The Collapse of the Building

Inside the broadcasting studio of the Voice of Boulder City newspaper office. House trembled as he watched the rioters step inside, then glanced at Joy standing alongside them, his voice quivering. "Centurion, sir... W-what are you doing?" The K-10 "Iron Wall" heavy exoskeleton was the crowning achievement of Boulder Military Industries, typically issued to vanguard heavy infantry or frontline combat officers like decurions and centurions. Rumor had it that a single punch from it could kill a two-headed ox. Of course, those clad in these rigs used firearms most of the time, rarely engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Knowing all this, House was nearly frightened out of his wits. Joy glanced at House, a flicker of disdain in his eyes. He had never cared much for this man, even if he had tolerated him for a brief period before. Ever since the newspaper was launched, Joy had realized that not a single word of truth ever left his mouth—House was as entirely devoid of substance as nutrient paste. "I came to bring victory and glory to my children, and to become their role model." Joy looked back at Lovett, Alisa, and the rest of the Workers' Union comrades. "Over to you." Lovett nodded, stepped in front of House, and addressed the pale-faced clown. "We'd like to borrow your radio." He used the word "borrow," but House dared not refuse. Nodding like a chick pecking at grain, House forced a servile smile onto his bloodless face. "P-please, by all means! Do you need me to calibrate the equipment for you? Esteemed... Mr. Worker, sir." Seeing the sawdust clinging to the man's trousers, House figured he probably performed noble carpentry work. "No need," a worker stepped forward, shoving away the fawning House in disgust. "We're the ones who built your damn gear... Dammit, hearing that quacking duck voice of yours makes my skin crawl!" Another worker burst out laughing. "Haha, I second that! It sounds even worse than Lovett sawing wood!" "House! Why don't you give us a duck quack? It'd definitely sound better than the crap you usually spew!" House's face flushed blue and white in panic, his contorted expression looking on the verge of tears. Just then, a cough cut in. "Ahem! Quiet down, everyone. There's no need to make things hard for 'Ken'—we're only here to take back what was already ours!" Dragging House, who had nearly wet himself, away from the workers, Lovett patted his shoulder, steered him by the collar to the entrance of the newspaper office, and said kindly: "Go home. Don't go out tonight. When the gates of the Great Wall open, find a way to get out." "We won't beat you, but there's no telling what others might do." "Th-thank you!" Moved to tears and snot, House offered endless thanks before scrambling out of the office on all fours, vanishing in the blink of an eye like a rat diving into a snowdrift. Watching the figure disappear into the night, Lovett smiled, shut the door, and returned to the crowded studio, taking the microphone that a fellow worker had tuned. He cleared his throat and prepared to speak, when a crisp, clear voice suddenly came from the side, interrupting him. "Wait a moment." Everyone turned toward the young girl. No longer afraid even under the gaze of countless eyes, Alisa continued in an earnest voice: "We should prepare a broadcast script first, or rather, a speech. Everyone will hear your voice. We need to convey every piece of information accurately, not only to the outer city residents, but to the inner city residents as well... In short, we need a concrete program to tell them how we will achieve victory, and what will change after we win." Wisdom and courage beyond her years sparkled in her eyes; this ordeal seemed to have matured her by several years all at once. Lovett felt she carried the shadow of Bank President Melvin, yet she was also completely different. But what did it matter? Boer and Lord Stephen were separated by nothing more than a single thought. She was Melvin's daughter, so it was only natural that she took after her father. If she hadn't resembled him at all, that would have been frightening instead. "She's right." Lovett lowered the microphone and turned to the Workers' Union comrades. "We need to draft a program to let our fellow workers know that this is an uprising, not a riot." A worker nodded. "That's right! And tell those mercenaries to behave themselves! Don't let them think they're the only ones with guns!" Watching everyone discuss and chime in eagerly, Alisa's flushed face bloomed with a joyful smile. Finally, someone was willing to listen to her. And so many people, too. She hadn't been completely helpless after all. She believed that in the future, she would surely come up with better, more mature solutions than just crying. "'We do not seek to destroy everything, but we demand a new beginning!' How's that for an opening line?" Lovett looked at the workers, speaking a little self-consciously. An electrician gave a