When it comes to success, some people lack ability, while others merely lack an opportunity.
Henke from the New World belonged to the latter.
From peddling bootleg liquor to dealing arms, it was obvious that he had never been someone who stayed in his place.
And that was indeed the case.
From the moment he stepped foot in Settlement No. 1, he had been studying the Alliance's rules of the game, never resting even while toiling on the docks.
However, his study of the Alliance's rules was not done in hopes of finding some loophole that would make him rich overnight; rather, it was to minimize risk as much as possible and find policy resources he could leverage.
The biggest lesson he had learned from his previous two business ventures was that opportunistic schemes could never last.
He could win many times, but a single loss would cost him everything.
This time, however, would be different.
He had already discovered a money-making model that was both completely legal and wildly lucrative.
Under his persuasion, Fili established the first investment bank registered in Settlement No. 1: Fili Bank.
And with mountains of dinars put up as collateral, the loan that Henke had failed to secure no matter how hard he tried was successfully secured by Mr. Fili on his behalf.
What was more, they secured a whopping twenty-two million silver coins!
Counting the eight million silver coins Fili originally held, Henke now commanded thirty million silver coins' worth of chips.
Piling all their chips onto a single plate was, in a sense, a massive gamble in its own right.
Aboard the cargo ship docked by the pier, Fili watched the bank employees hauling crates, his expression a mix of joy and anxiety.
That was the wealth he had accumulated over half a lifetime.
He had originally planned to deposit it in a bank, but now he felt as though he had been sweet-talked at the counter into buying some dubious wealth management product.
Even though this wasn't purely a financial investment—it was also for the future new home of himself and his compatriots—he still couldn't help but ache over the money.
"...There are only a little over a hundred thousand people in all of Settlement No. 1. By the Marshal... I really don't know how we're going to earn these thirty million silver coins back."
Looking at his jittery investor, Henke rested a hand on his shoulder, patted it, and offered enthusiastic comfort.
"A hundred thousand is just the figure right now. Two years ago, there wasn't a single soul here. Yet just a few days ago, five thousand people disembarked at this very dock beneath our feet in a single day... I'd bet that this won't be a rare occurrence in the future. We have to look at things with a development-oriented perspective, just like that Mr. Gu."
In his eyes, that representative named Gu Ning had proactively helped them precisely because he anticipated the future influx of people.
"A development-oriented perspective..." Fili's brow twitched as he couldn't help grumbling, "I looked at your proposal. Phase One only plans for four buildings totaling eight hundred apartments, and that alone will eat up eighty percent of our capital. Where do you intend to find the money for the remaining phases?"
"Find money? My friend, once our Phase One project is completed, we won't need to look for money at all. The money will come looking for us."
Sliding an arm over Fili's shoulders, Henke continued with a smile, "I've already run the numbers. The cost per unit is around forty thousand silver coins for a standard eighty-square-meter layout. As for the sale price, getting a hundred thousand silver coins won't be a problem at all."
"A hundred thousand?!" Fili's eyes widened into saucers as he cried out, "What are you thinking? How could anyone spend that much money on a concrete box?!"
One hundred thousand silver coins was equivalent to four to five hundred thousand dinars, roughly the valuation when mortgaging dinars to the bank.
In Evernight Port, that much money was enough to buy a house in a prime location.
And Evernight Port had a population dozens of times larger than this place!
The moment Henke saw the look on his face, he guessed what Fili was thinking, and explained patiently, "You can't apply your Evernight Port experience to the Alliance. Speak from your conscience—do the other races in Evernight Port count as human? Don't let your population of several hundred thousand fool you; at least ninety percent of them are treated as livestock, and that's putting it mildly."
As for the soldiers, they basically lived in barracks and couldn't really be counted as part of the colony's resident civilian population.
Hearing Henke's explanation, Fili was taken aback for a moment, and after pondering it, he realized it was indeed true.
His jewelry business had boomed there, but the regular clientele who patronized him were actually just a select few, easily counted on both hands.
The other races would never patronize his jewelry store, and naturally they couldn't purchase real estate either.
The Blackwater Alley where they lived didn't even have street numbers.
Seeing that Fili's mind had made the turn, Henke patiently continued, "You know nothing about the purchasing power of the Alliance's residents. Work on the docks for a month, and so long as you don't slack off too much, making two thousand silver coins is practically effortless."
"Two thousand silver coins... Even so, it would take them more than four years to save up a hundred thousand, and that's without spending a copper on food or drink." Although Fili no longer doubted that ordinary people in the Alliance had purchasing power, doing the mental math still made him click his tongue.
Saving for four years without eating or drinking just to afford it—that was longer than the settlement itself had even existed.
If he remembered correctly, Settlement No. 1 had been established less than two years ago.
