Morning light cascaded from the sky, dusting the man's shoulders in a sacred coat of gold.
MacLaren narrowed his eyes, studying the face.
Its sharp, angular contours radiated an intimidating authority without anger, much like the majestic, imperious flying palace beneath his feet. Yet his sunken eye sockets harbored a shallow cunning and cruelty that betrayed internal weakness—just like the common hyenas of the wasteland.
Supposedly, his name was Wutuo Xilan.
Yet for this emperor who stood above ten thousand men, MacLaren felt only scorn.
Setting aside His Excellency the Marshal, whose military exploits were legendary, even when compared to the one he had met in Dawn City, this fellow was no different from a monkey wearing a crown.
Perhaps his father had been a remarkable man.
But the Wilante respected strength, not someone's father.
What MacLaren found even more baffling was that the people here actually prostrated themselves before a monkey, reverently addressing him as the supreme emperor.
Did no one ever stop to wonder whether this guy was even worthy?
MacLaren could not understand why the great Marshal had instructed spineless civil officials to manage this land. Against a joke like this, there was no need to mobilize the Eastern or Southern Legion—MacLaren could shoot down this so-called Tiandu single-handedly with just an airship.
They were born slaves.
Conquer this place, and every Wilante could be allotted two of them. That was what the Legion ought to be doing.
Still, catching a pointed glance from the adjutant beside him, MacLaren reined in his temper, cleared his throat, and offered a perfunctory greeting.
"Your Majesty, I bring you the friendship of Triumph City."
A slight forward tilt of his forehead hid the disdain curling at the corner of his lips. He didn't even bother introducing himself and cut straight to the point.
The adjutant hadn't expected this stubborn lord to cooperate for long anyway. He hastily picked up the thread, smiling politely as he spoke.
"Your Majesty, this is General MacLaren, whom we recommended to you. He has rendered distinguished service for the Legion in the desert and forged the Falcon Kingdom—once the weakest in the Sunset Province—into the desert's foremost power! With him serving as your military adviser, he will undoubtedly forge an invincible army of iron for you!"
Looking down at the two Wilante standing at the foot of the stairs, Wutuo Xilan stroked his thick beard, a radiant smile wreathing his face.
He grew fonder of General MacLaren the more he looked at him!
The man possessed every quality befitting a fierce warrior—unruly, wild, and endowed with a high, prominent nasal bridge. A born general!
There was no shortage of tall, burly men in Brahma Province, but compared to the Wilante who were born for battle, they still fell somewhat short.
"The gods bless my Xilan!" he proclaimed gleefully, raising both hands in a welcoming gesture. "I have long heard of the general's renown, and seeing you today proves your reputation well-earned! I have already prepared a banquet in the palace to welcome you. Please, come with me!"
As his voice fell, an elephant-shaped sedan chair decorated with flower baskets was brought to a halt at the foot of the carved marble stairs. Four burly, dark-skinned men bent their knees slightly, setting the palanquin down heavily onto the stone.
MacLaren shot a glance at the four men.
"I have legs."
He was not about to ride in this ridiculous, rocking contraption; that was a toy meant for three-year-olds.
With that, he strode straight up the steps.
The adjutant looked at this eccentric fellow, caught between tears and laughter. Glancing at the idle palanquin, he looked up and offered the elevated emperor a helpless shrug, then braced himself and followed MacLaren up the stairs.
Seeing this, Wutuo showed not the slightest displeasure. If anything, he was all the more delighted to have met a "true Wilante."
The party proceeded to the central palace of the Heavenly Palace, passed through a colonnade blooming with vibrant flowers, and entered a lavish, magnificent banquet hall.
The guests took their seats.
Weighed down by his thoughts, MacLaren held his breath as he stared at the officials and nobles leisurely taking their places. His forefinger tapped restlessly on the table. Finally losing his patience, he leaned toward the calm and composed adjutant and whispered:
"When are we going to tell them about the port?"
The adjutant blinked, glancing at him in surprise.
"Why should we tell them?"
MacLaren stared at him in disbelief for a long beat. Opening his hands, he didn't even know how to put it into words, conveying his thoughts purely through his eyes:
'They're your allies, and you're asking me why?'
Quickly realizing MacLaren had misunderstood something, the adjutant cleared his throat softly and whispered in his ear.
"When dealing with them, we must adopt their philosophy. Golden Gallon Port is the Emperor's domain. If you want to be his friend, you can't discover a problem before he does. He has his appointed governor and his own intelligence network. Even without our reminder, he will realize something is wrong sooner or later."