thumbs-up. "Brilliant!" Encouraged by his comrades, Lovett began to improvise, telling a story just like Sberg reading from the newspapers. "...The tangible Stephen can be destroyed, but the intangible Stephen cannot. We are their specters, and they are ours." Joy coughed. "Hold on. You might want to tweak that line. Aside from you folks in the Workers' Union, not many people know the story of Boer the Awakened. It might leave them scratching their heads." "And it's too wordy. Save those words for after we win," Alisa agreed with a nod. "Right now, we should use the plainest language to tell everyone what to do next." Just like the Alliance's Administrator! Lovett scratched the back of his head. "True enough." Most workers had only heard the tale of Boer the Awakened through word of mouth anyway; after all, not long after the snow began, Sberg had been dragged away by the lords. Many people had heard different versions. If Sberg was still alive, once they rescued him, they would definitely make him finish writing the story. Everyone racked their brains together. Some proposed improving labor conditions, some proposed lowering the price of bread, and others demanded raising taxes on the wealthy... but these assorted ideas all felt like scratching an itch through a boot. Alisa suddenly thought of the Alliance's "fundamental law" and the Administrator's declaration at the festival. Inspiration struck, and she blurted out: "A charter!" Joy frowned slightly. "You mean laws? Boulder City already has laws." "But the nobility doesn't have to obey them, do they?" Alisa looked at him without blinking. "As long as you hold a black card, you won't be punished even if you break them. And they didn't take Sberg away because he broke any law, did they?" Joy nodded. "It was the guards under the militia who took him." "From now on, things must be different! Otherwise, whatever we do will be meaningless, and everything will go right back to square one!" Alisa's eyes shone brightly as she clenched her slender fists. "The Inner City must release Sberg! Starting today, we must deliberate a 'fundamental law' that everyone obeys! We will grant it the power we once gave to the black cards!" Joy stared blankly at the young girl before him. He suddenly felt that his gamble—staking his future and fate—had not been in vain. Perhaps after tomorrow, this settlement really would become something different, and his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren would look back on him as a true source of pride and a role model. By the Great Horned Deer God. Although Boulder City had never had a king... If she were willing to be crowned, he would gladly pledge his loyalty to this queen. Lovett stared blankly at her as well, muttering under his breath: "Boer... She's Boer... She's Boer too?" He remembered Sberg had written: Boer had snapped his own black card... ... No emperor reigns forever, nor does any city-state stand immortal. Yet two centuries of faltering steps had not been in vain. It was precisely because humanity had grown weary of their savage, raw-flesh-and-blood existence that they summoned the courage to borrow fire from the heavens to dispel the dark ages. And when humanity finally learned to ignite the pyre with their own strength, the priests watching over the embers quietly withdrew from the stage of history. To the watcher of the embers, this was no regret. If he did not take the initiative to step into the new era, his people would one day be swallowed by the darkness. The old man who designed this settlement may not have failed to foresee what was happening today—a future that even the computer had not envisioned. He had led the people to build the Great Wall, designed Fang Ming, entrusted posterity to its care, and designed its ultimate demise. This was actually a gift. Only with both life and death could something be called true life; that which remained eternal was merely cold, hard stone. In its final moments, it had become human. And the "children" it watched over had finally greeted a new dawn after their long descent. Facing an inescapable catastrophe, the people gathered once more. They united to kindle the bonfires, just like their ancestors over two hundred years ago, weathering hardships together in the face of earth-shattering disaster. Shoulder to shoulder, irrespective of rank, wealth, age, or status, people sat warming themselves before the flames. There was no distinction between poor and rich here, because at this moment, none of it mattered anymore. Starting tomorrow, everyone would be equal. People tossed their chips into the bonfires. Watching the alternating yellow and green arcs of fire dancing above the flames, long-absent smiles appeared on the children's faces. Someone began to sing, someone strummed a six-string lute, and someone wove their story into a poem to teach the children to chant. Winter suddenly seemed far less cold. The workers brought out the food stored in the warehouses and shared it with everyone; after