Shortly before the Wilante celebrated their most important holiday of the year, two major events shook Golden Gallon Port on the eastern coast of Brahma Province.
The first was an announcement issued by the head office of the Bank of Golden Gallon Port, warning of risks in trading Xilan coins, restricting related financial instruments and foreign exchange channels, and strictly guarding against systemic financial risk.
Simply put, forex speculators could no longer trade on leverage, and private depositors holding Xilan coins were urged by account managers to dump whatever they had as quickly as possible.
Meanwhile, the trade administration department issued a notice suspending all export operations settled in Xilan coins, while import operations remained unaffected.
This caused an immense sensation among high society in Golden Gallon Port, particularly among those holding substantial amounts of Xilan currency.
As for the vast majority of wage earners, they were completely unaffected.
After all, the gallon was pegged to silver coins, not Xilan coins. The rise and fall of that foreign currency wouldn't affect locals' everyday lives anytime soon.
By contrast, they were far more interested in the second event—
Namely, an exclusive interview granted to the Golden Gallon Port branch of *Survivor Daily* by Emperor Wutuo of Xilan.
Compared to the grave topic of the first, this second affair was steeped in farce from beginning to end.
The two parties met aboard the royal merchant vessel. Just before the interview began, Wutuo abruptly went back on his word, citing Xilan imperial law as a pretext to demand that the *Survivor Daily* reporting team conduct the interview on their knees.
Naturally, the reporters had no intention of indulging him. Instead, struck by sudden inspiration, they hired a Wilante actor from the Grand Theater.
Sure enough, the moment Wutuo caught sight of that prominent nose, his face lit up with radiant joy as though reuniting with his own father, and he courteously invited his guest to sit and converse.
The interview proceeded smoothly.
On one side, the actor recited his script from memory like well-rehearsed lines; on the other, the emperor improvised wildly off the cuff. The two talked past each other at every turn, filling the entire exchange with pure comedic absurdity.
Once the interview concluded, the Golden Gallon Port branch of *Survivor Daily* rushed a special edition to print that very day, reporting on this "Dialogue of the Century."
Perhaps because the little "Kneel!" incident had offended the editorial desk, the copy editor rather maliciously slipped the phrase "The Last Emperor" into the headline.
Fortunately for everyone, Wutuo only ever read the "special digests" sent by Duke Garava. His subordinates certainly dared not show him such treasonous headlines, lest his fury cause him internal hemorrhaging—if not an outright diplomatic incident.
Not long after the special edition hit the streets, people whose curiosity had been satisfied gradually lost interest in the emperor.
So the man who had sat upon the necks of Brahma Province's survivors was nothing more than this sort of clown.
To be fair, he might indeed have been slightly sharper than an ordinary peasant, but not by much; he couldn't even match the nouveau riche of Golden Gallon Port who had grown fat off relocation payouts.
When speaking of military theory, he vividly described the rules of Animal Chess. When discussing global strategy, he "simplified the complex" using monkeys and dogs in a zoo, confounding the Wilante temp who interviewed him into stunned silence.
As for the empire's future:
Once the battleships from the South Sea Alliance were delivered, everything would get better!
Some things were never afraid of a head-to-head comparison; they were only afraid of seeing the light of day.
Everyone who read the special edition came away thoroughly disappointed, ruing the four gallons they had wasted on the paper.
For that kind of money, sitting in a teahouse would have yielded far better entertainment!
Yet it was precisely because of this four-gallon special edition that the public finally saw Wutuo for what he truly was.
From then on, no matter how profoundly the old royalists asserted that the Emperor of Xilan possessed hidden depths and transcendent wisdom, playing four-dimensional chess with secret grand strategies, hardly any sane person bought into their nonsensical rubbish anymore.
At this moment, Wutuo was blissfully unaware of outside opinion, though he was immensely pleased that the riverbanks were no longer swarming with spectators watching the spectacle.
With fewer onlookers along the shore, he finally dared open his windows for fresh air, and even went so far as to set dining tables out on the deck, hosting a banquet for the aristocratic remnants of Golden Gallon Port to win over hearts and minds.
Every noble ranked baron or above throughout Golden Gallon Port received an invitation, yet the response was lukewarm at best.