MacLaren laughed in spite of himself. He realized his temper had indeed improved considerably; he could even rein it in enough to ask:
"So we just sit here and wait?"
The adjutant shook his head slightly.
"There's no waiting involved. What's there to wait for? Do I look anxious to you? We can simply act as though the problem doesn't exist. Besides, it does them good to suffer a little. Only when they get hurt will they rely on us and trade their resources for our rifles... You'll get used to it after spending some time here. In dealing with them, you must never be in a rush—and above all, you must never be more anxious than they are."
Speechless, MacLaren stared at the man, ultimately giving up the argument. He picked up his teacup and downed a mouthful.
Deep down, he yearned to wipe away his past disgrace, but here he saw not a shred of hope. There was only the gnawing agony of having his time and patience wasted away.
He suddenly began to regret coming here...
...
While Tiandu, the Empire's Heavenly Capital, was still reveling in joyous celebration, the garrison of Golden Gallon Port was being battered into wailing tears by the Burning Corps, huddled deep within the slums and too terrified to show their faces.
They had discovered that as long as they stayed mingled with the civilians, the bastards from the port wouldn't shell them, only returning fire when shot at.
Of course, that rule was hardly absolute.
For instance, when they attempted to set up artillery in a slum courtyard to bombard the docks, they were promptly greeted with mortar rounds and targeted strikes from drones.
The survivors living in the slums had learned their lesson as well. Seeing that sticking around these soldiers brought nothing but explosions, they refused to share space with them. Whenever they spotted city garrison uniforms, they scattered far away, some even watching the spectacle from a safe distance.
Something similar had happened a month ago, when these rifle-toting overlords were chased through the streets like panicked rats by a white bear.
This time seemed far more ruthless.
Men clad in exoskeletons had stormed straight into the Governor's Mansion. Not only were the governor's private troops routed with their heads in their hands, but the twin-blade banner flying atop the mansion roof had also been torn down.
Not far outside the mansion's perimeter walls, residents from several neighboring streets ventured onto the roads, curiously watching the commotion in the distance.
"Now that's a rare sight."
"Just which high lord did Master Nihak offend?"
"Who knows which god protects these iron men? They fight like demons—even General Abinan was no match for them!"
"Could they be Wilante?!"
"Impossible! The Legion is an old friend of ours. Why would they attack us?"
"Could it be people from Silver Moon Bay?"
"Even less likely! How many people does Silver Moon Bay even have? Don't let their fancy clothes fool you; they're just dogs living off His Majesty's scraps."
"True. They still have to do business with us. Offending us would be the last thing they'd want."
"...Could it be the Alliance? Those lunatics a month ago seemed to be Alliance people too."
The survivors whispered among themselves, shoving and daring one another to go take a closer look, until they finally pushed forward a scrawny, raggedly dressed Ratfolk lad.
Just then, several exoskeleton-clad men with rifles slung across their chest plates pushed open the backyard iron gate and stepped out.
The survivors crowded along the muddy road scattered at once, diving into nearby alleyways, leaving only the short, emaciated boy standing frozen in the middle of the street.
Deciding to show some friendliness before showing off, Yincha Yangcuo popped open his helmet visor, crouched down with a grin, and waved.
"Come here."
The lad stared nervously at him, but summoned his courage and walked forward.
Yincha Yangcuo looked at him. "What's your name?"
"...Axin."
"Very good, Axin. Which house is yours?"
The lad glanced back and pointed to a dwelling hanging a red cloth curtain, then looked back at the exoskeleton-wearing man before him.
Yincha Yangcuo smiled and continued, "How much is a house like yours worth, roughly?"
"One two-headed ox, or two pigs..." Seeming to grasp the intention behind his gaze, the lad quickly added, "But you can't buy it, sir. My grandfather, parents, four brothers, and three sisters all live there. If you buy it, we'll have nowhere to go."
Beside them, Mei You Jia Ren blinked in astonishment. He instinctively raised his binoculars to take a look, but no matter how he inspected it, the place was barely twenty square meters, even if it had two floors.
Holy crap.
How the hell did they cram so many people into that nook?!
Looking at the pathetic kid before him, Yincha Yangcuo found himself in a bit of a dilemma. It seemed this quest wasn't quite as fun as he had imagined.
After all, that was someone's home.
Even if they were just NPCs.
After pondering for a moment, he squatted down, locked eyes with the boy, and said, "Listen. Your master provoked us, which is why we're standing here. Maybe my superiors have a fancier way of putting it, but I'm not going to be a hypocrite and tell you we came in peace. Truth is, we're here to kick ass. Whether it's the Gray Wolf Corps or the Gray Dog Corps, we're going to beat them until they're spitting teeth, and we won't leave until they beg for mercy and pay reparations.