all, their bosses had fled the settlement long ago. Of course, they didn't just take it for free. They left behind little slips of paper inside—the checks issued to them by their bosses. Now was the time to cash them. The Workers' Union took over the Voice of Boulder City broadcast. A representative named Lovett announced the program of this uprising over the airwaves. It was meant for the nobles of the Inner City to hear. And it was meant for their own people to hear. The endless cycle ended here; after the boundless long night came a new beginning. The sun certainly wouldn't rise just because people needed to get up. Yet the sun would rise all the same. This, too, was an eternal destiny and truth... ... The next morning. The heavy snow had finally ceased. A ray of morning sun pierced through the dense blanket of clouds, coating the snow-covered streets of Boulder City in a golden-yellow hue. After announcing the program of the uprising, the Workers' Union used the Voice of Boulder City broadcast to rally the residents to unite and cooperate with the militia in rationing the city's stockpiled supplies. Following consultations between the Workers' Union and the militia, they decided to join forces with the City Hall to establish a "Crisis Response Office" to oversee the transition toward a new Boulder City administration. The pressing task was resolving immediate issues. To ensure everyone had something to eat, some workers returned to their posts under the mobilization of the Workers' Union. The nutrient paste factories resumed operations, and the Workers' Union's welfare center—the Boulder City Prison—was opened to the public. Yet the supply deficit remained vast. Even though Melvin had previously held back a batch of goods intended for the Alliance's order delivery, remaining food and daily necessities were severely lacking. On whether to requisition supplies forcibly from residents hoarding large quantities of food, considerable disagreement emerged between the Workers' Union and the militia. Some believed harsh measures were called for in turbulent times; others argued that was outright robbery. Still others suggested compensating those requisitioned... but anyone with half a brain knew chips were worthless now. No one recognized that currency anymore. Paying with chips was tantamount to daylight robbery! The Workers' Union could mobilize the workers, and the militia could mobilize the soldiers siding with the outer city residents, but Boulder City was composed of more than just them. Who was going to mobilize the citizens and mercenaries? Seeing no opportunity to loot, some mercenaries clamored to leave the city, and some citizens wanted to follow them out; rumor had it that begging in the Alliance was more comfortable than staying here. If last night all the residents of this city had stood proudly on the side of ideals, today they were forced to confront a grim reality— The lords of the Inner City had left behind a monumental mess. The Boulder City handed over to its residents had already been riddled with gaping holes eaten away by countless parasites... In an office in City Hall. Alisa was diligently flipping through the ledger in her hands, cross-checking it with the documents spread across the desk. As a member of the Crisis Response Office—and its youngest—she was responsible for auditing the assets the Outer City Hall could currently deploy. Although some had voiced doubt over her experience and loyalties, the comrades of the Workers' Union stood firmly behind her. Most members of the Workers' Union held simple, honest values. Compared to those slick, cunning clever-clogs who spouted nothing but lies, they would rather trust an inexperienced girl who was at least willing to speak the truth to them. If the calculations were wrong, that was fine. Just correct them. They weren't unreasonable barbarians. And Alisa did not disappoint everyone's expectations. The very first thing she did was raid her own family's properties in the outer city, followed by the outer city businesses belonging to her older brother's cronies. The computers of the Bank of Boulder City recorded every single chip expenditure, making it easy to track down the assets hidden in the outer city by the noble lords. These were all ill-gotten gains. They rightfully belonged to all residents of Boulder City. Looking at the thick stack of ledgers in her hands, Alisa's eyes were filled with sorrow and worry. Only now did she realize what burdens her father had shouldered for their family and this settlement. Economics was merely a means of distributing supplies; it couldn't conjure things out of thin air. Just as her father had said before leaving home, he had exhausted every method he could think of, yet still couldn't stop this train hurtling toward the bottom of the cliff. Thinking of her sorrowful, aging father, Alisa couldn't help but quietly grumble at the spiritual pillar in her heart—the esteemed Administrator. "You were too ruthless..." With