The grand nobles had either relocated or were doing well enough that they wouldn't dream of meeting him, if only to avoid suspicion.
Police Chief Bihari, for instance.
Forget attending—he wished he could flush both the invitation and his imperial title down the sewer to scrub away every last trace of his imperial past.
Those who did attend were exclusively down-on-their-luck aristocrats.
Most were men cast aside by the wheels of progress. Though they might possess a smattering of learning, they refused to demean themselves with honest labor, or their ambitions far exceeded their abilities. Ultimately, they had gone bankrupt or sunk under mountains of debt, their lives a complete shambles.
Thus, when they stood upon the deck of the royal merchant vessel in the finest formal attire their wardrobes could muster and laid eyes upon His Imperial Majesty, the glorious and splendid "Nihak Era" seemed to materialize before them once more.
At that instant, nearly every one of them was moved to tears, practically falling to their knees on the deck.
"Your Majesty! You've finally remembered us!"
"We have missed you so dearly, Your Majesty!"
"Please, return to us quickly!"
"The Alliance is truly monstrous! Boo-hoo... you have no idea how they've treated us!"
"Our lives have been so bitter!"
"Rise, my ministers, quickly, rise! It is I who have made you suffer." Wearing an expression of deep sorrow and pity, Wutuo stepped forward, making a lifting gesture with both hands as if to help them all up.
Gazing upon the weeping nobles, his face showed pained sympathy, but inwardly, he was thrilled to the core.
Even if proving the Alliance was a piece of shit didn't prove the Empire smelled like roses, he simply couldn't resist hearing it.
After all, the more miserably they wept and the more acutely they suffered, the more it proved he had been right all along.
After a tearful round of pleasantries, Wutuo had his attendants seat them at the tables.
As for himself, he sat at the head of the banquet, nodding to the head chef hired from the Triumph Hotel to signal that the feast could begin.
Trolley after trolley was wheeled out onto the deck, laden with exquisite delicacies.
The old noble remnants gulped uncontrollably, their eyes glued to the waiters serving the dishes, aching to pounce and snatch the food with their bare hands.
Wutuo enjoyed the meal immensely, feeling as though every ounce of humiliation he had endured along the way had finally been made right.
Three rounds of wine later, the nobles were pleasantly tipsy, with some already slumped over their tables, snoring away.
Seeing that they had nearly finished eating, Wutuo suddenly rose with an air of drunken bravado and raised his cup.
"Hearing your grievances pains my heart deeply! It is all because that worthless Alaiyang failed to repel the enemy, subjecting you all to such hardship!"
Pausing, he added:
"How about this? Once things calm down, would you gentlemen be willing to follow me back to Tiandu? I promise you all: past grievances will be wiped clean, and you will remain my most loyal servants!"
The moment the words left his mouth, dead silence fell over the deck. Even the snoring abruptly ceased.
The very men who had just been weeping snot and tears, spilling their woes, and cursing the Alliance for being monstrous now buried their heads one by one, keeping dead silent as though struck dumb.
Seeing the atmosphere turn cold, Prince Dilip hastily stepped in to smooth things over, laughing awkwardly:
"Eat up, everyone, eat up! You've had it rough going without decent meals lately, but His Majesty is treating us today—don't hold back, eat your fill!"
Hearing this, the nobles with their heads down were miraculously cured of their muteness, chiming in with compliments:
"His Majesty is generous!"
"That Alliance is truly stingy! They tore down my house and gave me that pitiful compensation—nothing like His Majesty's magnanimity!"
"Alas... your old servant misses Grand Duke Nihak every waking moment! I wonder if he is well in the southern barbarian waters!"
"...Please return soon! We miss you to death, Your Majesty!"
The mood warmed up once more.
The down-and-out nobles resumed pouring out their grievances with tears and snot flowing freely.
Yet not a single soul mentioned going back to Tiandu.
They appeared thoroughly drunk, yet each was sharper than the next, every last one an old sly fox.
Wutuo looked displeased. He drank alone in gloom, wanting to erupt in rage, but had no idea where to direct it.
Every word out of their mouths was flattery—who was he supposed to yell at?