"I don't want to tear down your home, but a war is going on here. Like it or not, that area is going to be rubble soon. You've only got two choices right now: take some cash from us and move somewhere else, or wait for the imperial army to commandeer your house and end up buried alongside them."
Axin went quiet for a moment. Knowing that objecting was useless, he asked bluntly, "How much are you willing to give us?"
Yincha Yangcuo did some quick mental math. The quest required clearing at least five hundred households—naturally, the more, the better.
There were at most a thousand-odd shacks in this vicinity, and a hundred-million budget was more than enough to clear a massive zone. So he replied:
"One hundred thousand Xilan coins."
Hearing such an astronomical sum, the lad's breathing hitched instantly. Swallowing hard, he asked, "How many do you plan to buy... all the houses here? A hundred thousand for every one?"
Yincha Yangcuo chuckled. "That's right. I won't beat around the bush with you. Once we close our deal, I want you to spread the word. Latecomers get nothing."
Axin immediately blurted, "Not enough."
"Not enough?" Yincha Yangcuo blinked, giving him a strange look.
Was this kid trying to shake him down because he seemed easy to talk to?
Seeing the look in his eyes, the boy swallowed nervously and explained in a rush, "A hundred thousand Xilan coins can buy ten big fat pigs! If you offer that much all at once, they definitely won't agree. Everyone will hold out for more, people who don't even live in this neighborhood will try to sneak in, and some might even try to collect twice!"
Looking at this intriguing kid, Yincha Yangcuo chuckled. "We're not here to negotiate business. You don't actually think our guns are just for show, do you?"
"Then just kill them. That's the fastest way," Axin said without hesitation. Looking calmly at the dumbfounded man before him, he pressed on, "If you don't want to get your hands dirty, let me help you! Just give me ninety thousand per house. Not only will I drive them out for you, but I'll also tear down all those dwellings—every mud wall that imperial soldiers could use for cover—so they'll be lying on broken bricks as easy target practice for you!"
Ban Sui Cuo Tuo couldn't help chiming in, "Aren't they your own people?"
Axin looked at him in silence. His peripheral vision swept over the pairs of curious eyes peeking at him from corners, and he said slowly, "I am Ratfolk. They have Foxfolk, Wolf-folk, Pigfolk, Catfolk... all kinds. Not one of them cares whether I live or die, and I don't give a damn about them either. But you care about me. I can risk my life for you. Whether it's killing or arson, whatever is inconvenient for you to do, I'll do it."
The four players exchanged glances.
Surprise was written across three pairs of eyes, but delight shone in only one—their team leader.
Grinning from ear to ear, Yincha Yangcuo reached out to ruffle the lad's head, giving him a pat on the back of his head.
"Not bad, kid, you've got some sense. Ninety thousand a house it is. Just get the job done for us. But remember: keep it quiet. Absolutely no killing or burning things down—we're civilized people."
A flash of joy crossed Axin's face. He took a deep breath to steady himself and said, "I can definitely do it! Give me three days! Of course... if some stubborn prick refuses to budge no matter what, you have to help me teach him a lesson."
Yincha Yangcuo: "That's a bit tough. We have our discipline; we can't shoot unarmed people. At most, we can help you scare the guy."
Axin held out his hand. "Then give me a gun! I have to protect myself and my family!"
Yincha Yangcuo glanced at Mei You Jia Ren, who immediately caught on. Grinning, he unhitched a pistol looted from the Governor's Mansion guards and handed it to the lad.
"...Remember to chamber a round and disengage the safety before pulling the trigger. And don't point this thing at us—that's exactly how its previous owner met his end."
The moment his hands closed around the gun, the boy's eyes lit up with ecstatic brilliance; even the look in his eyes transformed.
And not just him.
The people peeking from the alleys underwent a similar shift. Their idle curiosity gradually curdled into shock, and then dread.
They had no idea what the Ratfolk kid had discussed with the soldiers; all they saw was him receiving a firearm from their hands...
What did this mean?
Had the brutes who had just thrashed the Governor become this brat's backing?
The survivors swallowed dryly. Some regretted not stepping forward themselves, while others merely stared at the gun in terror, inwardly lamenting the times they had bullied him and his family.
Ban Sui Cuo Tuo felt something was off, but remembering that this was the wasteland and hardly a civilized world, he kept his mouth shut.
