Sheepdog and Sheepfold

Inside the research institute's bistro, Andere's roar still echoed. The patrons wore subtle expressions, gently swirling the drinks in their hands. Behind the bar counter, Boss Snake washed glasses as usual, seemingly unconcerned with the grievances airing on the Blood Moon Trial. "What an outrageous accusation," a human Blood Saint murmured faintly. "Never mind cursing those puppies in the Church who only know how to chase their own tails, but we at the research institute have always kept our heads down and focused on our work. We don't touch politics, nor do we interfere with public opinion... Among the technological products in society today, which one didn't come from the institute? From the machine tools that manufacture screws to the source compilers used to program Curtain applications, which of them wasn't developed through years or even decades of our researchers' hard work? "We've never harmed anyone. We've worked diligently to contribute to the development of the Blood Moon Country. Because our lifespans are more than three times those of ordinary races, our working hours and contributions are more than three times theirs as well... And now they dare lay the blame for the rulers' mistakes on us?! "Are they bullying us just because we keep to ourselves?!" "Exactly!" The others grew indignant as well, and someone cursed, "Right now, there are only two Blood Saint representatives in the council. That can't compare to the number of councilors from other races at all! Our voices are weak and carry no weight—we're practically decorative filler! That's why they think we're an easy target!" "It's time to increase the number of council seats for Blood Saints!" "Andere formed his own faction, jostled for power, and abused public office for private gain—how does he have the nerve to blame us?" "These politicians really can't tell right from wrong. Shameless to the extreme!" "Still, Financier's proposal for a combat league actually sounds pretty good." A slight pause fell over the bistro, and the red light in everyone's blood-red eyes shone brighter. "Indeed, that would be a fantastic spectator industry." "Best if it's no-holds-barred, permitting mechanical modifications, bio-implants, and similar augmentations. Otherwise, it'd be boring." "We could also have multi-man brawls in the same ring, fighting until only one victor remains." "And cross-species combat! Have the war zone capture some Abyss creatures and bring them over to see if ordinary people can kill them." "There has to be a sorcerer league too, right? Two Wings might be out of reach, but a fight to the death between two One-Wing Sorcerers shouldn't be an issue!" "Besides the prize money, the institute would surely provide free medical treatment for all contestants. As long as they don't die, we could guarantee full recovery on the spot, leaving them with no worries! If nothing else, I'd volunteer to serve as a league healer!" "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I think you just want to undergo a second Blood Embrace ritual! Look at how old you are—your bloodline potential ran dry long ago. Even if they really need league healers, priority will definitely go to new blood scions." Watching everyone enthusiastically discuss the details of the combat league, Lorence focused instead on the voting tallies of the Blood Moon Trial. He noticed that Financier's votes, which had been tied with Andere's a moment ago, were now skyrocketing far ahead of the pack. This made him frown. Deep down, the blue-scaled Blood Saint felt Andere's words held some truth, but only a tiny bit—most of it was twisted sophistry. Was it the institute's fault that the directors of the Dragon Cave Apartments came to them for life-extension procedures? Did the institute force Financier to mismanage the 422 Incident? And for this combat league that hadn't even happened yet, was the institute supposed to take responsibility for all the negative social consequences that industry might produce? On what grounds? Just because the Blood Saint clan enjoyed long lives and formidable strength, were they supposed to be morally held hostage by these lower races? Where was the logic in that?! Lorence tilted his head and asked, "Boss Snake, do you think Andere has a point?" "*Hiss...*" Boss Snake set down a glass and said unhurriedly, "Councilor Andere has a point. From his perspective, Financier was indeed pandering to the two Blood Moon clans." The blue-scaled Blood Saint was somewhat surprised. "Then—" "Yet you also have a point," Boss Snake continued. "To the two Blood Moon clans, Andere's accusations are purely displaced anger. You clearly did nothing, yet someone is pinning the blame on you." Lorence couldn't help laughing. "If we're in the right and he also has a point, then who's in the wrong?" "No one is in the wrong. The problem lies with..." Boss Snake looked toward the light screen. "Perhaps the mayor will give us an answer." ... "Ogre, male, general education degree, twenty-four years old. He has a habit of eating moon sugar before going to bed, frequently pulls all-nighters, and works in the oil painting business. His favorite food is pickled Lalafell. He masturbates twice a day. He currently harbors an unrequited crush on another female ogre and hopes to live together with her, but after trying to win her favor for over a year, he has made no progress. Even though he saw her walk into a hotel with someone else three months ago, it did not extinguish the flames of his love; instead, it made him believe he still had a chance..." At first, Andere listened with some confusion. But the