Unable to bear the hypocritical atmosphere, having seen more than enough of the fickleness of human nature, he let out a cold snort, rose from his seat, and swept off with a flick of his sleeves...
The weeping and wailing continued incessantly, yet amidst the clinking of glasses and toasts, it sounded uncannily like joy and laughter.
And that hysterical laughter grated on the ears worse than weeping...
Finally noticing that His Majesty had departed, the dead-drunk Prince Dilip hurriedly wiped his mouth and raised his cup to toast the table.
"His Majesty couldn't hold his wine, but please, drink your fill, everyone, drink your fill!"
Grease glistening on their lips and bellies swollen, the nobles didn't care in the slightest. Having already forgotten the ruler they supposedly pined for had walked out, they burped one after another:
"Praise His Majesty!"
"Haha!"
"His Majesty is wise!"
...
While Wutuo hosted grand banquets on the Everflowing River, the empire he had abandoned without a ruler had devolved into total chaos.
It wasn't because the Heavenly Army had breached Tiandu's gates, but because no one had imagined Wutuo pulling off such an outrageous feint.
He was the sovereign of a nation!
What kind of monarch played his own subjects for fools like that?
With the interview published and *Survivor Daily*'s special edition circulating, news that Wutuo was in Golden Gallon Port spread instantly.
The three northern states, busy preparing to receive His Majesty, were the first to be dumbfounded. Especially when they saw that only the Crown Prince arrived, the officials who had assembled full imperial honors to welcome an emperor were completely thrown for a loop.
The warlords of Tiger State and Leopard State flanking Golden Gallon Port cursed in disbelief; they never dreamed their own emperor would play them for suckers!
Truth be told, when it came to rebelling, they hadn't necessarily harbored such thoughts—at least not for the moment.
After all, given the empire's riddled and crumbling state, whoever became emperor would be roasted over an open fire. Wouldn't it be far better to remain local petty tyrants whose word was law?
However, even if they had no plans to rebel, they had to stay on guard against their fellow warlord neighbor harboring treacherous designs, taking the emperor hostage to pull off some clever trick.
Now that the emperor had slipped quietly through their territory without a peep, both warlords grew uneasy.
The emperor no longer trusted them.
Tiandu was surrounded so tightly that water couldn't leak through; expecting more military payroll to be sent was out of the question.
Right now, the empire was too busy to deal with them, but once it freed up its hands, who knew what would happen?
So, should they rebel or not?
The Tiger Army and Black Panther Army, which had previously been content quietly making a fortune, were now forced to confront this practical dilemma.
And while the entire empire was thrown into disarray by Wutuo's shameless antics, thousands of kilometers away in Dawn City, the landscape was uniquely bright.
The First Wasteland Survival Equipment Expo had officially concluded. Acclaimed by wastelanders, it had racked up one billion silver coins in sales!
Any survivor faction certified by the Alliance and adhering to the basic conventions could purchase military hardware according to their diplomatic tier to combat marauders and mutant factions.
The Alliance's munition factories even offered specialized custom services based on clients' coordinates and practical needs:
Installing fixed turrets on perimeter walls, deploying patrol drones near production facilities, and so forth.
In the past, given the purchasing power of survivors around the Alliance, buying these high-value-added items would have been practically impossible.
Even if the Alliance's bank lent them the money, their financial situation would never have allowed them to pay it back.
However, over the past year, supported by technicians attracted to Dawn City, the Alliance had continuously upgraded its industrial base.
During this process, the Alliance "transitioned" many of its relatively outdated production facilities to trustworthy, albeit less developed, partners.
Golden Gallon Port was the prime example.
Though Golden Gallon Port had once been dirt poor, it secured substantial investment backed by the Baiyue Company, quickly absorbing the production lines that the Alliance was migrating toward Silver Moon Bay at the time.
These included sugar refining, brewing, cotton spinning, garment manufacturing, agricultural machinery, bicycles, and even exoskeleton parts.
While these industries weren't high value-added, they were a perfect fit for labor-intensive, relatively less educated Golden Gallon Port.
Having struck it rich through the Alliance, Golden Gallon Port naturally couldn't just take in funds without spending them—the Alliance's rules of the game wouldn't permit that anyway.
