Hero

[You Brahma people, calm down! I gave you supplies so you could check the Alliance, so you could become 'our South Sea Alliance'—not so you could butcher yourselves! Good grief, even I can't bear to watch this anymore! —Eastern Empire, Telegram] [Understood! Understood! We'll pass down the order immediately: kill as few as possible! —Snake State, Telegram] [...... —Eastern Empire, Telegram] ... Dawn City, outside the airport. Soldiers clad in exoskeletons stood in full readiness, while nearby players and River Valley survivors watched the spectacle with relish. "Here they go again." "Tsk, tsk..." "Where's the train? Somebody bring over a train." "Don't be like that... they're pitiful people too." "Pitiful? I don't think so. They ate the Family Association's grapes, and now they want to spit out the skins? Why do they always expect to have it both ways?" "Haha, dead... weren't these the same people singing Zayed's praises when he first showed up?" "I didn't see that myself, but looking at bound copies of the Golden Gallon Port Survivor Daily, they really didn't like Rasi and Absaik." "Then isn't this perfect? Both sinners have been ousted. Why are they unhappy again?" "So hard to please." Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd. In the distance, Duke Garava shook his head and sighed at the sight. In the center of the onlookers, a group of well-dressed people knelt prostrated on the ground, their foreheads pressed firmly into the mud. Their status was clearly not low, yet their posture was humbled all the way into the dust. They held signs listing various crimes of the Family Association. Snake grass, fraud, proselytizing, and a whole mess of other things, real or imagined. What Chu Guang found both amusing and exasperating was that these people had apparently reached their wits' end—they even blamed the Family Association for the death of an intellectual named Niyang. Some signs even claimed the Family Association was colluding with the Enlightenment Society, the Church of the Torch, and Gaia. It had truly taken quite some rack of brains for these literati to conjure up so many charges. Not far away was another group protesting Shava—"Mammoth people"—who had also listed a series of crimes, including the recent 1,500 Massacre. Some even pinned Rasi's death on Shava, attempting to use their imaginary legitimacy to convince Chu Guang to send troops to discipline him. It seemed the version had updated. Chu Guang vaguely remembered that last time, they had opposed Rasi and Absaik while supporting the Family Association and the Moon Clan Resistance. These scholars had practically extolled Zayed into a Mahatma in the newspapers, lionizing several elders of the Moon Clan Resistance as saviors. The elders failing to take power was likely a miscalculation on their part—after all, Rasi hadn't carried out a thorough purge as they'd hoped, failing to push through a "version update" for the Moon Clan Resistance on their behalf. Yet Zayed was someone they had lauded themselves, and now they refused to acknowledge him. Of course, another possibility couldn't be ruled out: those who praised Zayed had already run to Tiandu to welcome their holy lord. And those who hadn't fled to Tiandu—or had run in the opposite direction straight here—weren't they just his anti-fans? Two separate matters done by two separate groups. They clearly could have banded together for something big, yet they joined hands to do something where everyone lost. Looking down at the crowns of their heads, Chu Guang felt both pity and a touch of ruefulness, though no regret. They weren't all acting out of self-interest; in fact, the vast majority were not, without question. Just as when Rowell created the red soil—could that have been for personal gain? That was sacrifice! That was martyrdom! If he hadn't created that red soil, surviving the wasteland era wouldn't have been difficult at all; he might even have outlived the first lord of Boulder City. But whether that was smart was another matter entirely. Chu Guang originally intended to leave without a word, but knowing these people wouldn't get their way, they might very well chase after him and try to block a train again. For the sake of Alliance public property, he stopped in his tracks. "Do you know what I think?" Hopeful faces finally looked up, eyes brimming with desperate expectation. The impartial magistrate had finally taken notice! Yet Chu Guang's next words plunged everyone kneeling there into despair. "You are Zayed before taking power. You are the Family in opposition." The man kneeling at the very front choked on his breath, wearing a look of sheer betrayal as he stared in disbelief. "How... how could you