance now? It had to be foul political suppression, the classic envy of talent, and ruthless factional infighting that kept a genius like Minkler from emerging until now!
Well-connected figures on short videos were already claiming: rumor had it that an admiral in the Empire's Seven Stars Building, upon hearing of this victory, couldn't help exclaiming in shock, "A soldier like Minkler is worth an entire Leviathan fleet on his own!"
In less than half a day, propelled by the media frenzy, this righteous act of eradicating bandits and saving the people spread throughout the East Sea until it was known to every household, drawing cheers and applause from everyone who heard of it.
It wasn't that no one suspected or sneered that the trash of the Seven Cities Joint Defense had once again slaughtered innocents to claim unearned glory. But when they saw Renut displayed on the live broadcast—hung from the ship's prow, drooling, weeping, and begging for death—they were struck utterly speechless.
The evidence was ironclad!
The Venom Fleet was completely annihilated.
From top to bottom, not even a dog had managed to escape!
Even the flagship Ivory, their pride and joy, was reduced to a half-wreck, towed behind the fleet on public display to deter brigands. A retired Imperial warship that had once cut an imposing figure now looked as if chewed on by dogs—a truly gruesome sight.
This grand victory, stacked on top of his earlier feat of outwitting the Blood Cleansers and capturing their ringleader, turned Minkler—a fellow previously known only for smoking, drinking, and perming his hair—into a dazzling rising star among commanders.
In contrast to the jubilant atmosphere throughout the Seven Cities, the eerie silence inside the Seven Cities Council in Pu City became all the more intriguing.
The news had arrived in the afternoon, and the meeting was convened that night. Representatives of the seven families sat around the same table with varying expressions.
"This was all Minkler acting on his own rogue initiative!"
The Chopra family representative's face was pale. Under the weight of countless meaningful stares, he protested repeatedly, "Our family head has just passed away, and our entire household is in utter chaos! Who could have guessed Minkler would quietly go mad like this? We were completely kept in the dark!"
"Why be so modest, elder Chopra?"
Xi Island's Encomienda praised with a beaming smile. "There's an old saying in the Federation: 'Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—never look down on a young man when he's down.' Silent until the moment he amazes the world! Promising youth, truly a promising youth!"
*You bastard...*
The facial muscles of Matik, clan elder of the Chopra family, twitched. He wished he could glare this old fossil to death on the spot. No matter how magnificent Minkler's feat of annihilating the Venom Fleet was, without someone fanning the flames behind the scenes, how could it have spread across all Seven Cities in just a few short hours?
In this, the Xi Island Group—the powerhouse in the media industry among the seven families—had played an indispensable role, sparing no expense to promote Minkler, as if terrified that anyone might miss his glorious achievements...
"Indeed, indeed."
The old woman from Ma City grinned, sighing dramatically. "After all these years, a brilliant general has finally emerged from our Seven Cities! This is the exact moment to throw our full support behind him. Matik, I don't mean to criticize, but family ought to support each other. How can you hold him back at a time like this?"
The others chimed in one after another, brimming with praise. "Quite right, quite right! Ridding the Seven Cities of such a scourge is truly a monumental service!"
"I think Rear Admiral Minkler's rank could be bumped up a notch. After all, we can't dampen the spirits of someone who has rendered such meritorious service!"
"Not just Minkler—the Chopra family deserves immense credit!"
As the compliments poured in without pause, Matik's face turned uglier and uglier. Especially when he caught the sinister, vicious gaze staring at him from across the table, he wished he could pull out a rope and hang himself right there in the conference room.
"Hey, what's the matter, elder Bomasang? Why aren't you speaking?" Encomienda, who had just stirred the pot, turned his gaze over. "On such a joyous occasion, why aren't you smiling?"
The representative of the Sukarno family, Bomasang, saw his expression twitch once, and then twitch again. Straining to squeeze out a stiff smile, he raised his hands, clapped, and forced words through gritted teeth: "Every generation brings forth talented souls. The Chopra family has found a worthy successor. Tell me, how did I never realize your family had so much spine?
"Since you've achieved such great merit, I'd say there's no need to keep up the act, is there?"
"Indeed, indeed."
The others nodded enthusiastically as though completely oblivious, their gazes darting back and forth between Bomasang and Matik while showering compliments.
*The Seven Cities are all one family—why be so distant?*
*Since young Minkler has shown such promise, we aunts and uncles will definitely help build up his momentum!*
*You Chopras mustn't let yourselves lose face!*
As for Matik's words...
What a joke. In this conference room, anyone who believed a single punctuation mark would have to be out of their mind.
The more sincere Matik looked, the more terrified his posture, the humbler his expression, the more it proved what an exquisite actor the bastard was!
And even now, he was still putting on a show—and playing it so convincingly!
