Mammoth City was situated on the eastern coast of Mammoth State, less than six hundred kilometers in a straight line from Silver Moon Bay, whereas the distance from Silver Moon Bay to Port Golden Gallon was three times that.
Although the Tasang River flowed swiftly and its basin was not as vast as that of the Everflowing River, it still nourished two or three states, encompassing twenty to thirty million people.
Blessed with such exceptional geographic advantages and located so close to a group of trade-savvy "cat lovers," the settlement's failure to ever truly develop was quite baffling.
The population of Mammoth State numbered at least ten million, yet Mammoth City—its sole major settlement—held only about eight hundred thousand.
Port Golden Gallon's prior poverty had been the Empire's doing, but the destitution here could hardly be blamed on the imperial court.
After all, imperial control over the region had always remained nebulous. While nominally imperial territory inhabited by the Empire's nobles and subjects, the lack of road networks and river transport links meant that Tiandu itself often forgot the land even existed.
In other words, local autonomy had always been very high. Only on rare occasions did Wutuo ever remember to bother with it.
Addressing this phenomenon, Ms. Han Mingyue, a social science researcher with the Alliance Scientific Expedition, had conducted an investigation. Her preliminary conclusion was that the institution of serfdom kept a portion of the population penned inside aristocratic estates, hindering Mammoth City's "urbanization" process.
Another factor was Mammoth State's abysmal "infrastructure connectivity." Harvested crops could not be shipped out, nor could outside goods be brought in. Yeoman farmers only needed to produce enough food for their own consumption, with no need for trade, and thus had no reason to congregate in cities.
The second problem could not be solved in a day or two, but Lord Laxi had swiftly and decisively hacked through the first.
The aristocratic estates were all scattered along the Tasang River, and even the embankment used for flood prevention and irrigation had been funded and built by those noble lords.
If that embankment were blown up, wouldn't the problem be solved?
Now, the lands in the noble lords' hands and the local forces they maintained were all soaking together in the overflowing deluge.
Even if the serfs had not wanted to flee the estates, they had no choice now but to surge into the ranks of refugees...
...
Outside Mammoth City.
The flood that had suddenly burst from the riverbed not only battered down the wooden palisade outside the settlement, but had also washed away the villages clinging right beside it.
Over the past two days, the weather had finally improved, and the floodwaters had at last receded. The villagers who had taken shelter in the mountain forests returned to their homes carrying bundles and bags.
Yet upon seeing the state of their households, every single one fell silent. Their eyes glazed over as they stared at collapsed wooden shacks, ruined fences, and missing livestock. For a long time, not a soul knew what to do.
Gradually, reality seemed to sink in.
Some began shuffling their feet, trudging numbly toward their collapsed dwellings to salvage whatever might still be usable—whatever had not already been picked over by earlier scavengers—so they could at least help their families scrape through the day.
Others wandered about, either sifting silently through the rubble or stopping everyone they met to ask if they had seen their families.
Yet everyone knew it was futile.
"Mother! Father! Where are you?"
Beside a collapsed wooden cabin, a child of thirteen or fourteen stood all alone, staring blankly in one direction, occasionally letting out a shout.
His voice was weak and frail, his throat nearly hoarse, yet no one paid him any mind until a group of men with white bandages wrapped around their arms approached.
With an LD-47 rifle slung over his back, its strap pulled tight against his shoulder, Akeman stopped beside the child and sized him up.
The boy looked somewhat like he himself had a month ago—orphaned, terrified... He had to be the kind of person Laxi was looking for.
Cutting straight to the chase, Akeman asked, "Your name?"
The boy stared blankly at the fierce-looking figure before him, then glanced at the armed men, his lips parting instinctively.
"Wudi."
Akeman pressed on. "What are you doing?"
"I'm looking for my mother... She seems to have been swept away."
Wudi spoke in a small voice, looking at them with a glimmer of hope that they might lead him to his family.