say that about us?" Judging by his clothes, he was probably an intellectual, but now he could hardly bother maintaining his dignity. Not just him—the crowd prostrated on the ground began stirring with righteous indignation. Chu Guang, however, looked at him and the crowd behind him expressionlessly. "Because he did the exact same things you did. He just wasn't as lucky as you—he left before he could even see me." The man was taken aback, clearly unaware of this past event, and the rest quieted down as well. Chu Guang continued in a measured voice: "Money, technology, ideology, culture, talent, factories, railways, schools, tanks, aircraft, artillery, and even the 'Manager's Log' that Rowell and others didn't write or forgot to write—we filled in as much as we could for you. What else are you unsatisfied with?" "Our volunteers even held off the Southern Legion for you. What else do you want us to do? Do you want to be our colony that badly?" "You never even asked the survivors of Brahma Province for their opinions. Because you think yourselves clever, you treated yourselves as their fathers and them as your subjects. You blamed them for listening to others instead of you—no wonder they rejected you." "You aren't even as good as Zayed. Whether he truly did it for 'family' or not, at least he went into every single household to coax them and paint grand visions. And you? Kneeling in Dawn City, begging the Alliance to love you one more time?" Brahma Province was essentially an unnumbered Vault, the largest Vault on this wasteland. His players had tried to awaken hibernating comrades from there, and indeed succeeded in waking a few. Unfortunately— "No one is innocent—not you, not the people you abandoned, and not the people who abandoned you." "In Alliance law, this is called complicity in crime." "However, we have no obligation to judge you. Your legitimacy does not come from anyone's approval; it comes only from yourselves, and those who punish you will be yourselves as well." "Starting from children as tall as a cartwheel, they will spend the rest of their lives paying for the crimes committed, until an entire generation completely dies out in a cycle of frenzy and terror." "We have no interest in participating in what remains." "Since you chose this path yourselves, walk it to the end." ... If the residents of Boulder City had abandoned Alyssa back then, Malvin would never have driven cartloads of grain back to save them, and the players would never have extended a helping hand, choosing instead to watch their hideous forms freeze into ice sculptures. If that had happened, the vast majority of Boulder City residents would have perished in that winter of despair. Perhaps a few culprits might have survived by sheer luck, but what awaited them would never be a good end. Most people, upon hearing their story, would have simply said, "Good riddance." Yet now, the residents of Boulder City had not only survived that harsh winter and stepped into affluent lives, but also had spare time to mess around alongside the players, sharing surplus resources with others in need to achieve self-fulfillment. By the time they came to the realization, they were no longer the wastelanders struggling desperately just to survive. Good people don't necessarily live long, but in the end, good deeds bear good fruit. And the reverse held true as well. At this moment, the residents of Tiandu lined the roadsides, waiting in welcome for their new monarch, entirely unaware of what tribulations the rest of their lives would bring. Gopal and Shahrukh were the first to arrive. The former was the supreme commander of the Gray Wolf Army, commanding a hundred thousand elite troops; the latter was the hollowed-out supreme commander of the Snake State War Zone. Behind them stood Myriarch "Butcher" Pikli, the distinguished hero of the defense of Tiandu. Absaik had already been ousted by the committee. From the moment he lost control of the Northern Field Army, he had been automatically excluded from Tiandu's core circle of power; even the provincial governor would no longer take his calls. The victor was decided. In everyone's eyes, Absaik, who had issued two appointment orders to a single Snake State, had ultimately dropped a rock on his own foot, while Shahrukh, whose belly could swallow an elephant, was the shrewd strategist who trusted his subordinates and commanded superior tactics. Looking at the strutting Shahrukh, Gopal was still pondering how to give the man a show of force—flaunting his military might while demonstrating loyalty to Zayed, competing with the supple Sava for the position of heir apparent. Little did he suspect that an exaggerated, slanderous secret telegram