Looking at Fili, who was still thinking with the mindset of a pawnshop broker, Henke smiled and shook his head.
"You're overlooking one key point. If we can borrow from the Alliance's banks, the Alliance's residents can borrow from them too. What's more, taking out a loan is far easier for them than for us, and the interest is much cheaper."
"...How cheap?"
"One percent interest. Doesn't that sound like free money?"
Looking at the dumbfounded Fili, Henke smiled, wagged a single finger, and continued, "As long as their monthly wage exceeds a thousand silver coins, they've obtained Alliance citizenship, and the loan is for owner-occupied housing, they can easily borrow ten times their annual income, with repayment terms stretching over twenty years... As for collateral, you could say there is none, or you could say it's the very house they purchase.
"Based on my experience in the New World, keeping individual housing expenses below a third of one's monthly income is considered reasonable. Besides, the Alliance's low-rent housing isn't free; the rent is merely cheap. But now, they only need to shell out a third or even less of their monthly income to move into a bigger, more spacious, and more dignified home—complete with a private kitchen, bathroom, and toilet... Most importantly, the apartment belongs to them. They can live there until the Alliance ceases to exist and no one will ever drive them out.
"By that calculation, as long as someone earns over a thousand silver coins a month and has obtained Alliance citizenship... every single one of them is our potential customer."
In fact, not only full citizens, but even people under probation could get loans, just at an interest rate one percentage point higher.
And once they attained Alliance citizenship, they could refinance through a very simple procedure.
Although payments already made would not be refunded, they would be deducted from the total principal and interest.
In a sense, this was an economic stimulus measure.
At the same time, it served as a welfare benefit for ordinary Alliance citizens.
After all, compared to the Alliance's annual growth rate, loans with outrageously low interest rates like this were virtually no different from handing out free money.
Fili held his breath involuntarily, yet worry still lingered in his heart, and he couldn't help asking, "...But why would they buy your houses?"
Henke smiled faintly.
"Because of scarcity. The Alliance will build those 'corncob' tower blocks for them, but equality doesn't mean egalitarianism. Nobody wants to live in one of those things for their entire life—or for generations—sharing a toilet with their neighbors. Striving for a better life is human nature, and we provide it to them... Isn't that far more meaningful than letting them waste their money on booze?"
"It sounds wonderful..." Fili muttered to himself, his eyes lighting up.
"In fact, it's quite good," Henke said with a smile, patting Fili's shoulder as he saw the man's worries dissipate. "Once Phase One is finished, our game will officially begin... As for Phase Two, I haven't fully decided yet, but let's tentatively set the unit price at a hundred and twenty thousand silver coins."
Fili's eyes rounded in shock.
"A twenty percent price hike? Will anyone still buy at that price?"
Henke smiled.
"It'll sell like hotcakes."
***
Henke's vision was indeed razor-sharp.
From the very beginning, the customers in his eyes were not just the survivors of Settlement No. 1, but those of the entire Death Coast and even the eastern provinces.
If the Alliance's space elevator was built, the land beneath his feet would become the terrestrial settlement closest to space—and that was the truly rarest resource of all.
Although the South Sea Alliance was closer, those islands were small and scattered, utterly incapable of competing with him.
Moreover, speaking heresy, once the Southern Legion lost the war in Brahma Province, what those gamblers would lose was likely far more than just West Sail Port.
The entirety of the southern colonies could be plunged into a tidal wave of national liberation movements.
Given the atrocities that had previously occurred in West Sail Port, the Wilante living in the colonies would never be able to stay.
And when that time came, they would only have three places to go—
They could return to Triumph City, or go to the New World.
Or else, their only option would be Alliance territory.
Those new immigrants would bring not only labor, but also the knowledge and wealth in their possession.
Henke's true ambition was far greater than what he let on.
He didn't just want to turn Wilante Street in Settlement No. 1 into the most prosperous district on this coastline; he also wanted to seize the historical opportunity of Settlement No. 1 to establish the Henke Group as a prestigious hallmark brand!
In the future, whenever people mentioned his name, they would associate it with excellence and perfection.
And the skyscrapers he built would become synonymous with quality and the good life.
Looking even further ahead, the people of this planet would come to see the Wilante in a whole new light—
They were not just warmongering maniacs whose gun barrels grew out of their skulls; they could also be consummate engineers, or even visionary artists of boundless imagination!
With the funds from Fili Bank in place, construction teams from North Island of the South Sea Alliance gradually arrived at the site.
The building materials used on site were shipped from Port French Fries as well as Weifu City to the north.
As for the workers on the ground, besides laborers from Settlement No. 1, there were also expatriate workers from the Mammoth State employed by the North Island Construction Company.
And of course, young Wilante men who had just stepped off the ships.