furrowed brows, Alisa sighed and softly closed the ledger. The breach of contract penalties for private factories were already an untangleable mess. No matter how the factories in the Alliance complained, all they could do was apologize. After all, chips were completely done for; continuing to fulfill orders denominated in chips was equivalent to doing free labor for the Alliance. Not to mention that the bosses who signed those orders had long since fled. They couldn't expect the workers, who were also creditors, to pay off the debts of those crooked merchants, could they? Of course, those debts denominated in chips would also be waived for the Alliance... after all, no amount of chips held any meaning anymore. Boulder City had to survive the harsh winter on the meager supplies left, and Boulder City's foreign trade would have to be suspended for a while. Yet the dilemma was that Boulder City's raw materials were completely dependent on imports! Whether raw materials for industrial goods or food. They could stop selling goods to outsiders, but outsiders wouldn't give them things for free either. A sudden whimsical thought crossed Alisa's mind. Perhaps... Should they encourage everyone to grow some vegetables in flowerpots? But where would seeds come from? She heard farming wasn't simple at all. Take their neighbor, the Alliance, for example. They bred seeds in the computerized vertical farming towers of the north suburbs and the cultivation zones of the shelter, pairing them with chemical fertilizer produced in the industrial zone to sustain high crop yields on the north shore of Ling Lake. And nowadays, crops from the north suburbs alone were no longer enough to satisfy the needs of the Alliance's residents. Recently, they converted part of the outer farmland into breeding fields managed by the Seed Research Division of the Biology Lab, then exported the harvested seeds alongside fertilizer from the industrial zone to Sunset Province in exchange for large quantities of staple crops, only then keeping all Alliance residents fed. And within all that lay countless details invisible to her. The food issue alone contained a book's worth of knowledge. Though she had attended school, teachers had never taught her such things in depth. Alisa felt a faint ache between her brows. Ahhh... Too difficult! She hadn't slept all night. Even though her nerves had been running on high, she was starting to wear out. Spreading her small hands flat on the desk, Alisa rested her cheek against the ledger to nap, her dizzy head drifting into wild daydreams. What if... She acted cute and pleaded with the Administrator? Maybe that wouldn't be a bad idea. Maybe seeing how adorable she was, he would grant the people of Boulder City a shipment of supplies? As long as it allowed everyone to make it through the winter safely, she was willing to do anything. After all, her family owed the residents of this settlement far too much. The people had kindly forgiven her, but unilateral charity was just alms. She wanted to do something for everyone, to repay the debts owed by her father, mother, brothers, and sisters. This was the only thing she could do... As her thoughts drifted, Alisa's face suddenly flushed red. She gave her head a vigorous shake, banishing the unrealistic, piecemeal thoughts from her steaming brain. She couldn't be like her father... Begging was useless. "...He said I would become an exceptional person," Alisa murmured softly, lifting her face from the ledger and steadying her resolve. It was precisely those words that had encouraged her. Only then had she bravely stepped forward at that crucial moment deciding her fate and everyone else's. If she had chosen to look on as a bystander while everyone else watched silently like her, they never would have arrived at that one-in-ten-thousand possibility. "I've already accomplished one thing... I can't disappoint him." Her eyes regained their clarity, sparkling with wisdom, as she pondered aloud to herself: "...Still, there should be hope in diplomatic negotiations with the Alliance regarding the refugees." The Alliance surely wouldn't want to see hundreds of thousands of refugees overwhelm the order they had worked so hard to maintain; helping Boulder City was helping themselves. Their makeshift apartment blocks could currently house just over forty thousand people at most, and rumor had it more than half were already occupied. Clearly, they had underestimated how "rotten" Boulder City was. That esteemed Administrator was probably nursing a headache over how to defuse this ticking bomb right next door, wasn't he? Mm-hmm. Having found a breakthrough to solve the problem, a faint smile curved at the corners of her mouth. "'Esteemed Administrator, we will keep the gates shut tight and persuade everyone to wait patiently until the end of winter and the spring tide. At the same time, we earnestly request the Alliance to support us with some nutrient paste and winter fuel essential for our survival... We