had already been dispatched to Snake State via Tiandu's underground network, causing Zayed's face to darken. Seeing that the Patriarch had developed murderous intent, the harmless-looking Sava finally breathed a sigh of relief, temporarily stashing his newly penned confession back into a drawer to wait. He knew that whether Gopal or Shahrukh went first, he had at least made it into the finals... Furthermore, having recently taken charge of internal affairs, he had heard of a technology capable of influencing fetal brain development and activating prehistoric genetic diseases hidden within DNA code that would normally remain unexpressed. This was a byproduct of clone cannon fodder research. In the past, the Wilantes had wanted to use this technology to mass-produce Awakened, replacing the unstable Awakened potion that also harmed fertility. However, they found that all the births resulted in premature, deformed infants inferior even to standard clone cannon fodder, completely useless in real combat. Thus, this superfluous research had been abandoned. Yet Sava, as an "adopted son," had entertained certain thoughts upon hearing about it. It just so happened that His Majesty of the Eastern Empire was recently displeased with Zayed. Perhaps he could ask his brothers over there to help search for it, to see if they could reach a mutually delightful outcome... ... Haiya Province, Settlement No. 1. Little Ruby was playing with wooden blocks at home when she accidentally knocked down the castle she had just built. Thinking of her entire morning's effort ruined, she couldn't help sobbing sorrowfully. Hearing her daughter's cries, Margery, who had just set breakfast on the table, hurried over. She dotingly lifted Little Ruby from the floor and patted her back soothingly. "There, there, don't cry... Mommy will help you build an even bigger castle later." A child was a child after all. Especially at Ruby's age, where memories were fleeting. Though the incident at West Sail Port had terrified her, thanks to Mr. Isher, everything had reached a peaceful conclusion. With time, that adorable little angel had returned to their side. Hearing the commotion in the living room, Arman returned from the foyer after retrieving the newspaper. Looking at mother and daughter, a gentle smile appeared on his face. "Let me play with Ruby. You're pregnant; crouching on the floor isn't convenient for you." Because his wife was pregnant, he had slowed his pace of business expansion recently, handing many matters over to subordinates rather than charging on the front lines himself. The war likely wouldn't last much longer. Recently, quite a few capable young Wilante men had arrived at Settlement No. 1. He felt he should give those younger men some opportunities, freeing himself from his hectic life to properly accompany the family he had neglected for too long. Evidently unwilling to let her "powerful and capable helper" off the hook so easily, Little Ruby, nestled in her mother's arms, rolled her eyes and had a sudden inspiration. "We can... we can raise the castle up! Build the castle on the table! That way Mommy won't squish little brother! And Ruby... can stand on a chair!" "Haha! Truly Mommy's clever little Ruby, already learning to look out for Mommy!" Margery laughed, beaming with joy, and kissed Little Ruby happily. She raised her eyebrows proudly at her husband, then looked down at Ruby and said softly, "But Mommy only just got pregnant; it might not be a little brother. If it's a little sister, Little Ruby has to treat her well too, okay?" "It's definitely a little brother!" Little Ruby looked at her mother solemnly, turning thoroughly serious as if it were an undeniable fact. "I saw him in my dream yesterday! I even promised him, telling him not to cry, that his big sister would protect him from now on and build a super big castle for him!" Looking at her innocent yet earnest demeanor, Margery chuckled fondly and gently tapped her daughter's dainty nose. "No wonder you brought out the blocks Uncle Henk gave you first thing this morning. So it was to build a new home for him." Placing the newspaper on the dining table, Arman smiled and stroked his daughter's hair. "I could tell long ago—our little Ruby is definitely going to become an outstanding architect in the future!" Ruby blinked, looking curiously at her father. "An architect?" Arman nodded with a smile. "Yep! Someone who builds taller, grander houses, just like... your Uncle Henk." Strictly speaking, Henk didn't really count as one, but among all the elders his daughter knew, he was the closest to the construction industry. Speaking of which, the Wilante Street they currently lived on was the handiwork of the