Yet to his disappointment—and utter despair—the youth before him, who was barely older than himself, offered no such comfort.
"She's gone." Akeman took a captured Ripper rifle and shoved it straight into the boy's hands, eyeing him. "Know how to use it?"
The boy stared blankly at the rifle, then looked back at him, completely at a loss.
Akeman patted his shoulder.
"It doesn't matter if you don't. I'll teach you. From now on, you're my soldier."
"B-but... I have to wait for my mother to come back." Terrified, Wudi took a step back, but a hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"I told you, she's gone. Your father, your brothers and sisters—gone too. If they were still alive, would they have left you behind like this?"
Seeing the child fall silent, Akeman gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before releasing him.
"Everyone faces this day eventually. What you're going through, I went through too. Until a man grabbed me by the collar and told me that as long as the Empire rules this land, what happened to me will happen again and again. Everyone around me will go through it over and over—unless we send those nobles to the gallows and slaughter every last person who ever enslaved us."
"...It's the Empire," the boy murmured. His breathing grew rapid, his eyes turned bloodshot, and his hands gripped the Ripper rifle tightly.
Seeing the boy fight back his tears, Akeman gave him an approving pat on the back of the head and pulled him to his side.
"That's right. Follow me."
...
Just as the villagers outside Mammoth City had no idea what had happened, the survivors inside were equally in the dark.
Most people had barely finished a yawn before hearing someone scream, "The water's here!" Then the deluge swallowed everything.
The first thing to collapse was the palisade ringing the settlement.
That wall had only been meant to keep out wild boars, wolves, and crocodiles; against the fury of the Tasang River, it was utterly useless.
Next came the ramshackle shanties and the brick houses built directly on mud. The former were swept away in the initial surge, while the latter collapsed outright after soaking in the river water that flooded the streets.
Apart from the wealthier nobles, the only structures to escape destruction were the church of the Church of the Silver Moon and a few houses belonging to merchants from Silver Moon Bay.
Accustomed to building practices in Sunset Province, they made a habit of laying deep foundations beneath their buildings so they could sleep in peace.
Even so, seeing the entire city drowned while their own homes remained unscathed, the Silver Moon Bay merchants dared not linger. Gathering their valuables, they boarded boats and fled. Only a handful of fearless missionaries stubbornly stayed behind in their church.
The very first thing Laxi did upon entering the city was dispatch a company to the church beside the fishing docks, placing the clergy there under protection.
It was not because he believed the nonsense about how "the Moon Clan's Moon God and the Church of the Silver Moon's Goddess of the Silver Moon share the same roots," but purely because the development of Mammoth State required those wealthy zealots.
Whether he believed in it or not, he at least had to put on a show of respecting their faith.
As for himself, he led his men straight into the city lord's mansion, turning it into the Resistance headquarters. While dispatching his subordinates to carry out disaster relief, he directed his trusted lieutenants to "invite" the local gentry and nobility over.
Seated in the city lord's chair, Laxi rested a combat boot on his opposite knee, gazing down with undisguised contempt at the trembling dignitaries bowing their heads before him.
"I don't give a damn what titles used to hang over your heads. Starting today, anyone who dares put on airs of a noble lord in front of me will have that titled head chopped right off!"
The room fell dead silent. Everyone felt as though they were standing at the gates of hell, flanked by two-headed hounds staring them down. Not a soul dared speak; their knees went weak, yet they feared even kneeling.
Seeing no objections, Laxi cleared his throat and continued.
"I came here to do three things, but you only need to know one.
"From this day forward, slavery is abolished in Mammoth State. Whoever dares keep a single slave, I'll move their head to a different spot!"
His voice was neither loud nor soft, yet it echoed like a thunderclap in the ears of every noble present.
Looking out over the hushed mansion, Laxi saw no one answering. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his tone suddenly turned into a sharp bark.
"Did you hear me?! Speak!"
