While Absaik was lamenting just how damn difficult it was to lead a bunch of "insects," Commissioner Kabaha—who had stolen the spotlight in the education reform—had no idea he had just been badmouthed in the mind of an "honorable insect."
As the saying goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder—and wasn't the reverse just as true?
If one couldn't understand the forward logic, looking at it backward made everything suddenly clear.
At least from Commissioner Kabaha's perspective, Absaik truly had nothing to complain about.
It was an indisputable fact that the Tiandu Federation could neither unite the conservatives nor the radicals, and that certainly couldn't be blamed on a pedantic, cynical scholar like him.
Just as the downfall of the vast Xilan Empire could hardly be blamed on women and eunuchs.
Anyone with discerning eyes could see that from the moment Wutuo fled, Xilan's fate was already sealed.
Even so, the Federation had done one thing well: it had at least given ordinary people hope.
And ideas brainstormed by a group were far wiser than the senseless blunders hatched behind closed doors by a handful of inbred royals and nobles clapping their hands to their brows.
If the Empire's cohesion had been negative, then the Tiandu Federation's cohesion was at least a positive number.
While bombers buzzed across the sky, the most learned people in Brahma Province were gathered for a reading club, exchanging thoughts through literature.
Of course, "making friends through literature" was merely an elegant pretense.
For organizers like Commissioner Kabaha and Niyang, the primary goal was to organize education, scout talented individuals from all walks of life to serve as lecturers and professors, and rally the strength of the few scholars across Brahma Province.
Though their strength was minuscule compared to other sectors of society, there were still tasks that only they could perform—and had to perform.
As for the explosions echoing from near and far from time to time, those sitting in the small courtyard chose to pay them no heed.
In just one short week, everyone had transitioned from reserved strangers to intimate confidants who could speak of anything.
Though their views differed most of the time—and were even polar opposites—sharp friction never soured their goodwill.
After all, despite their manifold differences in opinion, they stood united on one matter:
National salvation.
One morning, sitting in the courtyard, Commissioner Kabaha frowned and shook his head as he looked at the Survivor Daily in his hand.
"A servant turns into a master, only to put on airs even more ridiculous than his former master."
Unlike Absaik, the first thing that came to his mind wasn't just the other party, but also all those myriarchs who glared coldly at him.
Just a year ago, these fellows had been nothing more than dockworkers, yet in a matter of months they already saw themselves as the masters of the State of Brahma, having forgotten they were once ordinary people too.
Sitting beside Commissioner Kabaha, a smartly dressed young man asked with a smile,
"Oh? Then what does Mr. Kabaha think led to such an outcome?"
His name was Meng Jie, originally named Mengqi, belonging to the early Moon Clan migrants to Port French Fries—evident from his name, which carried a distinctly Alliance flavor.
During the era of the Xilan Empire, the Alliance's Scientific Expedition had dispatched a research team to Camp Rowell in Port Golden Gallon for sociological studies.
Back then, he had assisted Ms. Han Mingyue as her hired assistant. Once the study concluded, he entered Camp 101 for further studies on that researcher's recommendation, and met Niyang in Dawn City while the latter was still working at the embassy.
There was even a time when, during Niyang's lack of inspiration, Meng Jie had acted as a "mercenary," submitting articles to the Dawn Garden Post.
And unlike Niyang, who fabricated whatever Duke Garava loved to hear, he preferred discussing the actual issues existing within the Alliance.
For example, how the miraculous victory of the Boulder City Workers' Union had caused radicals within the Alliance to proliferate, while conservative voices and opinions had long been ignored, and so on.
Boulder City had been a runaway horse that collapsed after galloping wildly for a century and a half, and wasn't the fledgling Alliance just the same?
They were simply speeding down a different road, equally in need of a saddle and reins.
However, that newspaper was essentially an infant product and had never been publicly circulated in the Alliance.
And the newspaper's actual audience cared little for his lukewarm criticisms.
Instead, submitting the same manuscripts to the Goblin Observer sparked some debate.
But that was another topic.
In any case, at Niyang's invitation, Meng Jie—having already changed his name—had returned from the Alliance to serve as professor and president of Mammoth University.