Henk Group. Although the project had met with fierce opposition from the Brahma people of Settlement No. 1 at the beginning, once the beautiful model homes went up, their bodies were very honest—they rushed to buy them, quickly turning into staunch supporters of the Wilante Street project. The friction between the Brahma people and the Wilantes thus shifted into internal friction among the Brahma people themselves. For both the radicals and the conservatives in the local representative assembly, this was, in a sense, a win-win outcome. For the former, the feelings of the "vulnerable group" were no longer repeatedly harmed; for the latter, Settlement No. 1's economy would experience rapid growth. And all Henk had paid was a small discount on interest. In fact, that cost wasn't even borne by his Henk Group, but by Philip Bank, whose entire fortune was tied to Henk Group's real estate projects. The jeweler who had fled Evernight Port had practically become Henk's lackey now, whereas before, their social standings had been the complete opposite. Arman didn't know whether to call Henk clever or cunning. That man seemed incapable of sitting still. Recently, he had suddenly dreamed up the idea that a baby boom was coming across the wasteland, proposing to expand into toy manufacturing and using the quality of Henk Group's real estate projects to guarantee the quality of children's toys... though the moment the idea surfaced, it had been squashed by his investors. Yet Arman felt it might genuinely become a decent business opportunity. Thanks to the Vault residents, children of the New Era no longer had to scavenge trash across the wasteland like their fathers. Apart from textbooks, they could have finer things to burn their boundless energy, develop their intellect and hands-on skills, and leave behind beautiful childhood memories. Perhaps he could sponsor Henk with some money for this endeavor. Shipping profits weren't as high as before... Just as Arman fell into contemplation, he met two pairs of teasing eyes. "Darling, are you thinking about work again?" "Daddy definitely fell into a pile of money again!" Looking at the mother and daughter staring intently at him, Arman quickly offered an appeasing smile and denied it. "No, how would I dare... Come on, let's eat. If we don't eat now, breakfast will get cold." His status in this household ranked only third; in a few months, it might drop to fourth. When that time came, another little angel would arrive at his side. By the Silver Moon Goddess above, he would surely cherish that little angel and give him the finest things in the world. With that, Arman hastily sat down at the dining table and picked up the newspaper he had just brought inside. When he saw the headline, his index finger trembled. For a moment, he couldn't believe his eyes. Isher... Was dead? Settlement No. 1's *Survivor Daily* hadn't put the news on the front page, but it occupied the second page, accompanied by a photograph of the young officer. A bright smile lit his face, his arm draped over another man's shoulder—the other man was likely the commander of the Death Corps... It was probably an old photo from the great victory at Akale County. That had truly been a brutal battle; the 3rd Myriad had been nearly wiped out back then, with some decurions promoted to chiliarchs in just two days. Now, the photo had turned black and white, seemingly marking the end of an era. The spoon adding sugar to the cup clattered to the floor. Margery suddenly covered her mouth, her reddening eyes welling with tears. "...Mommy?" Sitting on her chair swinging her legs, Ruby tilted her head, wondering why Mommy had dropped the spoon, but still hopped down with a little grunt to pick it up. Not wanting her child to see her lose composure, Margery pushed back her chair, stood up, and rushed into the kitchen. Watching his wife flee into the kitchen, Arman quietly put away the newspaper on the table, then said gently to Little Ruby: "Mommy forgot the milk... Daddy will go help her find it. Can Ruby stay here like a good girl?" Little Ruby nodded blankly, but something seemed to trigger an unpleasant memory, and fear surfaced on her face. "Okay... but you have to come back." Realizing he might have frightened the child, Arman quickly crouched down and gently stroked her head. "Daddy and Mommy are right at home... We aren't going anywhere today. We'll stay right here with our sweet little Ruby." Watching Ruby nod with gathered courage, Arman hurried into the kitchen. Seeing his wife standing by the sink, weeping into her hands, he placed his arm around her shoulders. He said nothing, only patting her shoulder softly as if comforting a child. After about five