sincerely ask you to lend a helping hand.' "Such negotiations should work." If push came to shove, it could take the form of a loan. The new Boulder City authorities could take out a special loan from the Alliance Bank to purchase emergency relief supplies like nutrient paste. She heard that stuff tasted terrible and wasn't very nutritious, but she was willing to eat it alongside everyone until their lives got back on track. As for the future... Alisa's gaze grew slightly hazy. For Boulder City, the best outcome would naturally be joining the Alliance, or at least becoming a partner of the Alliance like the states of Sunset Province. However, this wasn't a decision she could make alone; it required consulting everyone in this settlement. Besides, wanting it themselves was pointless. Boulder City had a larger population than all four Alliance cities combined. Wanting to join someone else meant considering whether they were even willing to take it on. This was an astronomically gigantic mess... Just then, a knock came at the door, and Lovett walked in. Alisa pushed against the desk with both hands, immediately standing up. "Mr. Lovett, you've arrived at just the right time! I'd like you to represent Boulder City in negotiations with the Alliance!" Lovett was taken aback, then his brows furrowed. "Put that aside for a moment... Something major has happened in the Inner City." Alisa froze. "...The Inner City?" Because the outer city still had a mountain of unresolved problems, the new Boulder City authorities had not forced the Inner City residents to surrender, nor rushed them to come out immediately. They had merely unilaterally announced the program of the uprising, the establishment of the new authorities, and other matters to them. The Great Wall was already controlled by mutinous soldiers, and command of the militia was basically in the hands of Joy and other grassroots officers. If before it had been the Inner City locking the outer city out, now it was the outer city surrounding the entire Inner City. Once the problems of the outer city were settled, dealing with the Inner City residents would be the same. Alisa didn't understand why Lovett would bring up the Inner City at this moment, but when she finished listening to his explanation, all color drained from her face. "What... the Boulder Building is about to collapse?!" Lovett nodded with a complicated expression. "I think Stephen... I mean the Inner City residents, probably aren't lying. "They stockpiled months of supplies in the Inner City. If not for something monumental happening, given their attitude last night, they most likely intended to hold out behind that perimeter wall until all of us died of old age." Alisa bit her lip. Her mother, brothers, and sisters were still inside... "What... what are their demands?" Lovett remained silent for a moment before saying, "What they demand is no longer important. The issue now is how we treat them once they come out. Of course, the folks from the Workers' Union said that as long as Sberg is alive, we can spare their lives. But we all think Sberg probably didn't make it. After all, with that amount of blood, I'd believe you if you told me a pig had been slaughtered there..." Silence descended upon the office. Just as the tension reached its peak, a soft cough drifted into the room along with the sound of approaching footsteps. "Ahem... My old friend, are you really that eager for me to die?" Hearing that familiar voice, Lovett whipped around in pleasant surprise to see Sberg standing at the door with a beaming smile, an arm casually propped against the doorframe in a jaunty pose. "By the Great Horned Deer God..." Lovett strode forward and patted the man's rough old face, emotional tears almost squeezing out. "You're alive! How did you pull it off?" "That wasn't my blood..." Swatting Lovett's hand away, Sberg said with a grin, "You probably won't believe this, but thanks to our esteemed city lord, I watched a very, very long movie." "The city lord? What does that have to do with the city lord..." Lovett suddenly remembered something, grabbed him by the collar, and demanded impatiently, "Forget about movies or whatever! What about the rest of the story?!" Sberg looked at him sheepishly. "Actually, you guys already finished writing it for me, and wrote it way better than I did..." Lovett glared at him. "Don't you damn well think about slacking off! We want to read what you write!" "Alright, alright... Once I have some free time, I'll finish it in one breath. But to gather material, I might have to visit the north suburbs first." Restraining the bearded man who was on the verge of madness, Sberg coughed, then turned his gaze toward the tearful young girl in the room. "A pleasure to meet you... You must be Alisa, right? I'm Sberg, an unpaid laborer from the canning factory. A highborn young lady like you probably would never have met a pauper like me in your whole life." "Cut out that teasing; she's on our side now." A large hand