Meanwhile, Niyang had stepped behind the scenes to serve as a school trustee.
Laxi hoped he would take on the role of Minister of Education and establish more schools across Mammoth State and even the Three Northern States.
As for whether other political motives lay behind that, such as "taking de facto control over the Three Northern States," that was also another topic.
"People—or rather, the root defects of human nature," Kabaha said, tapping off his cigarette ash and sighing. "Brahma Province needs a thorough ideological revolution to destroy everything old before it can truly and completely embrace civilization."
"If we don't, going to the Alliance won't make a difference. They'll just move the thousand pillars over there."
Meng Jie chuckled and shook his head.
"Elder, you're being far too radical. The ones who stopped the train were Brahma people; the ones who fixed the train were also Brahma people; and there were certainly Brahma people aboard that train too. How can this be blamed on human nature's root defects? The Alliance has a proverb: people are born as blank sheets of paper; whether they become capable depends on nurture and education. I feel that rather than the root defects of human nature, it's more an absence of education."
Pausing, he added:
"Of course, that this incident blew up to such an extent was also driven by conservative forces within the Alliance. They ignored conservative voices for too long, so a backlash was inevitable. Still, for the Alliance itself, hitting the brakes when brakes are needed isn't necessarily a bad thing."
Long ago, he had written editorials in the newspaper, and he was not the only one holding such arguments.
While he did not oppose reflecting on one's own problems, attributing every issue to the Brahma people and the root defects of human nature was obviously biased, and trying to reform along those lines would only result in overcorrection.
Watching the debate between Commissioner Kabaha and Meng Jie, Niyang, who sat nearby smoking and reading the newspaper, chimed in with a grin.
"Though I argue with Mr. Kabaha all the time, I have to speak up for him this time. Regardless of whether forces within the Alliance are fanning the flames, it doesn't change the problems existing within ourselves."
"The Wilante have Wilante shortcomings; the Brahma have Brahma shortcomings. Neither is lowlier nor nobler than the other. Moreover, the deeper the suffering, the more terminal the illness, and the harder it is to eradicate chronic maladies. To cure the disease, one must use potent medicine and cut down to the root."
"As for Mr. Meng Jie, when discussing issues, we can't always refute without building a theory of our own. You are a university president, after all; let's hear your brilliant idea for curing this disease."
Hearing Niyang's banter, Meng Jie chuckled heartily.
"You flatter me too much. I only picked up this presidency because you stepped down to make way."
Niyang smiled and said,
"Don't say that. I remember begging you to come. You came to help me; don't belittle yourself."
"Then forgive my humble opinion," Meng Jie said with a smile, continuing in a casual tone. "In my view, the people of Brahma are not so different from survivors elsewhere on the wasteland; this land merely lacks equality and fraternity. I agree with part of your view: we need an ideological revolution, but there's no need to dismantle those thousand pillars entirely. We only need to give them what they lack. Those thousand pillars could very well serve as load-bearing walls for the new era."
Ultimately, they had not brought forth new theories to replace the old. Chanting the old set of dogma for too long, once it failed to meet practical needs, it degenerated from theory into religion.
If Niyang and Kabaha's emphasis for this ideological revolution lay on "change," then what he advocated focused on "the new."
Although he lacked confidence in persuading them, there was no harm in everyone speaking their minds and conferring together.
"I cannot agree," Kabaha shook his head. "Mr. Meng Jie's view is far too conservative. Perhaps it would be appropriate if we had hundreds or thousands of years, but certainly not at a critical juncture of life and death."
"Forgive me for calling that a fallacy. Our road is still long; moving a bit slower won't make us late. Looking at a longer timeframe, gentle reform might not necessarily lose to radical revolution."
Not wanting to continue this fruitless argument with these two "radicals," Meng Jie turned a page of the newspaper in his hand. Spotting a celebrity currently riding high in the court of public opinion, he changed the subject with a laugh: "Speaking of which, this Zayed has made quite a name for himself lately. What do you two think?"
Niyang curled his lip.