Startled by the roar, the nobles could no longer hold back their terror and collapsed to their knees with a chorus of thuds.
"Yes, yes! My lord!"
"I—I'll go home right away and free all my slaves!"
"We wouldn't dare do it again!"
"We... we never wanted to mistreat the Moon Clan either... It was His Majesty... Bah! It was all that Wutuo's orders! We were forced into it..."
The Moon Clan, after all, had been the nobility of the previous dynasty. While not every Moon Clan member had been highborn, their general standard of living had once been far above that of the serpentine, vermin, insect, and avian races, and their literacy rates were notably high. Consequently, handsome men and refined beauties were common among them.
Following His Majesty's decree reducing all Moon Clan people across the Empire to slaves, these nobles had certainly taken advantage of the turmoil to collect "pretty canaries" to keep as playthings in their estates.
These were facts they could never wash clean; asking anyone on the streets would reveal the truth.
Laxi glared down at them with a sneer. "I'm not just talking about the Moon Clan, you bastards. Slaves of any clan are forbidden. Starting today, Mammoth State is about equality!"
Ignoring the bewildered looks on the kneeling nobles' faces, he added leisurely, "Besides, I told you no kneeling."
With that, he waved his hand.
"Drag them out. Give each of them ten lashes before they go."
"Yes, sir!"
The personal guards standing nearby received the command, their eyes gleaming with ferocity. Striding forward, they dragged the limp nobles toward the courtyard like trussed chickens.
They had longed for this moment.
Had it not been for military discipline, they never would have allowed these imperial lapdogs to walk into the mansion on their own two feet.
Taking the whips, the guards put their full strength into every swing.
The wails of the nobles and the crack of whips rose and fell across the open courtyard, spattering the ground with blood.
Watching the nobles get whipped, the elder members of the Resistance felt a slight unease, yet under Laxi's formidable presence, none of them said a word.
Though Laxi preached equality, this forced equality was somewhat different from what they had envisioned.
They had always felt there was a better way, much like what the Alliance had done in Port Golden Gallon—using gentler methods to drive reform in Mammoth City.
Yet thinking about it now was pointless.
The Resistance was no longer the force of two thousand it had been earlier; it was rapidly closing in on ten thousand.
Laxi's prestige within the army was soaring by the day, and nearly all the young men regarded him as their spiritual leader and role model.
Even if the elders wanted to replace him, the chance was long gone...
...
*Splash—*
The unconscious Governor Bamute was jolted awake by a bucket of cold water.
When he lifted his dripping head, he found that General Daxina and the other officers were nowhere to be seen. In their place stood an officer radiating a thuggish aura, flanked by several youths with wolfish eyes.
Those murderous glares caused cold sweat to instantly break out across his brow, jolting him fully awake.
Muddled memories gradually trickled back into his mind. He vaguely recalled clinging to a crooked tree as the floodwaters surged, violently kicking unconscious the guard clutching his leg, wrapping his sleeve around a branch, and soaking in the muddy water until he blacked out.
Later, a raft had approached, and several men with white armbands had seized him by the arms, dragging him aboard.
After that, he had lost consciousness again.
As for his current situation, there was no need to ask; judging by his surroundings, he was clearly in a cell beneath Mammoth City.
He had been captured.
"*Cough*... I will pay a ransom..." Before he could even reflect on how he had lost, Bamute coughed and rushed out his words. "According to the sacred covenants, you must guarantee my daily meals and personal safety. Naturally, I will cooperate as much as possible..."
The youths chuckled, visibly amused, treating his words as a joke.
A flash of irritation crossed Bamute's eyes, but he dared not make a move with his clenched fists. Instead, he glared at the officer with hollow bravado, attempting to cow him with aristocratic dignity—only to receive a stinging slap across the face.
The slap left him dazed, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"You! You dare strike me—"
"Speak!" the officer roared, cutting him off mid-sentence.
