Rivers of Blood

Raging flames climbed the wooden eaves, illuminating dazed, terrified faces. The billowing black smoke drifted like homeless ghosts, while the crackling roar of the blaze and the sobbing of the crowd sounded stark against the stunned silence. This was the southwestern corner of Mammoth State, a small hamlet named "Shitou Village"—or rather, that was what it used to be called. Most of the people living here were freemen of the Empire. Yet unlike other parts of the wasteland, being a freeman here was nothing to be proud of. Because the fertile lands along the rivers were mostly monopolized by the nobility, most freemen lived on the verge of starvation even if they had plots to farm. If ordinary serfs had to eat red mud six times a week, a freeman might have to choke down seven or eight meals of it, barely hovering in a half-dead state. Of course, those who managed to survive within or right beside the major settlements were exceptions. Shitou Village was no different. Far from the Tasang River and without any streams or lakes nearby, the land was difficult to cultivate, and most villagers could barely scrape together enough food to stave off starvation. People who lived like weeds yielded practically no profit to squeeze, so the Empire usually couldn't be bothered with them. Apart from collecting taxes, it left them to fend for themselves. Of course, that bestowed mercy only applied during ordinary times. Walking five or six li south from Shitou Village would bring one to the boundary marker of Ma State. Yet it was precisely those five or six li of fate that brought the flames of the "scorched-earth" policy raging right to their doorstep... At the entrance to Shitou Village, a man past fifty sat slumped on the ground, looking up at a towering centurion with tears and snot streaming down his face. "My lord, we've lived here for so many years! If you burn it to the ground, where... where are we supposed to live?" The centurion stared at him impassively and said coldly, "Ma State is right next door, and Tiger State is further south. You have your own legs. As long as you don't head north, go wherever the hell you want." "B-But... without land, how are we supposed to survive?" the old man pleaded bitterly. "How will you survive?" The centurion let out a cold sneer, looking down at the old wretch on the ground with dripping mockery. "Just go sell yourself to some manor... Stop your damn bawling. You're an old bastard anyway—one foot's already in the grave." Seeing the old man stare blankly at him, the centurion realized his words were somewhat unseemly, so he softened his tone slightly. "All right, bandits are running rampant here. Making you leave is for your own good, so don't be ungrateful. I gave you time to pack your things. If you're done, get the hell out." "Bandits?! B-But those Moon Clan folks didn't bother us at all..." Seeing the centurion turn to leave, the panicked old man blurted out the first words that came to his head, entirely forgetting the rank of the officer before him and what the Moon Clan meant to the Empire. Hearing that, the centurion halted in his tracks. He squinted at the old man, his gaze turning sinister. "They were here?" Not only did the centurion narrow his eyes at the old man, but the soldiers nearby also placed their hands on their Ripper rifles. Sensing the shift in the air, the terrified old man began to stammer. "I..." "Why didn't you report to the nearby outpost?" the centurion pressed. "Wh-What outpost?" Beads of sweat the size of beans broke out on the old man's forehead. Before he could explain, the centurion waved to his soldiers. "Take him back for interrogation." Two soldiers strode forward, each grabbing one of the old man's arms. Ignoring his pig-sticking screams, they hauled him onto a handcart like a slaughtered beast. The young men of the village moved to intervene, but the soldiers' murderous glares froze them in their tracks. They could only watch helplessly as the village elder was hauled away... Similar scenes were unfolding not just in Shitou Village, but across the entire region—often far worse. Over fifty thousand troops of the Gray Wolf Army marched into rebel-occupied Mammoth State with thunderous momentum, bent on wiping out their past humiliation from top to bottom. Alaiyang dispatched scouts to track the resistance's movements while steadily spreading his battle lines, all while sending small detachments along the border to push forward his scorched-earth strategy. It wasn't just old men suspected of contact with the resistance who were dragged off. Men, women, and children who had no idea what was happening were seized, along with livestock from the barns. The imperial soldiers didn't even spare the eggs laid by the hens. Of course, not every village was so meek and obedient. Given the brutal realities of Brahma Province, standing up to noble land grabs required some backbone and skill. Incensed youths brought out pitchforks, bows, fowling pieces, and even crude cannons, attempting to resist the Empire's Gray Wolf Army. Yet their righteous fury did not deter the imperial wolves; it only brought doom upon themselves and their families. Although the Gray Wolf Army had nearly been drowned in the Everflowing River outside Golden Gallon Port