"A bandit chieftain running with Shahrukh. His subordinate Gopal is cut from the same cloth as Alaiyang—cruel to enemies, even crueler to their own. I hardly think much of Shahrukh, so why ask for my opinion on him? Are there not enough idle fools in Port Golden Gallon? If you ask me, every last one of them will pay for their folly and naivety sooner or later."
Kabaha furrowed his brow.
"I've actually met the man. His conduct and conversation showed considerable insight; he isn't as worthless as you say."
Niyang looked at Kabaha in astonishment, his face full of disbelief.
"Are you serious?"
Meng Jie folded his newspaper, shaking his head between tears and laughter.
Who would have thought that even here, the "radicals" had their own internal rifts?
Watching the two bickering, he momentarily found himself unsure whether he stood on the left or the right.
...
West Sail Port.
Southern Legion Brahma Province Theater Command. Inside the conference room, General Gulion was reporting the previous phase of operations to the Southern Legion General Staff.
Ever since northern and eastern front forces entered a phase of strategic stalemate, the actual areas under each faction's control had seen no significant shifts; the only changes were casualty figures on battle reports and equipment attrition on both sides.
Overall, the Southern Legion's casualty exchange ratio hovered around 1:3.
While this statistic might differ from the battle reports of the State of Brahma and the State of Mammoth, it was generally not far off.
It was human nature to report good news while hiding the bad, so Gulion naturally focused his report on casualty ratios and the bombing effects on Tiandu.
In short, the Southern Legion held a major strategic advantage, and its tactical advantage was just as formidable.
Thanks to the deployment of large amounts of new equipment, the Southern Legion's casualty rate had noticeably dropped, and it was no longer caught off guard when facing the Alliance's electromagnetic weapons.
Everything was heading in a positive direction.
Though the recent incident at the Evernight Port radio station had dampened the morale of some frontline soldiers, prompt information blackouts and thorough ideological preparation had prevented any shaking of the frontline troops' confidence in winning the war.
Yet just as Gulion was vividly recounting one frontline victory after another, the Chief of General Staff suddenly coughed, cutting him off.
"General Gulion, do you know how many people are born each day in an old-era province inhabited by over a hundred million survivors?"
Gulion froze, unsure why the Chief of General Staff was abruptly asking this.
Before he could answer, the holographic projection floating before the conference table continued:
"Ten thousand. At least."
"The poorer the place, the more they breed. I shouldn't need to remind you why. And Lion State alone, under our control, has tens of millions of people. Their fecundity and vitality are like cockroaches, and their actual numbers may well exceed our imagination."
"So do not emphasize to me how many people you killed today or how many you eliminated yesterday. Over a longer timeframe, the numbers you report are completely negligible. At best, they lower their average age."
"If we get bogged down in a prolonged war of attrition, our enemies will only grow younger and more numerous as they fight... Conversely, our elite soldiers and officers will be continually depleted, until a protracted war of attrition drags us down to their level."
Gulion looked somewhat embarrassed.
He was well aware of the underlying problem, yet there was nothing he could do.
Ever since the general offensive on Tiandu failed, the entire Brahma theater had lost five airships in one stroke and retreated over a hundred kilometers in disgrace; his forces had de facto lost the ability to press on with an offensive.
Unless he completely disregarded casualties among his subordinates, or headquarters sent more airships as reinforcements.
The former was detrimental to the long-term war effort, while the latter was unrealistic until the cause of the airship crashes was determined.
Though he loathed to admit it, that was the reality—
The outcome of this war in Brahma Province was no longer something the people trapped in this quagmire could decide.
For the Southern Legion to achieve total victory, it might have to resort to a more radical measure: opening a second front on the Alliance's home turf.
Unfortunately, a strategic decision of this magnitude was far beyond his authority.
It involved not just maneuvering between the Southern Legion and the Alliance, but also between Avent City and Triumph City.
Seeing General Gulion unable to utter a single word, the Chief of General Staff suddenly let him off the hook with an airy remark:
"I have a basic understanding of the frontline situation. Just maintain your current stance. In addition, I have two pieces of news that you may consider good news."
General Gulion immediately adopted a respectful posture.
"Please speak, Sir!"