Startled by the shout, Bamute's tone softened unconsciously. His noble airs evaporated, leaving him cowering like a cornered rat.
"Sp-speak? Speak about what?"
The officer did not ask anything. He merely stared at him for a moment before letting out a cold sneer and speaking languidly.
"Still playing tough, are you? Beat him!"
Bamute's mind went blank. *What?!*
Before he could comprehend what was happening, a sharp whistle cut through the air, followed immediately by a lash cracking across his face.
The whip had likely been soaked in brine. A shrill scream tore from his throat, and the agony nearly knocked him unconscious all over again. He tried to shield his head with his arms, only to realize his hands were tied securely behind the back of the chair, leaving him completely unable to budge.
Having spent his entire life as a master who only ever whipped others, he had never felt the sting of a lash himself. The sudden onslaught brought tears and snot streaming down his face, and he wailed pitifully for mercy, looking utterly pathetic.
Yet the soldiers cared nothing for his titles, mercilessly laying into him with their weapons.
"I... I'll speak..."
Hearing that feeble voice, the officer raised a hand. The youth holding the whip finally halted, stepping aside while glaring murderously at Bamute.
Slumped and half-dead, Governor Bamute panted for a long while before squeezing out a faint sentence.
"Wait a moment... Do you... do you know who I am...?"
The men exchanged glances, derisive smirks spreading across their faces.
What kind of hour was it?
This fool was still dreaming.
Amused by the senseless question, the officer stepped over, gripped Bamute's chin, and tilted it upward, offering him an amiable smile.
Yet to Bamute, that smile looked anything but amiable—it resembled a demon from hell, scaring the words right back down his throat so that he dared not make another peep.
"Who are you? Hah. Let alone a fucking duke, even if Wutuo himself showed up here, I could make him grovel like a dog, begging for death yet denied it."
Hearing such blasphemous words, Bamute's eyes bulged, the whites shot through with broken vessels. There was no fury left in them—only profound terror.
At this moment, he finally recognized the reality before him and understood his predicament.
These Moon Clan rebels had no intention of demanding a ransom, nor did they care about one. All they wanted was to exact retribution on an imperial noble for the suffering they had endured.
He now bitterly regretted not striking harder before.
He had allowed these Moon Clan wretches to escape to the banks of the Tasang River, where they had blown up the embankment.
Now, not only was he suffering, but so were the estates along the river.
Mammoth State was already impoverished; now, it wouldn't even have grain left...
The officer wasted no more breath. Seeing that the man was fully awake, he spoke.
"I'll ask you a question. All you need to say is yes."
"Y-yes..." Daring no defiance, Bamute answered feebly.
The officer continued, "Did you blow up the Tasang River embankment?"
The word "yes" was on the verge of spilling from his lips when Bamute broke into a cold sweat, his mind snapping awake. He stammered frantically, "N-no! No... My lord, how could it possibly be me—"
The officer raised a hand to cut him off, glaring down at him coldly.
"What did I just say?"
That stare made Bamute feel as if he had plunged into a frozen abyss, and he forgot how to breathe.
"It seems you still haven't learned your lesson. I'll come back and ask you later."
The officer chuckled, rose from his chair, and waved to the sharp-eyed young soldiers beside him, dropping a single crisp order.
"Don't kill him."
The soldiers' eyes gleamed with malice, and their response was resoundingly firm.
"Yes, sir!"
...
The heavy door of the cell slammed shut, yet its finger-thick planks could not stifle the agonized shrieks within.
The officer paid no attention, walking outside with an expressionless face. Spotting Laxi standing at the prison entrance, he snapped a crisp military salute.
Looking at his arriving confidant, Laxi returned the salute and asked casually, "How's it going?"
The man's name was Shawa, whom Laxi had appointed commander of the Stormtroopers.
The so-called Stormtroopers were a separate unit directly loyal to him, distinct from his personal guards.
Moreover, they were a combat outfit tasked primarily with special operations.