by the Alliance, handling a bunch of half-naked paupers was trivial for them. With a single charge, the soldiers slaughtered these reckless, weed-like rabble until rivers of blood flowed. And once blood stained their bayonets, things were hard to contain. What was worse, the Gray Wolf Army had already been thoroughly corrupted by the Tiger Army and the Black Panther Army; their fighting will and discipline were far inferior to what they were six months ago—though they hadn't been particularly disciplined back then either. After venting their animal lust on the surviving weaklings, the satisfied wolves pulled up their pants and gave the "captives" a quick death. They tossed the severed heads onto carts, claiming them as rebel heads to take back to camp for credit. Along the hundreds of kilometers of border between Mammoth State and Ma State, roaring fires coiled like crawling serpents, swallowing village after village. Their beastly atrocities were no different from the howling wolves and wailing ghosts of Ten Peaks Mountain—if anything, they were far worse... "...Those beasts!" At the edge of the dark forest, Akeman stared at the soldiers departing from the ruins, rage blazing in his eyes. When that long-haired woman had been dragged into the cowshed, he had thought of his own mother... The soldiers beside him felt the same way. Every man gripped his rifle with white knuckles, itching to charge out and tear that century to pieces. Especially the youth named Udi—if his companion hadn't held him back, he would have already rushed forward. "There are too many of them... We're only ten men. We're no match for them." Taking a deep breath to calm down, Akeman said in a low voice, "Laxi told us: if we want to defeat an enemy much stronger than us, having the guts to die isn't enough. We have to learn to use our heads." A freckled, tall youth looked at him and asked in a low whisper, "What should we do?" "Take Udi, and you, and you..." Akeman counted out five local recruits and entrusted them to this veteran who had fought all the way from Tiger State. Keeping his voice down, he instructed, "Head north. Tell the villagers what happened here. Tell them the Empire is coming, killing everyone in sight, and if they don't want to die, they need to run north immediately." "It won't do them any good to go there," Udi interjected in a whisper. "That whole area is flooded..." "It's only flooded temporarily. The flood season is over, and winter is right around the corner... Come spring, the inundated soil will be the most fertile land around. Master Laxi will divide the nobles' land and give it to them to farm," Akeman replied without hesitation. Those lands along the Tasang River that once belonged to the nobility had already been seized and consolidated. Once the waters receded, they could be used to resettle these displaced villagers. That land was far more fertile than this area, and Laxi had promised to distribute a portion to the locals. Mammoth State was now the resistance's territory, and they needed to develop and govern it well. His eyes lit up at the mention of dividing up land, as did Udi's. Udi's village lay outside Mammoth City, where every inch belonged to the nobility. His parents had farmed for nobles their whole lives without ever owning a plot of their own. Now someone was willing to distribute noble manors and plantations to them—they were so thrilled they almost cheered aloud. Only a few veterans from Tiger State smiled at their naivety. Farming? There was no future in that. They had suffered enough farming in the ravines of Tiger State. The only time they had ever lived well was when they picked up rifles. The freckled youth frowned slightly, looking at Akeman. "Why would those villagers believe us?" "Go scavenge some things from the ruins to show them. Whether they believe it or not is up to them; we can only save those who can be saved." Akeman pointed toward the village ruins nearby, gesturing for him to gather physical proof, then lowered his voice further. "That should be all the villages they hit today. The wolves don't dare march at night, but there's no telling what they'll do once dawn breaks. You'd better move fast and get everything done before sunrise... Remember, notify every village within half a day's march!" The six youths nodded solemnly, slipped into the bushes, crept toward the village, and vanished in an instant. As for Akeman, he took the remaining three men and shadowed the retreating Gray Wolf century, attempting to locate their regiment headquarters. With any luck, maybe they could find a chance to drop a few artillery shells on them! *** Meanwhile, at the Gray Wolf Army headquarters, General Alaiyang stared impassively at the sandbox, his thoughts drifting along with the markers on the terrain. He still remembered that at the start of the year, he had been a god of war revered by tens of thousands. Yet in a mere six months, those same worshippers had branded him the Empire's disgrace, stomping him deep into the sewer. The higher they had hoisted him then, the harder they had dashed him down. But it was precisely because of that ordeal that he had awakened completely: These unruly wretches were unworthy of his sympathy. He should never have treated them as human beings in the