The Chief of General Staff spoke slowly:
"First, our intelligence operatives have confirmed the true cause of the airship crashes. It is suspected to be related to the gravity well technology transferred to the Alliance by the Academy."
Gulion's expression turned instantly grave.
"The Academy... Have they entered the war?"
This hardly sounded like good news to him.
However, the Chief of General Staff didn't seem overly concerned.
The Academy's conspiracies were difficult to divine, but their ultimate goal was an open hand.
What the Enterprise abandoned was what they pursued their entire lives.
And stopping them was easy enough.
Causing an intricately constructed starship to crash in the atmosphere was far easier than launching it into space.
For that very reason, while the Academy appeared far more active in regional affairs than the Enterprise, the ceiling of what they could actually do was remarkably low.
Transferring one or two technologies was already near the limit of their support.
Looking at the solemn-faced Gulion, the Chief of General Staff continued slowly:
"Pulling petty tricks from the shadows is nothing new for them. Still, those misers being willing to transfer technology to the Alliance did catch us by surprise. I imagine there must be other transactions behind it."
"However, that is not the point. The point is that we have cracked the secret behind their ability to shoot down our airships. This type of gravity well must be deployed in advance, works only on designated areas, and consumes colossal amounts of energy... In fact, not long after they used the gravity well, that 'Heavenly Palace' in Tiandu crashed."
"Perhaps they deployed other gravity well installations, but these targets can be scouted in advance, whether using our drones or ground troops."
Hearing this, joy instantly surfaced on General Gulion's face.
"That is to say... our airships can be deployed again?!"
The Chief of General Staff nodded.
"I will send a few more airships to the front, but I still hope you will utilize them primarily for logistical transport. Our opponent is different from before; airships are not the most effective tool against them."
"I expect you to flexibly employ the new aircraft, powered armor, lasers, and guided weapons sent from the rear to the front. The enemy standing before us is no longer a band of primitives; we must learn to advance with the times."
"This is not merely to win the war before us, but also long-term preparation for opening a second or even third front on the territory of the Alliance or even the Enterprise."
Opening a second or third front!
Wild joy washed over General Gulion's face.
This was undeniably the best news he had heard all month!
The only issue was that the Southern Legion lacked independent diplomatic authority.
To the point where their current war in Brahma Province was conducted in the name of the Xilan Empire.
How to unite other Wilante behind the Southern Legion's war chariot—evidently, the higher-ups already had a plan.
Once the entire Legion united to launch an assault against the common enemy of all Wilante, all current disadvantages would be completely reversed!
Looking at the excited Gulion, the Chief of General Staff smiled faintly and continued:
"The second piece of good news: we have received intelligence that public opinion within the Alliance is shifting as the war drags on. Clearly, their resources are not limitless, and the support from the Academy and the Enterprise is insufficient to plug the hole. Once their ideological current swings right and cuts support to the various rebel armies in Brahma Province, our opportunity will arrive."
"That is the general situation... By the way, how is the development of the Death Agent progressing?"
"That shelter resident named Martin told me he still needs a bit more time. Moreover... he wants the Wilante genetic source code, claiming it is for more efficient friend-or-foe identification. But that is kept in Triumph City; we don't even have it ourselves. We could only settle for the next best thing and find several Wilante to cooperate in his experiments." Gulion hesitated for a moment before finally reporting Martin's request up the chain.
The Chief of General Staff frowned slightly.
"I will look into it."
Leaving those words behind, the pale blue light particles faded from the room.
Gulion let out a sigh of relief, raised his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and looked around the empty conference room, his spirits rejuvenated.
The brass was working on opening a new front.
If this succeeded, he would no longer have to shoulder all this alone.
Just then, a knock came from outside the conference room door.
Wiping away the smile, Gulion assumed a commanding demeanor and coughed toward the door:
"Enter."
An officer pushed the door open, snapped to attention with a salute, and reported with a grave expression:
"Report! Our logistical units stationed in Wolf State have suffered an attack coming from the direction of Snake State! The enemy force is substantial, roughly nine myriads. Most of our stations and logistical transit hubs in southern Wolf State have been destroyed."
"Forced by circumstances, the local garrison had to withdraw northward to consolidate defenses."
Snake State?