Their missions included infiltration, sabotage, assassinating key enemy personnel, and purging internal dissent.
Most members of this unit were youths between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, particularly young men of the Moon Clan.
Nearly all came from slave backgrounds, had no living parents, and were fiercely loyal to Laxi himself.
Laxi treated them generously in return. Not only were they equipped with Alliance-made LD-47 assault rifles, but they also possessed a small number of ballistic chest rigs and even exoskeletons, being groomed as reserve junior officers.
He had established this unit partly because the Moon Clan Resistance genuinely needed such capabilities, and partly to emulate the Alliance's Administrator.
Most people in Port Golden Gallon copied things from the Alliance, consciously or unconsciously, and he was no exception.
Back when he was still head of the militia, he had heard that the Alliance's Administrator commanded a Guards Corps. Ever since then, he had been mulling over creating a similar unit of his own.
Now that he had resigned to lead the guerrillas, he had the freedom to put all his ideas into action.
A phantom-like force served as a powerful deterrent against both external enemies and internal dissenters alike.
Though this Stormtrooper unit was only the size of a single battalion, its firepower rivaled an imperial regiment. The recent demolition of the Tasang River embankment had been entirely their handiwork.
Of course, they had no intention of swallowing that blame themselves.
From the very beginning, Laxi had planned to pinch the imperial nobles' noses and force that foul concoction straight down their throats.
"...He hasn't confessed yet, but it won't be long." Hearing his commander's inquiry, Shawa grinned disdainfully. "Imperial nobles are all spineless cowards—the higher their rank, the softer their knees. I barely touched his face and he pissed his pants."
What a pathetic creature.
Shawa had once been hung outside the gates of Camp Lowell for three days and three nights, scorched by the sun until he had only half a breath left, yet he had never begged for mercy.
Later, when he followed Laxi to take Camp Lowell, he had personally hanged the warden from the watchtower, avenging the ruin of his family.
He still remembered Laxi pointing at the warden dangling from the tower, declaring that one day he would hang every noble in the Empire.
From that moment on, Shawa had resolved to follow the man before him.
Whether Sun Clan nobility or Mammoth Clan nobility, they were all imperial nobles.
Their persecution of the Moon Clan was identical; none of their estates lacked Moon Clan slaves.
In their eyes, the Moon Clan were no better than livestock in a pen, so Shawa saw no reason to show them any courtesy.
Besides, compared to the horrors he had endured at Camp Lowell, a few floggings were far too merciful for an imperial noble.
Laxi nodded impassively and asked, "Has Daxina been found?"
That man was the supreme commander of the Mammoth State local army.
Originally, they had planned to pin the blame on him, but the man had slipped away surprisingly fast. Whether he had been swept away by the flood or had fled into hiding remained unknown; at any rate, they had not caught him.
Making Bamute the scapegoat was somewhat of a stretch. After all, the man was a grand noble who held considerable land along the Tasang River.
By contrast, pinning it on Daxina was far more plausible:
*An incompetent general misjudged the swift currents of the Tasang River and blew up the embankment to drown the Moon Clan cornered by the water, only for his clever scheme to backfire and cost him his own life.*
That story was at least logically sound.
Shawa shook his head.
"Not yet, but he can't have gotten far. His formation has already been shattered."
Though failing to find him was an annoyance, Laxi did not dwell on it, offering only a concise instruction.
"Keep looking."
Pausing, he added, "Also, send letters to the Assassin Gang and the Federation. First, inform them of the establishment of the new authority in Mammoth State and share news of our victory. Then mention the disaster and lower our posture to ask if they have any surplus grain. If they can lend us a hand, the residents of Mammoth State will be immensely grateful."
Those people would certainly help.
He was sure of it.
"Yes, sir!" Shawa's expression tightened. Snapping to attention with a salute, he turned and departed.