first place—not that he had ever cared much for them before. Even today, he could not forget the humiliation he had suffered at Golden Gallon Port. Those treacherous paupers had murdered his scouts and sold his intelligence for a few silver coins, and deliberately dug trenches like graves, making them so deep his soldiers couldn't reach over the rim even with both arms stretched above their heads. And the reed marshes along the Everflowing River. Those bastards would rather catch bullets and drown as bloated corpses to become the Alliance's dogs than stay in the Empire and live as proper men. He knew better than anyone that once his scorched-earth order was issued, his subordinates would run amok using their "own methods." But so what? Rather than leaving these swine on the front lines to drag their feet and commit sabotage, it was better to use their blood to terrify anyone who dared oppose the Empire. Just then, the officer responsible for the scorched-earth operations entered the tent. Saluting General Alaiyang respectfully before the map, he reported, "My lord, the Moon Clan Resistance has almost certainly been through here." "Of course they would come; that's hardly surprising. In a bit, conduct an audit. Anyone with relatives in the resistance—distant or close—pull them out and form them into a separate unit. I'll have a use for them." Staring at Mammoth City on the map, Alaiyang continued expressionlessly, "That Laxi is an officer trained by the Alliance, and the men who left Golden Gallon Port with him were also Alliance-trained. What they're best at is infiltration, encirclement, dispersing into small cells, and fighting outnumbered... Back in Sunset Province and River Valley Province, they made the Wilante suffer plenty with those tricks." The officer's expression tightened. "If that's true, this campaign might not be an easy one." "Might not be?" Alaiyang scoffed, curling his lip. "Don't count on a quick victory. Completely wiping them out will take at least three or four months. If they want to wage guerrilla warfare, let them. We'll set up our battle lines—" Before his words had finished, an explosion thundered in the distance. Both men in the tent froze. Alaiyang's face was the first to change; he dashed outside and stared in the direction of the blast. The officer rushed out right behind him, just as a second distant blast rang out. His expression shifted, and he stammered, "155-millimeter!" The Alliance's 155s! That weapon had left an indelible mark on him; he would never forget the feeling of his skull buzzing from the concussions for the rest of his life. "No shit, Sherlock..." Alaiyang cursed under his breath, ripped the walkie-talkie off his shoulder, and began roaring into it. Those first few shells were only spotting rounds! Near the shelled unit, there were definitely guerrilla scouts and radio transmitters calling in adjustments! And indeed, it was just as Alaiyang suspected. Soon, a tempest of artillery erupted across the positions of the 7th Millennium of the 1st Myriad, dealing a heavy blow to the Gray Wolf Army's sky-high morale. Because the artillery shelters were poorly constructed, the entire millennium suffered devastating casualties; only sixty percent escaped the trenches, rescued by the 6th Millennium rushing to reinforce them. The first clash between the Gray Wolf Army and the Moon Clan Resistance ended in a minor victory for the latter, but the outcome of a single skirmish was far from enough to reverse their overall disadvantage. The disparity in numbers remained immense. Alaiyang commanded a formidable force of fifty thousand men—an elite army outfitted with Wilante weaponry, trained under none other than General MacLaren, a famed commander of the Eastern Legion. As for Laxi, although he had wiped out the Mammoth State local army by cleverly flooding the plains, allowing the resistance to face the Gray Wolf Army's offensive intact, his total usable forces barely exceeded twenty thousand, more than half of whom were raw recruits. Though the residents of Golden Gallon Port and Port French Fries had donated tens of millions of silver coins to fund the Moon Clan Resistance, unless they could secure victory on the battlefield, all their ideals would remain nothing more than empty dreams... *** Golden Gallon Port, passenger terminal waiting hall. Qian Duo, visiting from Dawn City, was browsing the copy of *Survivor Daily* in his hands with great interest. The *Survivor Daily* here was completely different from the Dawn City edition; it primarily covered local news of interest, giving only passing mentions to the war in Haiya Province or events in River Valley Province. As for today, almost every newspaper in Golden Gallon Port was focused on the front lines in Mammoth State. ["...Both Witnesses and Material Evidence Present! The Shameless Butcher Alaiyang!"] ["Roger, Secretary-General of the Golden Gallon Port Federation, Strongly Condemns Barbaric Atrocities of Imperial Gray Wolf Army; 100,000 Survivors Protest Repatriation of POWs!"] ["Governor's Secretary-General Yodu, Long Reluctant to Comment on Imperial Affairs, Makes Rare Statement Denouncing Imperial Crimes: 'The Tragedy at Shitou Village Is Not Alone; God Knows How Many More Are Happening Beyond Our Sight!'"] ["An Anonymous