rested on his shoulder as Joy walked in through the doorway. Looking at Alisa, he continued: "They released Sberg. Seeing that he's in one piece, the Workers' Union decided to grant amnesty to the Inner City residents. They can stay and join us—after all, this is their home too. Of course, they can leave as well, but under the same rules as the rest of us: twenty kilograms of luggage per person—" Sberg immediately chimed in: "Wait, you need to add a condition: valued under ten thousand silver coins—" "Thank you!!!" Holding back the flood of tears, Alisa bowed deeply, but the tears hidden behind her bangs still dripped onto the floorboards. Of course, those weren't tears of sorrow... She couldn't even describe the surging emotions in her heart. Together, hand in hand, they had reached an outcome that had seemed nearly impossible. Yet here they stood. All of them together... Just then, a small hand gently tugged at her sleeve, accompanied by a crisp voice from beside her. "Big Sister, don't cry... Everyone is saved." Alisa's eyes widened, and she looked up slightly to see a little girl of only six or seven gazing at her with concern. "Who are you..." "My child, Anna." Walking up beside Alisa, Joy lifted Anna into his arms, affectionately tapping the little girl's nose with his index finger. "She returned this morning with her older brothers, sisters, and mother, following the people fleeing the Inner City... I told them everything that happened, and this little girl insisted on coming to see Big Sister Alisa." Alisa stared blankly at the father and daughter, sniffling instinctively, not wanting to leave her little admirer with the impression of a crybaby. Anna, however, didn't seem to mind. Perhaps because she was a bit of a crybaby herself, seeing Alisa suddenly stop crying, her eyes sparkled and she gave a thumbs-up. "Big Sister is amazing!" Blushing, Alisa said, "I... I really didn't do anything. Your father is much more amazing." "Hahaha, of course!" Joy laughed heartily, the corners of his stubbled mouth curling up uncontrollably, making no effort to hide his pride. "My precious daughter did say—" "I'm her pride." ... Inside the grim, chilly Boulder Building, all was empty and deserted. Injured and exhausted, Rhine had spent immense effort and finally managed to slip inside at dawn, taking advantage of the moment the Inner City gates opened. He hid in the Inner City for a while to ensure no one was tailing him before creeping toward the Boulder Building at the center. At a time when everyone was running outward, he was the sole person rushing toward the Inner City. The Inner City residents were like madmen, crowding the exits in swarms, fleeing outward like pigs released from a pen. This, however, suited his purpose perfectly. He didn't care about the clashes between paupers and the powerful. Bugra didn't have so much messy nonsense; every employee under Flint Group was extraordinarily happy, putting company interests above all else. As a member of Flint Group, he was here to retrieve something... A weapon capable of granting the Free State true freedom. Pushing open the doors of the conference hall, he stepped over the entryway strewn with scattered papers. Holding a flashlight-equipped pistol, he hurried his gaze across this ruined hall. This was where the noble lords normally held their meetings. "Dammit... Why didn't they even turn on a lamp?" Rhine muttered. Although the morning sun had already brightened the sky outside, the Boulder Building was ringed by tall towers, leaving little light to reach here. The morning rays stretched the curtains' shadows long and eerie... "Heheh... heh..." A chilling laughter suddenly drifted over, startling Rhine. He hastily swung both his flashlight and muzzle toward the corner of the conference room. A man sat there. Dressed in a lavish formal suit. Judging by his attire, he was likely an Inner City noble. Delighted, Rhine cleared his throat and called out: "Hey, friend, let's make a deal! As long as you help me find something, I'll take you out of this doomed place!" "A deal? Get out? Heheh... heh... Hahahahaha!" Xide, who had been softly chuckling, suddenly erupted into mad, hysterical laughter. The sudden violent motion and laughter gave Rhine another fright; thinking the man was about to pull a trick, his finger almost twitched on the trigger. "Shut up! Are you fucking crazy?!" Rhine roared in irritation and moved toward him, intending to teach this lunatic a lesson. Xide ignored him completely, his eyes glued to the trading terminal in his hands—or rather, fixed on that flat line stuck dead against the bottom edge of the screen. "Upside down... I actually held it upside down... Heh... It was upside down the whole time..." "Upside down?" Rhine frowned at him. "What's upside down?" Xide still gave no answer. His world seemed reduced to only himself. His heartbeat, just like that line welded dead against the floor, had completely lost any rise and fall... S-coin had suffered an