When it came to solidarity, the Wilante were truly beyond reproach. Even though Henke was a New Worlder with the worst reputation, Fili had still lent him the money.
And toward these fleeing compatriots, Henke genuinely provided as much care as lay within his power... even if he was the craftiest Wilante.
In stark contrast, the behavior of the Polos was utterly fragmented and contradictory.
The generous among them were often selfless to a fault, neglecting even themselves, while the deceitful were conniving to the extreme, without a single pixel in their vision reserved for anyone else.
Aside from the formerly most ostracized Moon Clan, who maintained a degree of unity, infighting was routine among other survivors from Brahma Province.
Moreover, this didn't just happen between the Snake Clan and the Rat Clan; it frequently occurred within the same clan.
Sometimes it wasn't even driven by self-interest, but simply out of spite—an inability to bear seeing others thrive.
Sometimes they couldn't bear to see the Wilante doing well; other times they couldn't bear to see other Rat Clan members doing well.
This resulted in a bizarre state of affairs.
During the election of representatives, they would pose as the fiercest opponents of racial narratives, acting like the most progressive progressives, and would never cast that vote of trust for their own compatriots.
Meanwhile, those Polos who became representatives by gaining the trust of other ethnicities would go to great lengths to shed their Polo identity, distancing themselves from their fellow Polos, sponsoring motions detrimental to Polos, and even going so far as to change their names.
After all, the Alliance ID card had no column for race; everyone was simply a citizen of the Alliance. Once they changed the surnames that marked their heritage, half the brand was erased, and only fellow Polos could recognize those who had also eaten dirt in the old days.
Yet the moment they saw someone from their own group make it big without speaking up on their behalf, those who had never once supported him would turn like Schrödinger's cat, shifting right back into conservatives and the fiercest champions of racial grievances, resorting to the nastiest curses and the harshest moral standards in an attempt to guilt-trip the person who bore the same marks as them.
The outcome, of course, was self-evident.
Aside from truly selfless saints and outright grifters, nobody gave such people a friendly face.
When a lose-lose dynamic took hold, it was rarely due to a single mistake made by one individual or one decision, but rather because something at the very root had spiraled into systemic collapse.
This was not something a war or two could reverse.
Regrettably, those deafening outcries had indeed been a rarity on the wasteland; at least the Wilante had never produced a "Mr. Rat," nor that unbroken succession of capable figures who threw themselves forward one after another.
And yet, the Wilante had awakened clean and fast.
What woke Henke was a shipwreck, while all it took to wake the residents of Evernight Port was a fellow named Kant.
Without a shred of nostalgia, they had laid down the past and moved forward without hesitation.
In Brahma Province, however, the Moon Clan had only jolted awake when they were on the brink of being wiped out.
And even more of them, despite already standing on the Alliance's soil, were still wandering in a dream...
Just as construction teams hired by the Henke Group headed onto the site, a line of large words in white paint on a green background was painted onto the corrugated iron wall cordoning off the construction area.
Henke had painted it with his own hands.
Standing by the side of the highway, he tossed the paintbrush into the paint bucket, clapped his hands with a satisfied grin, and read the words aloud in the cadence of a bard:
"...Wilante Street is a street in the Wilante style, not merely a street for Wilante.
"Dedicated to ending the Wasteland Era, we welcome everyone—compatriots from afar and local friends alike.
"Not bad, not bad at all... Hope the Survivor Daily does us the honor of putting it on the front page."
***
At the very same time construction began on the Wilante Street project, the man sitting in the office of the Representative Council's regular commissioner wore a face full of sorrow and worry.
His name was Wu Jingshan. Formerly a resident of Boulder City, he had served as a company commander in the Southern Construction Corps before arriving here as a pioneer alongside the dwellers of Shelter 404, making him one of the earliest residents of Settlement No. 1.
At the same time, he was one of the earliest representatives of the local residents, and was later elected as the regular commissioner by fellow representatives.
In the Representative Council, a regular commissioner was also a representative, but held a relatively special post, akin to a moderator of the council.
Since the Alliance had not yet developed distinct political factions—or rather, the Administrator himself and the vault dwellers constituted the largest faction—the regular commissioner was usually held by a centrist whom both conservatives and radicals could agree upon.
In short, neither faction could find an ally they completely trusted, so they simply elected a peacemaker.
And Wu Jingshan was the peacemaker of Settlement No. 1.
Whenever arguments between different factions grew too heated, he would step forward to persuade both sides to take a step back, preventing the victors from sweeping the board completely and the losers from losing all their chips.
Earlier, the Polos' siege of City Hall had led to the conservatives winning an overwhelming majority on the Wilante Street Motion.
Truth be told, he was not very eager to intervene in an issue where the outcome was so decisive, even though he had cast a dissenting vote himself at the time.