Language Teacher from the Southern Sea Expresses Shock in Interview: 'A Disgrace! I Will Write to My Family and Friends on Ring Island, and I Will Petition the Representative Council! The Survivors of the Southern Sea Will Never Cooperate with Man-Eating Monsters!'"] "Over a hundred villages burned, over a hundred thousand survivors displaced, countless dead along the migration path... Tsk, tsk. These Xilanese are ruthless enough toward their own kind." Looking at the shocking photographs, Qian Duo clicked his tongue, but after doing so, he simply turned the page. Mammoth State was where he was heading; he was waiting for a flight departing in an hour. But honestly, seeing how brutal the war was, he felt a little uneasy. A hundred thousand people... How many hundred thousand were in Dawn City these days? Three hundred thousand? Or five hundred thousand? If floating population was factored in, it was truly hard to say. Beside him, Han Long lifted his eyelids and remarked casually, "Were the Bone Chewers not ruthless, or the mutants of Jinchuan Province not ruthless? You're making a fuss over nothing." "Haha, that's true... Still, fifty thousand regulars against twenty thousand irregulars—if the Alliance doesn't step in, I bet this Laxi is finished," Qian Duo laughed, casually remarking as he looked at the force comparison on the next page. "If the Alliance steps in, the Legion will probably be forced to enter the fray as well. Mm... it really is tricky," Han Long chimed in thoughtfully. Just then, an unfamiliar voice came from beside them. "He won't be finished." Han Long ignored it, but Qian Duo turned with interest toward the man who had chimed in. He saw a gentlemanly, mild-mannered man. He had the bearing of someone of high status, yet his clothes were unassuming and inexpensive. A rather large suitcase sat by his feet, suggesting he was traveling far. Curious about a local's perspective, Qian Duo asked, "Oh? You think he can win even without the Alliance stepping in?" Zayed smiled faintly and said in a soft voice, "That depends on how you define winning. If the goal is defeating Alaiyang, that's well within his grasp. But if the goal is realizing the Federation's platform, he has no chance at all." Qian Duo chuckled. "That's an interesting take. My view is quite the opposite. If the Gray Wolf Army loses again, the Empire will never turn things around. Its collapse will only be a matter of time." Zayed shook his head and said methodically, "Our points don't actually conflict. But the 'collapse of the Empire' and the 'realization of the Federation's platform' are two entirely different matters." Qian Duo grew increasingly intrigued by the man and smiled. "Are you saying Laxi wants to become emperor? But I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. Even if this place moves to feudalism, wouldn't it be far more civilized than the current state of eating raw meat and drinking blood? Forgive my bluntness, but that's how it looks to an outsider." After all, this place was on par with the Bone Chewer tribe—a relic already buried in the dirt. Even a godforsaken dump like Red River Town was probably far more advanced than them. Zayed took no offense, merely offering a faint smile. "Anyone can see that Laxi wants to be an emperor; you aren't the only ones who notice. But regrettably, he won't get that chance. The survivors of Brahma Province do not need an emperor—or rather, what the people here have ever needed was never an emperor; it's just that the final outcome ended up saddling them with 'His Majesty'... Nor, of course, do they truly want equality. What they want is someone to 'make decisions for them.'" Qian Duo raised an eyebrow with interest. Before coming here, he had conducted thorough market research and had read Ms. Han Mingyue's investigation report multiple times. What this man was saying was distinctly different from the findings of the Alliance's Scientific Expedition, even if not entirely contradictory. "You don't think Laxi is that person?" Zayed shook his head. "Evidently not." "Because he was born a slave?" Qian Duo asked curiously. "Of course not." "Then why?" Zayed looked up at the ceiling, pondered for a moment, and said, "Because... he wants to be a *good* emperor." Qian Duo couldn't help but chuckle. "Is there something wrong with that?" Zayed smiled faintly, not answering directly. "A logical paradox exists on this land. For now, I call it... the 'Rats Cannot Become Human Theorem'—or simply, the 'Rat-Man Theorem.' A man who wants to be a good general will never be a good general. A man who wants to be a good emperor will never be a good emperor. Even someone who merely wants to be a good person will never manage it. Whether it is Laxi or Wutuo, whether it is the youths of the Federation or the old nobility of Wutuo, the harder they strive and the more they struggle, the further they will veer from their ideals." It sounded like a theory he had made up on the spot, seeing as he had spent quite a few seconds thinking of its ridiculous name. Still, to better understand the market under his feet, Qian Duo listened on with genuine curiosity. "Sounds like a truly hopeless destiny." "Isn't it?" Zayed glanced at the wall clock in the terminal. Seeing that he still had some time, he