Carefully tucking the gun away, Axin looked earnestly at the crouched man. "How should I address you?"
Before Yincha Yangcuo could answer, Mei You Jia Ren clapped him on the shoulder and said with a grin, "He's Yincha, I'm Jiaren, and the two behind us are Dengtian and Cuotuo. If you need anything, just look for either of us."
Yincha Yangcuo, who had been wracking his brain for a cooler moniker, rolled his eyes at the grinning rascal.
Too lazy to contest the nickname, he looked at the boy and said, "We'll be around here for the next few days. If we're not, ask around among the others; they'll help you find us."
Axin paused, then nodded solemnly. "Yincha, Jiaren, Dengtian, Cuotuo... I'll remember."
With that, he shoved the pistol into his waistband, spun around, and sprinted back toward the slums, looking like an entirely different person from the cowering wretch he had been moments ago.
Watching the boy's retreating figure vanish into the distance, Ban Sui Cuo Tuo said, "I don't think this is a good idea. There might be better ways."
Mei You Jia Ren smirked, slapping him on the shoulder. "Don't you think it's hilarious?"
Someone scraping by at the very bottom of the pyramid, bullied by everyone, suddenly getting a taste of power one day and flipping the tables to stand atop everyone's heads.
He was curious to see just how far this kid could go.
To someone like him who lived purely for the laughs, this was a fantastic specimen to observe.
Yi Bu Deng Tian, who hadn't uttered a word until now, nodded in profound agreement.
"+1."
...
Meanwhile, in the detention cells of the Port Guard Bureau, the handcuffed Governor Nihak was shoved along until he stumbled hard onto the cold concrete floor of a cell.
"Starting today, this is your new home, Mr. Nihak."
The exoskeleton-clad man at the doorway spoke in a mocking tone, then turned to Chief Bihari and the two guards standing nearby.
"Keep a close eye on him."
Having completely transitioned his mindset and embraced his new identity, Bihari immediately thumped his right fist over his chest, his back ramrod straight.
"Understood, sir!"
Fang Chang said nothing. He simply nodded and walked out the door.
He was busy right now.
Not only did he have to manage harbor affairs, but he also had to inventory and tally the spoils of war.
Stranded at the port were not just nobles of the Xilan Empire, but also itinerant merchants who had come from other regions to procure goods.
Their cargo and merchant ships were trapped at the docks, unable to leave. Some carried livestock, spices, dyes, linen, and the like, while others carried Brahma Province's specialty: human chattel.
Now that the Alliance had arrived, they naturally would not permit slave ships to depart. Soon, they would also dismantle several concentration camps in the settlement and declare that Alliance law would be enforced during the period of temporary military control.
Beyond that, imperial nobles attempting to slip away disguised as merchants required meticulous screening.
These people were hostages and bargaining chips for negotiations with the Empire; they couldn't be allowed to slip away so easily.
In short, a mountain of matters demanded attention. Until those troublesome chores were settled, Fang Chang had no time to waste on this fellow.
With that man's departure, silence fell inside and outside the cell.
Feeling three pairs of eyes staring straight through him, Governor Nihak felt cold sweat bead on his brow. Forcing a strained smile onto his face, he asked:
"Mr.... Bihari, what on earth is going on?"
"What's going on?"
Bihari narrowed his eyes slightly, looking the now-imprisoned governor up and down, a mocking lilt in his voice. "You're already sitting in here. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"
"Bihari! Mind your tone!" Nihak glared at the man looking down his nose at him, attempting to leverage his authority, only to find it completely powerless.
This fellow, who had groveled and flattered him relentlessly on ordinary days, looked like an entirely different person now, glaring back with a savage, malevolent snarl.
No—
He was hardly a person at all!
He was a bared-teeth bulldog!
Baring foul-smelling gums at his former master, furiously wagging his pathetic little tail to curry favor with the new one.
Tilting his head up arrogantly, Bihari looked down at the miserable wretch slumped on the cell floor, snapping unceremoniously:
"You're the one who needs to mind your tone, Nihak! Standing before you is the Chief of Police of Golden Gallon Port! Aside from the Alliance people and Alliance law, I'm the biggest boss here! If you don't want to suffer, tuck your tail between your legs and behave!"
Nihak stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes. "Are you mad?! Aren't you worried about what I'll do to you once I get out?!"
Hearing this, Bihari burst out laughing.
"Haha! Even if I showed you some courtesy, would you let me off the hook once you got out? Even if you were willing, would the others be? Besides, whether you ever walk out of here depends entirely on the mood of those lords."
