Mutual Exposure

*Clang! Clang! Clang!* Chains coiled around the redeemees like venomous vipers, making everyone’s expressions turn dreadfully grim. Financier's words had spread the public's hatred equally among them all. Now, everyone understood Yaxiu’s intent completely—that damned escaped convict wanted them to expose each other's dirty administrative secrets, laying bare their "petty whims of power" right before the eyes of the entire city. He was even pushing them to drag unmentionable entities down into the mud with them! Why hadn’t the Sin Hunting Hall arrived yet?! Why hadn't the broadcast station cut the live feed?! What in the world were the Church and the research institute thinking?! Glancing at one another, they reached an unspoken consensus—say no more. Speaking further would only stoke the citizens' fury. They would stall for time in silence until the Sin Hunting Hall arrived to interrupt the broadcast! Yet not everyone was willing to abide by such an understanding. For instance, the former leader of the Gluttonous Snake syndicate, the orc Kuiwen, was already nearing his limit. Compared to councilors and operators whose wickedness felt distant and abstract, Kuiwen was undeniably the most tangible, grounded manifestation of violent evil that ordinary citizens encountered in daily life. Without outside interference, Kuiwen would undoubtedly be the top candidate in this Blood Moon Trial. And the greatest virtue of a scoundrel was that he would never miss a chance to drag someone else down into the grave with him. "Financier had a big hand in the Dragon Cave Apartments case three years ago, too!" the orc yelled at the top of his lungs. "Nobody has forgotten, right? Dragon Cave Apartments bought up properties from landlords at high prices and leased them to tenants for cheap, expanding at breakneck speed. Not just here in Kaimeng City, but even the rental markets in Feimeng and the Outer Sea were aggressively overrun by them! "Yet Dragon Cave Apartments paid rent to landlords month by month, while demanding one to two years of upfront rent from tenants to absorb immense capital. Everyone knew it was a ticking time bomb, but everyone looked the other way, even fanning the flames! Back then, Financier pushed the Administrative Hall to issue the *Guiding Opinions on Financial Innovation*, allowing commercial banks to operate new businesses like rental loans, saddling renters with debt just to patch up Dragon Cave Apartments' cash flow! On this matter, Financier bears unshirkable responsibility, even if he committed no technical crime on paper! "Why am I so clear on this? Because I owned a commercial bank myself! I seized that chance to issue a flood of small loans to prime targets like students and new workers! "And as far as I know, a certain member of the Gallery in the Woods operates a commercial bank as well!" Hearing the scraping rattle of shifting chains, the ogre let out a heavy breath. Financier knew that everything was proceeding just as the indifferent watcher nearby had planned. What was more pathetic was that he had no choice but to accelerate the process himself, until the populace's burning fury consumed them all. "Andere," Financier spoke up. "Thanks to your efforts, moon sugar was legalized in Kaimeng City back in 1662. Sugar manufacturers transitioned from the underground into legitimate enterprises, and the largest among them, Immortality, founded the Wine of Immortality Club the following year. Though you’ve been locked up here, Immortality is still producing moon sugar this very second. With every passing moment, countless people fall into hallucinations because of it." With just a few words, Andere's stone pillar flared into turmoil as countless shackles lunged toward the middle-aged scholar like tentacles. Andere's expression darkened, knowing he had provoked public outrage. As an addictive drug, moon sugar was contraband in most corners of the Blood Moon Country, legalized only in a handful of cities like Kaimeng. While there were many "sugar folk" who loved taking it, there were far more people who detested moon sugar. Almost every citizen had suffered harassment from sugar folk on the streets, in restrooms, in university lecture halls, or inside cinemas. The sharp surge in violent crime fueled by sugar folk only deepened the public's utter revulsion. Andere did not believe he was in the wrong. Under the Human Rights and Freedom Act, no one had the authority to stop an adult of any race from consuming moon sugar; the crimes spawned from taking it were an entirely separate matter. Besides, violent crime fell under the jurisdiction of the Sin Hunting Hall—what did that have to do with the council? Everyone had different performance evaluations, and Andere and his faction had no reason to concern themselves with the crime wave spurred by legalizing moon sugar. Precisely because everyone held the right to consume it, moon sugar could never be eradicated through bans. Since it was impossible to outlaw, turning it into a formal industry made far more sense. At least they could collect taxes, and without violent gangs taking cuts, the sugar folk could buy their supply at lower prices. A world where no one got hurt was born—except for ordinary citizens. What if they strictly banned moon sugar and arrested users? The Human Rights Association would have plenty to say, and the Racial Rights Protection Association would never stand idly by either. After all, goblins, orcs, and ogres naturally possessed strong drug and poison resistances. For them, consuming moon sugar brought more benefits than harm, with practically no withdrawal symptoms; regular consumption even boosted their focus and work efficiency. Ogres in particular treated moon sugar as an essential item for oil painting, arguably more vital than pigment itself. The bill legalizing moon sugar had passed not merely out of Andere's personal interests, but because the council had reached a consensus based on Kaimeng City's local realities, ensuring every faction profited. Ordinary citizens had no right to complain, either, since they were the ones who had elected the councilors. That was elite politics. Yet the public's resentment toward the moon sugar legislation only festered day by day. Under normal circumstances, resentment was just resentment—could raw emotion grow teeth and bite someone? But in the Blood Moon Trial, resentment truly did bite. "As expected of you, Financier," Andere said. "Now the public is venting their anger onto me." "Andere, your grasp of language is truly abysmal. Venting anger implies taking it out on innocent bystanders, whereas you were the primary councilor who proposed legalizing moon sugar. That isn't venting; that is vengeance," the ogre sneered. Andere let out a weary sigh. "Must it come to this?" Financier said indifferently, "If you are willing to sacrifice yourself to protect everyone else, then this game will conclude with you." Andere looked around, catching the hopeful gazes of his subordinates. He turned his eyes toward Yaxiu, who stood at the edge of the rooftop watching the spectacle, and deep sorrow welled in his eyes. "A gathering of self-proclaimed geniuses and elites, toyed with in the palm of a mere death-row convict..." Andere gave a bitter laugh. "What an ugly sight. "Allow me to put an end to all this." The ogre looked slightly startled. The others sighed in collective relief, their faces blooming with the joy of surviving a catastrophe. "Arandall Financier!" At that exact instant, Andere roared at the top of his lungs. "If anyone here deserves to die the most, it can only be you! In the 422 Incident, you were the one who left the innocent citizens of Kaimeng City exposed to an attack by outland sorcerers!"