avalanche. One S-coin couldn't even fetch 0.00001 chips. He didn't know why it had crashed so catastrophically. Just as he hadn't known why that thing had surged in the first place. It turned out S-coin could drop below its issue price... Xide only knew that now. Yet no one had ever told him. "It's all over." With a face as pale as death, Xide muttered to himself. Like a walking corpse, he stared blankly up at the ceiling. He seemed to see his ancestors beckoning to him. "Father... Grandfather... I'm sorry." "I lost." "I couldn't beat them... They're all against me. They're real pieces of shit, and I'm a piece of shit too." Tears traced the wrinkles around his eyes, slipped past his earlobes, and rolled onto the floor, splashing onto the black card coated in grime and patinated dirt. Suddenly, as if jolted by an electric shock, he sat bolt upright and buried his face in both hands, his shoulders quivering like a child who had done wrong. "Sob, sob, sob..." "I..." "I'll go apologize to you in person!" In the end, he still lacked the courage to face the people outside... The floor suddenly began to tremble. Rhine's face changed violently. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew this building beneath his feet was probably throwing a tantrum just like the old bastard before him. "Fuck—" It was too late to run. Collapsing rubble swiftly engulfed everything here. With the last corner of his vision, he glimpsed the crazed old man suddenly standing up to embrace the falling ceiling... The Boulder Building collapsed with a deafening roar. The billowing dust swallowed the entire Inner City in an instant, crashing violently against the Inner City perimeter walls alongside the tumbling masonry and debris. Then it billowed upward... That building. In the end, it had fallen. ... The Wind from Afar Hotel. The top-floor luxury suite. Father and son stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at Boulder City close at hand. From here, their view reached right over the Great Wall, extending all the way into the Inner City. Weijia had specifically reserved this room with the most expansive vista just to watch this settlement's final spectacle. The owner here, Riston, was a man capable of big business. Even though Weijia had paid in chips, Riston hadn't kicked him out just because chips were now worthless. Staring unblinkingly at the dust billowing in the distance, Weijia pressed all ten fingertips against the glass, muttering endlessly under his breath: "Collapsed... It actually collapsed..." The Boulder Building being blown up was beyond his expectations. Was it blown up by the rioters? Or... Had its "expiration date" arrived? "Ah... my dear Lord Xide, you must be safe." A twisted smile gradually crept onto Weijia's face. To keep his son from seeing it, he pressed his nose against the window too. Standing beside him, the chubby little Pilu muttered, "What a pity... I didn't get to dump my chips." "Take it as a lesson, child," Weijia restrained his twisted smile, resting a hand on Pilu's shoulder. "To become an exceptional traveling merchant, you first must possess a nose sharper than a hyena's." Pilu tilted his round head. "A nose sharper than a hyena's?" "Risk," Weijia said with a smile. "You must know whether the person across from you is a human or a ghost, and you must also be wary of whether what's in your hand is money or scrap paper. You handled the S-coin matter well, but not well enough. You only noticed the risk of S-coin, but failed to realize that the chips anchoring it could turn to trash as well." "Who could have guessed that... They'd been used for a century and a half," Pilu grumbled. Weijia smiled faintly. "Which is why those people there are now all paupers, while we walk away unscathed." As they spoke, a knock came at the door, and Aron pushed it open and entered. Weijia immediately turned to him. "Where's Xide?" He had already transferred all the assets he could transfer; now, the only person in this city he still cared about was that childhood companion. Aron shook his head regretfully. "He wasn't among the evacuees from the Inner City... He's likely dead." A flicker of disappointment appeared on Weijia's face, and he muttered in a daze, "Dead... He's actually dead." Aron paused, then continued, "However, his wife and three children are still alive, including his eldest son who has already started a family." He felt this was a lead his boss would be interested in. Sure enough, the moment he spoke those words, the flame of desire reignited in those crestfallen eyes. Stepping away from the window, Weijia walked up to Aron in excitement and gripped his shoulders. "We must fish them out! Every single one!" Releasing Aron's shoulders, Weijia rubbed his hands excitedly, walked over to the side table, and poured himself a glass of General Maclen's reserve red wine. "...I gave my word. I would repay Lord Xide's kindness in full, and now it's our turn to repay that debt!" He hadn't forgotten the words he had spoken