carried on eloquently. "...An unseen curse binds every person on this land, whether Rat Clan or Moon Clan. Some realize the source of the curse: the red mud, the City of a Thousand Pillars. But far more only think they realize it, understanding nothing at all. So they fix their gaze on the red mud, on those thousand pillars. It's like picking flowers in a mirror, fishing for the moon in water, or looking for a noble steed in a cattle pen. "The only one who could make decisions for the survivors of Brahma Province is a flawless 'saint.' In this pursuit, they demand utter perfection, with a devotion even more fervent than the zealots of Silver Moon Bay. And so, they got what they wished for: Rowell... You might say Rowell died long ago, but isn't Wutuo just another Rowell? "He never truly left; he remains in that red mud, cursing those who buried him. Now his children have found a new answer—something they had never dared imagine before: the 'equality' you brought them." He lowered his eyes and let out a faint sigh. "Everything looks wondrous on the surface, but unfortunately, the curse has taken effect—or rather, the 'Rat-Man Theorem' has kicked in: a rat yearning to be a good person cannot even be a good rat. When all the survivors of Brahma Province yearn for 'equality,' consciously or not, what they ultimately receive will inevitably be its exact opposite." Qian Duo paused, then chuckled teasingly. "If such a flawless saint truly existed, not just your people, but we would need one too... You don't have to frame laziness as something unique to your province." Zayed chuckled and shook his head. "You don't actually need one; you're only saying that. You and we are completely different. Let me give you the simplest example: in Brahma Province, a group of people who appear irreverent and improper, yet on the whole do some good deeds, would be liked by no one—in fact, they would be condemned to hell." "Are you talking about vault dwellers?" Qian Duo glanced around; there happened to be a few blue coats nearby. He smiled. "Seems to me the people of Golden Gallon Port like them quite a lot." Zayed said softly, "That's because they haven't left yet... Moreover, you look at Golden Gallon Port and think it has undergone a marvelous transformation, that it has finally attained the equality they dreamed of. But in truth, they haven't realized that they have merely found someone to 'make decisions for them'—a group upon whom they can lay their exhausted souls." It sounded as if he were calling all the survivors of Brahma Province idealists, yet the *Survivor Daily* in Golden Gallon Port promoted materialism, just like the Alliance. Qian Duo raised an eyebrow with interest, though he completely disagreed with the man's viewpoint. "Your deduction is interesting, but it has no empirical basis... Honestly, why not follow Ms. Han Mingyue's example? Write your theories into a well-structured paper and publish it. We'd love to see a debate between you two." Zayed suddenly burst into laughter. "That would be utterly meaningless. Would you publish the exact steps for making money in the newspapers? Besides, don't forget the Rat-Man Theorem I mentioned. I have no wish to become the first sacrifice of this paradox—far too many people will die for it anyway. Time will validate my judgment... My flight is boarding. I wish you a pleasant journey." With that, he picked up his suitcase and rose from his seat. Then, as if remembering something, he looked back at Qian Duo with a smile and tipped his hat. "By the way, Mammoth State truly is a good place. I, too, am optimistic about its future." Leaving behind the astonished Alliance merchant, Zayed walked over to the security checkpoint. He seemed to have a brief dispute with the staff there, but was ultimately allowed through. Qian Duo looked at Han Long beside him and exclaimed in excitement, "Holy crap... that guy has some serious chops. How did he know we were going to Mammoth State for inspection?" An intriguing fellow. He should have asked for his name. Han Long stared at the man's receding back for a moment, his electronic eye flicking left and right. "I only care about the boss's business... That said, he didn't seem too optimistic about Laxi. Do we still need to go?" Qian Duo laughed. "Him being pessimistic is just his opinion. There are plenty of people in this world whose views differ from ours; don't let some passerby's ramblings skew your judgment. Besides, our views don't completely clash—at least he's bullish on Mammoth State, just like me." If the Liszt Group wanted to ride the wave of the era, it had to expand its overseas business like the Baiyue Company, integrating into the new supply chain taking shape. In the future, the Alliance's goods would no longer be produced solely by the two industrial zones of Daybreak City and Boulder City. An invisible logistics network would link together all the productivity—both backward and advanced—across the Anti-Slime Mold Community. Yet while expanding business was crucial, controlling risk was even more so. That was precisely why, when Liszt ordered him to go to Mammoth City, he had made Golden Gallon Port his first stop. Only the nouveau riche fixated solely on returns. Before considering profit, he had to secure an exit route.