Gulion narrowed his eyes and looked at the map hanging on the conference room wall.
That was Shahrukh's territory, as well as the Logistics Department's "turf"—so much so that he had nearly forgotten that corner.
"What are our casualties?"
"Over nine hundred casualties among regular troops, and nearly three thousand among auxiliary forces!"
A bit steep for the auxiliaries, but the casualties among the regulars weren't severe.
Gulion asked further:
"Who is their commander?"
The officer reported:
"The commander is named Grove, a Wolf Clan member, suspected to be a subordinate of Gopal from the former Gray Wolf Army... However, the main Gray Wolf Army has made no moves. The general staff suspects Shahrukh is testing the waters. If we do not respond with sufficient force, they might judge our rear to be vacant and take advantage of the chaos."
"Testing the waters?" Gulion let out a cold sneer. "I hardly think so. Looks more like an ungrateful wolf that won't stay fed."
Those scumbags in the Logistics Department.
Previously, considering Shahrukh's "low profile," he had turned a blind eye to those sordid dealings, planning to settle scores once the battle with the Alliance was decided. But those bastards had gorged themselves on smuggling and now fancied themselves capable.
Then they had no right to blame him for showing no mercy.
With his back to the officer standing by the door, General Gulion barked coldly:
"Inform Myriarch Gibson: I am assigning him three myriads, one hundred thousand auxiliary troops, and an aviation brigade. Teach those blind bastards a harsh lesson! Push all the way to the Snake State border, and bomb until not a single soul is left standing! Pay no heed to civilian casualties!"
Myriarch Gibson was formerly commander of the 34th Myriad, under Ryan's command.
Due to tactical errors, the 34th Myriad had run straight into the Alliance's elite, almost wiped out in Lion State by the Skeleton Corps and the State of Brahma's 11th Myriad.
Afterward, Gibson was benched, turning into a barfly in the taverns of West Sail Port.
After all, Gibson was a soldier Gulion had raised himself; he couldn't bear to see him degenerate like this.
As luck would have it, the 60th Armored Myriad had just wrapped up its riot suppression duties in Evernight Port. Let this fellow lead those green recruits down south for some field practice.
It would help him regain his confidence while offering a chance to redeem himself through meritorious service.
The officer snapped a salute and crisply acknowledged:
"Yes, Sir!"
Just as the Alliance hit the brakes on a train, a grand offensive was quietly unfolding.
Two seemingly unrelated matters separated by thousands of miles were nonetheless intertwined by countless threads behind the scenes.
The scene shifted back to Weifu City within the Alliance.
Although the delayed train resumed operations five hours after the incident, Chu Guang's journey south was postponed by a full week.
On one hand, this accounted for the possibility of copycat incidents; on the other hand, Chu Guang had no desire to get embroiled in the Alliance's internal debate between radicals and conservatives.
Citizens of the Alliance were no longer children. They ought to decide certain things for themselves, rather than crying for their parents or ducking behind him whenever a minor issue arose.
Rather than dumping everything about the Alliance on them all at once someday and washing his hands of it, he preferred accomplishing this step by step.
For example, right now, he was gradually handing over the brake and the gas pedal to them.
Regardless, with the steering wheel in his own hands, he wasn't afraid of the car flipping over.
Once they learned to manage their own speed like the players, he would gradually surrender the steering wheel, just as the first Administrator of Shelter 404 had gradually handed authority over to him.
He always had a premonition that the unsealed Floor B5 might only be unlocked after that matter, and all the confusion in his heart would be answered then.
Chu Guang was quite confident in pulling off this final task.
No one was born knowing how to drive, but anything could be learned.
Moreover, he was an administrator who had been forced onto the stage himself. In the early days, he hadn't even known how to build a house. While his capabilities hadn't been hopeless, they weren't particularly strong either, and his magnanimity had certainly left something to be desired.
He still remembered how, years ago, watching players build houses, he had feared they would erect bizarre obstacles blocking his "line of sight" and "movement paths," secretly sabotaging things from behind the scenes, and so he had instituted a "height restriction ordinance."
Yet as trust was forged, he gradually discovered that in the face of a world so realistic it defied description, his players' affection for this world was not one bit inferior to his own when he first arrived.