Watching his confidant leave, Laxi turned in the opposite direction and walked out of Mammoth City's prison alongside his personal guards.
Bamute was merely an explanation to offer the local survivors; when to present him mattered little, and there was no rush.
The urgent task at hand was establishing the new authority.
Otherwise, just as the officers of the Fierce Tiger Army mocked behind closed doors, bandits would forever remain bandits, never amounting to anything.
The unexpected scale of the flood had presented him with a golden opportunity.
When he entered the city under the banner of disaster relief, he had taken control of Mammoth City almost effortlessly.
From local gentry and ruffians to wealthy merchants, and even the whipped nobles, not a single person dared resist. All had responded to the Resistance's call, dispersing their household slaves and resolutely endorsing every decision of the new authority.
Partly, it was because the disaster was so severe that they genuinely could no longer afford to feed those slaves.
More importantly, every one of them understood that a massive horde of refugees, like a swarm of locusts, was descending upon them.
Among them were serfs who had fled the noble estates, as well as freemen who had lost their homes.
Whatever their past identities, starving men were all the same—far more terrifying than a band of rough-looking Resistance fighters.
The handful of private guards the nobles maintained could never hold off such a mob. Without a formidable military force to protect Mammoth City, the refugees would devour them down to the bone in minutes.
Bamute and his local forces were finished. The local elites had no choice but to pledge loyalty to their new master—and cling tightly to his coattails.
Laxi was certain that even if he plundered the entire city bare, not a single person would dare raise an objection.
Naturally, he would not commit such a thankless stupidity.
Mammoth City might have "City" in its name, but it was as poor as a sprawling village. Even the grandest nobles possessed little real wealth, bearing no comparison to Port Golden Gallon with its Kelaba Market.
Pillaging would yield very little, while tarnishing the Federation's impression of him. Besides, this was now his own territory—why would anyone rob themselves?
He had three main objectives to accomplish here.
The first was the abolition of slavery!
Only by abolishing slavery could compulsory education be introduced and the productive forces of Mammoth State be unleashed!
The second was to seize the land held by local pro-imperial nobles, taking advantage of Bamute's defeat and the unprecedented weakening of their faction!
Thanks to the flood, neither task would require much effort.
The nobles' estates were almost all situated along the river, where the most fertile lands had long been enclosed by them.
Now, those estates had suffered the heaviest damage. The serfs who had failed to escape had largely drowned within them, and the value of the land had plummeted to nothing. With just a little pressure from the new authority, the land could easily be seized without much bloodshed.
A portion of these lands could be used to establish large state-run farms, while the remainder could be distributed to peasants and soldiers.
As for the final objective, it was the most critical of the three.
Mammoth State was an agricultural province. Bullets and rifles could not be harvested from fields; escaping poverty required industrial development, and developing industry required foreign exchange.
He had read every issue of the *Survivor Daily* closely. While he lacked a systematic understanding of industrial development, he had at least formed a general concept.
Port Golden Gallon's industrial takeoff had largely stemmed from taking over the Alliance's phased-out, low-end industrial capacity. By leveraging its advantages in population and raw material costs, it had given that outdated capacity a second life on the soil of Brahma Province, later riding the wave of the new wasteland order established by the Commonwealth.
Though Mammoth State was getting a slightly late start, it was by no means devoid of opportunity.
The civil war in the Southern Sea had just concluded, leaving the northern islands in dire need of reconstruction. The vast infrastructure market stood in sharp contrast to the massive labor shortage.
Rumor had it that local construction outfits were paying in silver coins!
Mammoth City had eight hundred thousand people, and Mammoth State as a whole had over ten million. At this moment, the one thing Laxi did not lack was people—especially destitute folk who could no longer survive on their own.
Though the slave trade was banned, a certain gang member operating in the shadows had already provided him with an excellent practical demonstration.
There were plenty of ways to make money off people.
Beyond simple "labor recruitment," there was always "labor dispatch"...
Chapter 778