Besides servicing installment loans and buying silver coin bonds issued by the Bank of the Alliance to earn interest, a substantial portion of that capital went toward importing goods.
As high-value-added products, munitions accounted for a major share of those imports.
Beyond Golden Gallon Port, other settlements—including Sunset Province, the Southern Sea, and the eastern provinces—engaged in similar cycles of currency and commerce.
And these survivor settlements that had prospered alongside the Alliance, while using silver coins to improve their quality of life, naturally didn't mind spending a bit of pocket change to upgrade their security measures, lest they become targets for marauders roaming the outside.
Aside from bulk procurement orders, individual buyers abounded.
After all, compared to the high-tech, hard-to-maintain goods produced by the Enterprise, the simple, reliable weapons made by the Alliance were immensely popular among wastelanders.
Still, several corporate groups from the Enterprise sold plenty of fine wares at the expo.
For example, wearable smart devices from Endpoint Group, military exoskeletons and cybernetics from Changge Group, and androids from Kangmao Group.
Most of these goods were purchased by the Alliance's players, accounting for 30 percent of the expo's total transaction volume.
As a guest of honor, Chu Guang also attended the expo, though he didn't purchase a thing.
He had no personal need for new equipment, and the Alliance's military had far more specialized procurement channels, leaving him no reason to pick and choose at a public expo.
Furthermore, their truly superior gear was generally not offered for open sale.
For instance, the P-2 Lightning attack aircraft that had performed brilliantly in the North Island campaign, the L-10 Thunder fighter aircraft, and the like.
After chatting with old friends from the Enterprise at the expo, Chu Guang was about to check out what new gimmicks Brother Mosquito had cooked up when he suddenly received a video call request from Alliance Foreign Minister Cheng Yan, prompting him to step into a lounge beside the convention center.
"Xiao Qi, watch the door for me."
"You got it!"
Hearing Chu Guang's instruction, Xiao Qi replied with full enthusiasm, then immediately tapped into the convention center's surveillance system to ensure no one was eavesdropping nearby.
As for Chu Guang, he deftly withdrew a holographic computer pen from his breast pocket, set it on the coffee table, and projected a light-blue holographic image.
The convention center was full of prying eyes and ears; caution was warranted.
Besides, this matter was of paramount importance.
Even before the video connection went through, Chu Guang had already roughly guessed what his foreign minister was calling to report...
Sure enough.
The instant the call connected, Cheng Yan spoke up urgently:
"...According to intelligence gathered through our diplomatic channels, the Empire has formally requested assistance from the Legion! A myriad corps is currently heading from Triumph City to West Sail Port by airship. It's still uncertain which unit it is or which legion they hail from.
"While their deployment was within our expectations, I worry the Legion might use this as a pretext to expand the war, perhaps even seizing the opportunity to annex the entirety of Brahma Province... The Southern Legion is different from the Eastern Legion. Evernight Port, which they control, is not far from West Sail Port. Moreover, they have always harbored ambitions to conquer the east, and they possess the practical capability to dominate West Sail Port and even all of Brahma Province!
"At present, they face two points of resistance. The first comes from internal opposition within the Legion—specifically, the civil faction. According to Bannote's account, West Sail Port and Brahma Province are strictly speaking the sphere of influence of Triumph City's civil administration... but right now, their voices appear to be suppressed."
Chu Guang nodded. "Understandable. After all, so many lives were lost."
"Indeed..." Cheng Yan nodded with a wry smile and continued, "The second point of resistance facing the Southern Legion comes from that ancient treaty. I shouldn't need to elaborate on this, as you're surely familiar with it: long ago, the Legion and the Enterprise agreed on their respective spheres of influence, witnessed by the Great Rift Valley and the Academy. In particular, they defined the boundaries of the Legion's expansion... namely, that under no circumstances may the Legion directly control territory east of the Great Desert.
"Yet, as you well know, the Legion's promises are nothing more than toilet paper. They've constantly scraped along the edges of that red line—for instance, Falcon Kingdom is controlled by the Eastern Legion as a vassal state. As for West Sail Port, while the Legion nominally has no military presence in the region, in reality they've kept troops stationed there, just not on a large scale."