How had nobody ever noticed he had such talent before? Brilliant! Truly impressive!
Seeing this old dog still putting on airs, even a representative like Bomasang, who had heard dogs bark all his life, was driven to laugh in fury, almost wanting to applaud.
*Fine, fine, fine. So this is how you Chopras want to play?*
*Well played! Wonderfully done!*
*Pretending to have an internal feud, only to have already chosen the family head's successor, jumping out to initiate the battle while everyone was off-guard, huh?!*
To the Chopra family members, Minkler had gone rogue. But to everyone else, this was plainly a desperate, do-or-die gamble by the Chopras with their backs against the wall!
Decisive, vicious, and ruthless.
At this crucial juncture when their family head had just passed away, in order to avoid being encircled and carved up as a sacrifice in the impending war, they had consolidated their internal factions at top speed and struck first on behalf of everyone, delivering a vicious blow straight at their greatest threat—the Sukarno family!
Once this dagger was plunged, there was no turning back.
An all-in gamble of sheer peril: triumph completely, or be utterly crushed.
Either they held the line until everyone else entered the fray and joined in devouring Luo City, or they were obliterated in a single counterblow by Luo City. It was safe to say the Chopra family had staked their very survival on the line.
If that kid Minkler had really thought this up on his own, then the old fox of the Chopras had truly been extraordinary, quietly raising such a ravenous tiger and vicious wolf.
And if not...
How could it not be?
Otherwise, what are you trying to tell me? That Minkler, a decorative figurehead commanding a scattered rabble in a Joint Defense Fleet treated by the Seven Cities like a chamber pot, an amateur outfit that chronically lacked even enough ammunition, could defeat the Sukarno family's prized Venom Fleet?
With what? His horoscope?!
He was already wearing the family head's signet on his hand. Who would believe there was no Chopra backing behind this?
It couldn't possibly be that, in a bid to escape a purge by his siblings, a desperate dog leaped over the wall and worked a miracle, could it?
*Heh, good joke. Tell another one!*
Reality was cold and cruel. It had no room for conscience or morality, and it wasn't some prime-time drama. There were no bonds of friendship, no hot blood; relying solely on so-called determination and spine would only leave you a slightly more dignified corpse.
Miracles? There were no miracles!
Now that your Chopra family had pulled off such a stunt, did you expect to tell the Sukarnos that you were sorry, that the boy was immature and didn't mean it, and expect them to understand and pretend nothing happened?
Never mind whether the Sukarno family would agree—would the other families agree?
Once certain things were set in motion, they were no longer up to anyone to decide.
This meeting, where everyone talked past one another like chickens talking to ducks, ultimately failed to reach any agreement or consensus—a pure waste of time.
That they hadn't drawn blades on each other was already proof that the Seven Cities had grown somewhat civilized after decades of peaceful, prosperous living. Decades earlier, before the old Alliance Leader, they wouldn't have even bothered with surface courtesies; they would have fought straight to the death.
Regardless, everyone in attendance knew that, things having come to this, what was left to do except fight it out?
The only question was how they would fight, when they would fight, and to what extent...
Consequently, while Acting Speaker Fernan—attending in place of the late Alliance Leader—repeatedly stressed that the noxious wind was approaching and that the bigger picture must be prioritized, everyone simply treated his words as background music and white noise.
The old man spoke until his mouth was parched. Seeing everyone unmoved, he couldn't help letting out an exhausted sigh, waved his hand, and banged the gavel.
Meeting adjourned.
A meeting organized with immense effort had, in the end, resolved nothing at all.
As everyone walked downstairs, they could still hear the sound of Fernan smashing a cup in his office.
"Old Fernan doesn't have it easy," the representative from Xi City remarked downstairs with a pitying sigh. "He served the old Alliance Leader diligently all his life, patching things up between the Seven Cities. Now, near the end, he runs into something like this... yet not a single person cares about the bigger picture."
"The bigger picture?"
The old woman from Ma City sneered beside him. "Whose bigger picture? Pu City has held the alliance leadership for so many years that they probably think the Seven Cities belong to them. Do they still expect everyone to bow and scrape at a single order like before?
"When that old tyrant Aquilino was alive, he never cared about any 'bigger picture.' Why does it suddenly matter so much the moment he drops dead?"
The Xi City representative smiled and said nothing.
In silence, the two watched the taillights of the Sukarno family's vehicles speed away into the distance, then turned and exchanged a glance.
Life in the Seven Cities was about to get very lively.
In the Yamen Archipelago, at the Seven Cities Joint Defense Fleet garrison base, a festive atmosphere reigned supreme. Enriched by an ocean of spoils, every face flushed with excited color.
And amidst this revelry, Minkler, the chief culprit behind it all, finally received a visit from his own family members.
Coming to demand an accounting.
Chapter 698