more he heard, the more shocked he became. Before Financier could finish, he cut him off. "You actually... Wait, you clearly underwent memory reviews! How could you possibly still possess these memories?! Did you never erase them?!" The ogre smiled. "I don't trust memory masters. I always erase my own memories. Once I pass the review, I immediately restore the ones vital to me—and information about my son is the most important memory of all." At that moment, even the bewildered spectators understood whose profile Financier had just recited—it was his son's! "Have you given up, Mayor?" Menken blurted out in a daze. "The Consanguinity Prohibition Act is a superior law, second only to the Blood Moon Constitution itself! You have committed the crime of investigating reproduction, which is strictly forbidden under the act and punishable by life imprisonment or even death... Even if you survive the Blood Moon Trial, you will spend the rest of your days in the Shattered Lake!" In everyone's eyes, Financier was committing suicide! It wasn't as though none of them had ever investigated their own offspring, but almost all of them had hired a memory master to erase the knowledge right after finding out, because it was a capital crime! It was far more severe than trafficking tons of moon sugar, far worse even than being a serial killer! Investigating one's offspring defied the majesty of the Blood Moon Sovereign and desecrated the very foundation of the Blood Moon Country! "Yes, I violated the Consanguinity Prohibition Act..." The ogre chuckled. "Menken, it's been so many years since you graduated from law school. Do you still remember the significance of the act? Recite it for us." Perhaps shaken by Financier's revelation, or perhaps out of lingering obedience to the mayor, Menken replied without hesitation: "The Consanguinity Prohibition Act regulates the reproductive methods of all races, adjusting and protecting broad social relationships. It optimizes resource allocation, improves per capita resource levels, enhances the population quality of every ethnic group, dismantles the backward unit of the family, breaks class barriers, and abolishes the crude custom of inheritance, allowing every newborn to partake equally of society's resources. It serves as the legal foundation for 'racial equality and human equality.'" Financier adopted a look of sudden enlightenment. "Right. Racial equality, human equality. Can someone explain the deeper meaning behind those words to me?" "No one shall discriminate against others based on appearance, race, gender, education, employment, or other factors. Anyone subjected to behavioral or verbal discrimination may report it to the Sin Hunting Hall, having the right to defend their personal dignity. That is the content of the Racial Human Rights Act," Andere said. "Financier, what are you trying to say?" "The words you just spoke to me, I now return to you—Andere, it's not that you don't know what I'm thinking. You foresaw my thoughts, yet you still lack the guts to say them out loud." A hint of hysterical madness seemed to flash within the ogre's calm eyes. "At most, you only dared attack the two Blood Moon clans. Your stature is pitifully small after all." The others and the audience were flabbergasted. Was attacking the two Blood Moon clans not bold enough?! They were the true ruling class of the Blood Moon Country, the darlings of the Blood Moon Sovereign! Could he possibly be planning to attack the one who stood above them...? The redeemees cursed under their breath, wishing they could leap directly into the Shattered Lake to kill themselves. If Financier were allowed to keep talking, death might be the least of their worries! ... Inside the director's office at the Sin Hunting Hall, the director stared at the stream of incoming call alerts popping up on the light screen and impatiently swiped them all away. "They're blocking my view of the broadcast. Honestly." A look of intense excitement washed over her haggard face. "Can't these old fogies appreciate such an amusing farce? "Heh heh, you shoved me into this seat, and now you see your mistake? Stay trapped inside your church and institute! "Financier, let me see your true measure." ... "The Consanguinity Prohibition Act severed all kinship. We grow up in rearing institutes and are pronounced dead in hospitals. Whether life is long or short, throughout this entire journey, we can never form a bond we can trust," Financier said. "It turned us into solitary individuals. "The Racial Human Rights Act claims on its surface to eliminate discrimination, but in reality, it incites it. By demanding that different races, genders, education levels, and even age groups coexist in harmony, it forces fundamentally distinct beings to respect one another. How could that not breed resentment? Yet because of the act, everyone can only bury that discrimination deep within their hearts, letting the malice ferment into a higher, more natural, and far crueler prejudice. It forces us into endless internal strife, making it impossible for us to unite as a whole. "Andere, you said earlier that the Blood Moon Sovereign locked the Blood Saints in the institute and restricted the Moon Shadows to the Church to protect us." The ogre's voice echoed across the Shattered Lake. "I have a different view on that. "He silenced the Blood Saints, made the Moon Shadows kind, rendered us lonely, and prevented everyone from uniting. Do you know what that reminds me of? An obedient sheepdog and a self-managing sheepfold. "The Blood Moon Country is a livestock farm meticulously constructed by the Blood Moon Sovereign."