Having listened to Cheng Yan's briefing, Chu Guang pondered for a moment, then spoke up.
"Actually, I've been reviewing the entire sequence of events these past few days. Is it possible... that this was a farce orchestrated by the Wilante themselves?"
"You hit the nail right on the head!"
Cheng Yan gave a thumbs-up of approval, but quickly checked that untimely levity and chose his words carefully as he went on. "To tell the truth, it's not just you who thinks so... Bannote told me the exact same thing. The civil faction doesn't have troops under its direct control, and others have always had their eyes on their slice of the pie. He feels this whole affair wasn't nearly so simple, and someone might very well be pulling strings behind the scenes."
Such a possibility truly couldn't be ruled out.
In fact, the probability was quite high.
After all, the civil faction was far too weak. The prize in their hands was inherently tempting to rivals, and the Legion happened to be at an awkward crossroads—namely, this behemoth engineered solely for war had gone without expanding for far too long.
For a militaristic empire, that was almost unthinkable.
If the Heavenly Army was an avalanche across Brahma Province, then the Legion was an avalanche capable of sweeping over the entire wasteland, with no intention of stopping wherever it struck.
The Eastern Expansionist faction didn't exist solely within the Eastern Legion.
The Southern Legion clearly had a similar faction, and Evernight Port, straddling the central axis of the Great Desert, was the best proof.
That settlement sat squarely on the red line drawn by the "ancient treaty," with an entire myriad corps stationed there indefinitely.
That settlement stood as prominent as a Wilante's high nose bridge. In their very bones, they rejected everything about the Post-War Reconstruction Committee—whether the order it had once established or the treaties signed under its leadership.
Yet that remained only Chu Guang's conjecture.
After all, three thousand lives had been lost...
Without concrete evidence, he couldn't simply attribute it all to some grand conspiracy; after all, Bannote also had every motive to lie in order to excuse his own faction's incompetence.
"What is your recommendation?"
Seeing Chu Guang toss the question back to him, Cheng Yan paused for a moment before answering decisively:
"I propose reinforcing Golden Gallon Port! We must maintain a military presence of at least two corps in that region! Regardless of whether the incident at West Sail Port was staged by a faction within the Legion, we must remain vigilant against them taking advantage of the chaos to cross the red line."
Hearing his proposal, Chu Guang gave an approving nod.
"What is Golden Gallon Port's stance?"
Cheng Yan smiled and replied, "They're eager for us to go protect them; they've even offered to cover all military expenses for our garrison."
Military expenses were a minor matter.
Keeping the Legion calm was what truly mattered.
Chu Guang pondered for a moment, then nodded.
"All right. I will dispatch two corps there."
Hearing those words, Cheng Yan breathed a sigh of relief.
"Oh, there's one more thing. Wutuo's sudden appearance in Golden Gallon Port has caused quite a stir across Brahma Province. The authorities in Golden Gallon Port are undecided on how to handle it and wish to seek our guidance..."
This was fundamentally an internal affair of the Xilan Empire; the Alliance had neither justification nor purpose in intervening.
An emperor who had already lost control of his own realm could, at best, serve as a puppet.
Such a figure might hold some utility in the Legion's hands, but the Alliance was not the Legion, after all, and naturally wouldn't resort to the same methods as the Wilante.
Though Cheng Yan's expression hinted at a desire to make use of the man, Chu Guang gave him little weight in his thoughts.
"Let Golden Gallon Port decide for themselves. The Legion has already been invited in by that fellow; what point would there be in forcing him to recant? The Wilante aren't taxi drivers who stop at a wave and leave with a flick of the wrist."
In truth, at this stage, whether an invitation had been extended made little difference.
The Legion had never been known for playing by the rules anyway; even if the Empire hadn't asked them for help, they would have marched in on their own.
Legitimacy?
If the Wilante truly cared about legitimacy, they wouldn't have broken treaties time and time again.
"Be that as it may, I still feel it's a pity not to take advantage of an opportunity dropped right on our doorstep," Cheng Yan remarked ruefully.
Chu Guang offered a faint smile.
"There's nothing to regret."
"From the moment he fled Tiandu, his era was already over."
Chapter 829