Because of this, many versions ago, he had comfortably delegated many matters for players to handle themselves, allowing them to lead the wasteland natives toward the new era in his stead.
Facts had proven once again that they hadn't done badly at all; in fact, they were far more efficient than him orchestrating every single detail in person.
The Alliance could not and should not expect to achieve every goal in a single bound like the Human Alliance of old, overdrawing centuries of the future to erect an infinitely magnificent utopia, only to collapse and leave behind a devastated wasteland.
Rather than soaring heights and plunging depths, he preferred his children to walk a sustainable path.
Of course, those were plans for the distant future; the gravity well wouldn't be activated until the end of the month.
As for the present, Chu Guang, cloaked in holographic camouflage, was sitting in a tavern in Kun Town, playing that horribly modified Kun card game with an old friend he hadn't seen in ages.
Honestly, Chu Guang had never imagined these chaotic rules could actually become popular.
One had to admit, Brother Mosquito was genuinely a marketing genius.
In comparison, Mole, who had copied games without altering a thing, seemed rather dull.
However, credit where credit was due, Mosquito's card-playing skills were truly abysmal. He was actually being thoroughly outsmarted by a newcomer like Chu Guang who had barely learned the rules.
Watching Mosquito struggle for half an eternity without laying down a single card, Chu Guang propped his chin on his right hand and couldn't help yawning.
"Hurry it up. My flowers have bloomed and withered waiting for you."
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Mosquito gripped a stack of cards and let out a sinister chuckle, making the Guards Corps bodyguards hidden among the crowd tense up so much their hands slipped into their pockets.
"...Jie-jie-jie! You've got some moves, bro. Who knew you could push me, the creator himself, into a corner?"
Amused by his wording, Chu Guang chuckled softly.
"Give it a rest. Accept your loss if you're going to bet. Concede if you can't take the heat."
"Concede? You're celebrating too early!"
Mosquito let out another wicked laugh, grabbed three cards, and laid them out on the table with leisurely villainy.
"If I sacrifice this Fusion and tribute two hand cards to summon the Administrator Riding Niko... how will Your Excellency respond?!"
Mosquito rarely whipped out this golden legendary card; usually, even if he happened to draw it, he kept it tucked away in his hand.
After all, poking fun at the Administrator in front of NPCs carried some risk, and it was easy to run into sore losers.
However, this guy before him understood every meme he dropped and even conversed with him in Mandarin, so he had to be a player too.
Since they were both players, whether someone could take a joke didn't matter.
Looking at the horizontal 8s for attack and defense, Chu Guang speechlessly tossed down his hand.
Damn it all!
It was bad enough the Legion printed him on playing cards, but this bastard had to follow suit!
He finally understood why none of the surrounding card players ever included this so-called "creator" in their games.
"Right, right, playing it like that, huh?"
Looking at Mosquito's triumphant grin, Chu Guang raised a hand and tapped twice by his ear.
The holographic light and shadow covering his face wavered, ripples spreading out from the bridge of his nose to reveal the true countenance hidden beneath the illusion.
Meeting that half-smiling gaze, Mosquito's smile instantly froze on his face.
As if he had run into a ghost walking down a dark road.
"Ad... Holy shit?!"
Just as Mosquito trembled in terror, bracing for divine retribution, Chu Guang didn't kick him offline. He merely picked up the card of "himself riding Niko" from the table.
The pale blue ripples coalesced back at the bridge of his nose, and Chu Guang reverted to his ordinary appearance once more.
"The Administrator is watching you. Accumulate more good deeds from now on, and don't try your luck."
Mosquito nodded in trembling terror, slapping his right fist to his chest at lightning speed, stopping just short of snapping to attention.
"Understood, Sir!"
Flicking the card in his hand, Chu Guang slipped it into his pocket and tossed a few hundred-dollar bills onto the table.
"I won't charge you for portrait rights. Consider this card bought by me. Don't use it again."
Looking at the one and only golden legendary, Mosquito nodded with an agonizing twinge in his heart.
"Damn... *cough!* I mean, this lowly one understands."
Chapter 911