in person to that lord at Xide's mansion that day— 'I will be forever loyal to you... My lord, I will surely repay you.' Seeing that fervent gaze, Aron nodded helplessly. "Understood." What twisted tastes this boss had... Then again, on this wasteland, where were there so many good people? Watching the door close, Weijia suddenly thought of something. Wagging his index finger, he set down his fine wine and returned to the floor-to-ceiling window. The dust in the distance had already dispersed. Yet someone was still staring fixedly in that direction, as if reminiscing about something. They couldn't afford nostalgia. Any regrets had to be settled right now. Placing a hand on his son's thick shoulder, Weijia spoke in a gentle murmur: "My child... Is there someone you can't let go of? I'll have Uncle Aron buy them out for you." "Kermit!" Pilu's eyes lit up, his face beaming. "I loved playing with him! It's just that he was too bossy—he always snatched the toys and girls I had my eye on. He never acted like that toward Jixiu." Weijia frowned. "That habit has to be corrected." Pilu immediately lowered his head in fright. "I'm sorry..." "Lift your head, my child," Weijia patted his shoulder and said softly. "You're not the one who should apologize. Desire is human nature. What I meant was... his willful habit needs correcting. You cannot be as overbearing as those crude fellows. You saw it—that cloud of dust is their end." Pilu nodded earnestly. "I'll remember this lesson." A satisfied smile appeared on Weijia's face. Worthy of being his son. Inheriting his mantle would be no problem at all. "I'm very pleased, but you shouldn't think only of yourself. You must help your good friend too; after all, he took plenty of 'care' of you. From now on, we'll all be scraping a living on this man-eating wasteland, so he can't be as willful as before." The tiny bead-like eyes squeezed between folds of fat gleamed, and Pilu nodded vigorously, his tone solemn. "I understand! I'll help Young Master Kermit break his willful, crude habits and remind him not to always snatch other people's things." "Splendid." Weijia gave a thumbs-up, laughing heartily as he patted his son's shoulder. "Afterward, I will send you both to the Bugra Free State. Young Master Kermit will go to school there with you. Be sure to look after him." "Don't worry, Father!" Pilu nodded enthusiastically. "Though, why aren't we going to Ideal City?" "That place isn't suitable for us. Their ideals are poison to anyone other than themselves; you'll understand when you grow up," Weijia smiled. "Besides, you wouldn't want to turn into an idiot like Jixiu, would you?" "That Jixiu really isn't too bright; praising him is exhausting," Pilu muttered. "Right, speaking of Jixiu... Dad, shouldn't we help Melvin's family too?" Pilu didn't care about Jixiu, but he remembered Jixiu had a pretty younger sister. She was practically the prettiest girl among all the women he had ever seen; the older women at the Queen of the Night Bar couldn't compare to her at all. Yet Jixiu had never been willing to bring her into their circle. A trace of wariness suddenly surfaced in Weijia's eyes. Staring into his son's eyes, he said in no uncertain terms: "He has his own father; there's no need for us to worry about them." Of course. Weijia didn't tell his son that what he feared wasn't Melvin, who had already fallen from grace, but his youngest daughter, Alisa. To be precise, the person standing behind her. Until this "war" concluded, Weijia Trading Firm had never completely uncovered all the cards the Alliance had played in the "Boulder City Crisis." They had executed everything cleanly and crisply—destroying the chips, destroying the black cards, without a single casualty, and nonchalantly packing up their spoils of war to return home. Even he, a "grunt" who had been pounded senseless in the trenches, couldn't help but admire them. They had truly played a masterful game of chess. His Lord Xide had not lost unfairly. All leads, both overt and covert, pointed toward that Administrator. He wasn't sure whether Melvin had secretly struck a bargain with the Alliance, but he had to pay sufficient heed to an inconspicuous piece of intelligence. According to the results of Aron's investigation, Alisa had crossed paths with that Administrator once at the Alliance's triumph celebration. The ruler of the Alliance had reportedly spoken at length, praising her and saying she would become a capable woman. And the very day after Melvin had checked into a hotel under a resident enterprise subsidiary and met with Luka, the mayor of Dawn City, he had secretly opened an account at the Alliance's bank. Although these were merely rumors caught out of thin air—perhaps even leaked intentionally by that old fox Melvin himself—considering that the "New Weijia Trading Firm" would still need to do business in River Valley Province in the future, this matter warranted prudent consideration. He abhorred risk. Especially unnecessary risk...