Yet just yesterday, a representative named Suka had approached him, saying that a considerable portion of the Polos were dissatisfied with the council's decision, believing the council did not represent them, and were brewing something even bigger.
Wu Jingshan did not know whether Suka had come to him out of an identity as a former Polo or out of a radical political stance.
Still, he could not afford to take the Polo representative's warning lightly.
After all, this was the wasteland; no one could say for sure just how big a "big incident" might become.
For this reason, he had reported the matter to the Guards Corps and the local police bureau on one hand, while seeking out Gu Ning, the sponsor of the motion, on the other, hoping Gu Ning would propose an amendment to soothe the feelings of the radicals—or rather, the Polos.
As the original sponsor, Gu Ning was the person most capable of pulling it off.
Yet after listening to the peacemaker's plea, Gu Ning merely sighed and set the teacup in his hand down on the table.
"Honestly, I'm surprised. My proposal passed with eighty percent in favor, and of the remaining twenty percent, opposing votes didn't even make up half—it could be described as completely uncontroversial. I didn't expect you to come to me anyway."
Wu Jingshan sighed. "I'm merely asking for your opinion; I'm not forcing you to change your views..."
Gu Ning chuckled softly. "I'm guessing that fellow Suka asked you to persuade me, didn't he?"
To tell the truth, he held quite a low opinion of certain radicals in Settlement No. 1.
While members of the Workers' Association were mostly radicals as well, they at least had the guts to physically go to Brahma Province to support the locals' revolution, and they spent money and dues voluntarily donated by workers, without touching a single copper of the Alliance's treasury.
Take Eugene, for example.
When the second gunshot rang out in West Sail Port, that fellow was on the front lines, fighting shoulder to shoulder with the 'family' of that Family Association.
Even though he was ultimately thrown back by the Southern Legion, carrying his ideals this far proved he was at least a real man.
As for the so-called radicals around him, all they knew was how to spend money and preach dogmas; he had seen no pioneering spirit whatsoever in them.
Those people treated the Polos more like pampered puppies and kittens, twisting so-called solidarity into special privileges in every conceivable guise.
This was fundamentally at odds with the Alliance's ideals of equality.
Worse yet, they completely ignored the shifting tide of public opinion and the Alliance residents' growing disgust toward demands for preferential treatment.
Before those fools, hand in glove with the Polos, completely ruined the word 'solidarity', he felt he had to step forward and do something.
And in Gu Ning's view, the best course of action was to set an example for these spineless, incompetent radicals, showing them what real solidarity looked like.
Looking at the unyielding Gu Ning, Wu Jingshan sighed and said, "Regardless of who came to me, I personally don't think Wilante Street is a good idea either."
Gu Ning smiled noncommittally. "They're spending their own money. As for whether it's a good idea, we'll only know after they build it. Besides, smoking pollutes the air, but I haven't seen you smoke any less."
Wu Jingshan stared at him. "Does this mean you're endorsing them?"
"I never said that. I merely exercised the rights granted to me by the constitution and did what I believed to be right." Gu Ning smiled faintly, leaving his words airtight.
Sitting across from him, Wu Jingshan was silent for a moment before sighing, "The Administrator is coming soon. You know that, right?"
Gu Ning said calmly, "The entire settlement knows."
Wu Jingshan continued, "Then you should understand that our conflict with the Legion is significant right now. If the Administrator objects to this project, it will definitely fall through, and that won't do those Wilante any favors either."
Gu Ning said succinctly, "You think the Administrator will object because you don't understand him at all."
"And you do?" Wu Jingshan countered.
Gu Ning gave a faint smile. "I wouldn't dare boast like that. But I can say with certainty that that gentleman's support for Brahma Province is by no means born of special favoritism toward the Polos, but for the interests of the Alliance. That is fundamentally different from those bleeding hearts."
Wu Jingshan couldn't help saying, "Then have you considered another possibility?"
Seeing the regular commissioner hesitate as if holding something back, Gu Ning's eyebrow arched slightly. "What possibility?"
Wu Jingshan stared at him for a while before blurting out, "What if those Polos go and kneel before him?"
He didn't know why that thought had suddenly popped into his head; only a few minutes earlier, he had been worrying that those Polos might set off a bomb and blow up their meeting hall.
Perhaps in his subconscious, this felt far more like what they would actually do.
Gu Ning looked in surprise at the regular commissioner across from him, unsure whether he was astonished by Wu Jingshan's line of thought or by the scenario itself.
Sitting up straight in his chair, Gu Ning stared directly at him. "...Do you know what I think?"
Suddenly finding this fellow impossible to read, Wu Jingshan answered uncertainly, "...What do you think?"
Gu Ning suddenly broke into a grin and leaned back leisurely in his chair.
"Nothing could be better."
Chapter 907