Pausing, he added:
"And they promised to make me the Empire's Chief of Police. Wake up and smell the reality—the Empire is finished! Hahaha!"
Paying no heed to Governor Nihak's murderous glare, Bihari laughed heartily and strutted out of the lockup, leaving behind his two flunkies at the door.
"You bastard!"
Nihak lunged at the iron bars of the cell door, gripping them tightly with both hands as he roared at the guards outside.
"Let me out! You treacherous ingrates, do you know who I am?! I am the Governor here! The Governor of Golden Gallon Port! The Governor appointed personally by His Imperial Majesty!"
The two guards stood motionless, as if stone deaf.
"Stop yelling, it's useless. Do they look like they care?" A sigh drifted from the cell across the hall, cutting through his dog-like howling.
Panting heavily, Nihak only now noticed someone lying in the opposite cell—an acquaintance, no less.
His pupils shrank slightly, and his voice trembled:
"Dirang..."
"Long time no see, Governor." Seeing Nihak's wide eyes, Dirang chuckled self-deprecatingly and greeted him.
Nihak's Adam's apple bobbed. He squeezed out a sentence with great difficulty:
"What on earth happened? Weren't you supposed to be at Port French Fries? Why are you here?"
"What happened... Heh, I'd like to know that myself." Dirang stared with mixed feelings at the patch of sunlight slipping through the iron-barred window, feeling as though the past few days had been nothing but a surreal dream.
He was supposed to be on the beach at Port French Fries with his men, enjoying the sea breeze, eating fruit, and amusing himself at the expense of the imperial traitors. Instead, before he could even catch sight of the dock, mutants and the Alliance had taken turns slamming his head into the dirt. And now, he was tossed into a jail cell right here in Golden Gallon Port.
This was the most absurd part.
He had never imagined being locked up here; he had assumed the worst that could happen was being shipped off to Dawn City as a bargaining chip to squeeze Duke Garawa.
Not only did the Alliance arrest them on their own soil, but they also intended to put them on trial on their own soil. The sheer humiliation made him feel he would be better off dead.
"Just how many of them came..." Nihak asked tensely, staring at him.
Dirang answered dismissively, "Probably fewer than a thousand. From what I saw, around five or six hundred."
Hearing that, Nihak breathed a sigh of relief, a faint glimmer of secret joy even flickering across his face.
"Only five or six hundred... They won't last long! Golden Gallon Port's garrison numbers a full two thousand men, and there are nearly ten thousand reservists to draw upon! After what happened a month ago, I specifically purchased artillery. General Abinan will teach them an unforgettable lesson!"
Watching the man cling to his delusions, Dirang curled his lip in self-mockery.
"Keep dreaming. Those men are no match for them."
Nihak's expression froze. Forcing a dry chuckle, he said:
"Mr. Dirang, aren't you being overly pessimistic? No matter how you look at it, they only have five or six hundred men..."
"Do you know how many people captured us?"
Without waiting for the governor to guess—knowing full well he'd never guess right—Dirang answered his own question:
"Thirty... A mere thirty people captured us. I only found out later, and those weren't even their elites."
At the time, at least two hundred men had come ashore, yet the bastards on the beach had hammered them so thoroughly they couldn't even fight back.
What shattered him even more came afterward.
The mutants who had routed them were slaughtered like baby chicks before another group of men armored to the teeth in steel.
The two sides were simply not on the same level.
They should never have provoked this monster from the very beginning, let alone stuck their noses in while this monster was clashing with another beast.
Having heard Dirang's account, a smear of despair crept over Nihak's face, his voice trembling involuntarily.
"Do we really have no chance at all?"
"Who knows."
Dirang shook his head and sighed.
"Perhaps the great Emperor can devise some brilliant scheme, but crouched in here, you and I are completely powerless."
The Gray Wolf Corps stationed along the Yongliu River might be able to save them.
The problem now was that only His Majesty the Emperor could command those troops, and His Majesty might not even know what was happening.
While Governor Nihak and Dirang stared speechlessly through the iron bars, a dense, dark crowd had gathered before the security cordon of the port district.
Among them were merchants from Golden Gallon Port, traders from other lands, as well as shipowners, captains, and sailors from the cargo vessels tied up at the docks.
Last night, the master here had still been His Majesty the Emperor. Yet at first light, the twin-blade banner flying over the port had been torn down, and no new flag had been hoisted in its place.
Most of their life savings were tied up at the docks.
Watching the soldiers armed to the teeth with anxious trepidation, they were all waiting for an explanation...
Chapter 697