or six minutes, the resilient mother finally raised her tear-blurred eyes. "Why... why did it turn out like this? Hasn't their war already ended?" Not knowing how to comfort his wife, Arman remained silent for a moment and sighed softly. "I'm just as bewildered as you are... But I think, if it were him, someone who could escape a lethal dead-end like West Sail Port—and escape while leading everyone with him—how could he fail to escape the current situation?" Put that way, perhaps this ending was also his own choice. Yet in the end, he still couldn't comprehend why the Brahma people would kill him. He was their hero, after all! This was perhaps something he, as a Wilante, could never understand. Julius had failed, triumphed, acted heroically, and acted vilely; he hadn't even been a Wilante, and had very likely participated in the crimes of the Defense Department of the War Reconstruction Committee... Yet none of that prevented them from remembering him, along with his glory and faults, and building a magnificent temple to commemorate that great liberator. Then again, perhaps Marshal Julius wasn't worthy of the Brahma people, and perhaps even the Manager of the Alliance wasn't worthy of them. Perhaps they had found deities more deserving of their worship. "...Regardless, this is the collective choice of all of them... We should respect it." He planned to make a trip to Golden Gallon Port to find Isher's former superior, Anwo. That man had also received Isher's help and was likely immersed in grief over losing a friend right now. Beyond mourning, there was still something the living could do for that gentleman. At least preserve his remains. Many of that gentleman's compatriots lived in Settlement No. 1; like the displaced Wilantes, they were all victims of that war. Henk could not understand their hatred for Wilantes, but having been saved by Isher, Arman could understand. He would build a tomb for the hero who had saved everyone, erect a statue for him, just as their forebears had done. If the War Reconstruction Committee didn't want him— Then let the Wilantes commemorate him! Arman firmed his resolve, and he was not the only one. "...Darling, I have an idea... I think... maybe we can do something..." Looking at Margery's red, swollen eyes, Arman held those warm shoulders and gently stroked her smooth hair. "I know what you mean. Perhaps this isn't just our thought and Little Ruby's, but the will of the Silver Moon Goddess as well." It was a brave, kind, unyielding, and wise name. It had once belonged to a great hero—or rather, a warrior. He hoped their child would be like that person: possessing a burning heart, waiting for no one's salvation, but becoming a torch to illuminate himself and others. "If it's a boy, let's name him Isher." ... Golden Gallon Port. The study of a certain house on Tulip Street. Staring at those glaring lines of text, Ah Xin felt dizzy, nearly slumping in his chair. "Truly... bullying us too far!" Just as he had done long, long ago, he slammed the newspaper onto the desk. Yet the feeling choking his chest was not rage, but bleak desolation. Kunar stood beside him and said in a low voice: "Boss, the assassin who murdered Rasi is named Udi. He was a middle-ranking officer in the Stormtroopers' intelligence office, deeply trusted by Rasi... According to our investigation, he used his position to feed plenty of intelligence to the Family Association." After Rasi died, Shava asked them for help. Kunar took the core members of the Assassin Gang who had previously withdrawn from West Sail Port to help the authorities handle dirty work they couldn't do openly. Such as purges. Insiders couldn't do this; only outsiders could. And as it happened, the Assassin Gang had ties with Rasi. Udi was an orphan, but his contacts were not. One of them had even fled ahead of time to Golden Gallon Port with his whole family. However, the Assassin Gang didn't let him step ashore; with a single word, they had the boatman divert the entire family to Banana Head Bay. That was the Assassin Gang's turf. Kunar didn't even need to use torture; a single sentence got the man to confess everything: "Confess, and your death clears the debt. Don't confess, and you pay it off: the old and young into dog cages, your wife and daughter entertaining guests on the boat at ten gallons a turn until they drop dead." Hearing that, the man dropped to his knees on the spot. Truth be told, Kunar had never done something so depraved. The boss always admonished them to act with dignity and never push things to extremes. But the thought of what these traitors had done infuriated him enough that he might really have crossed his own bottom line. Fortunately, their faith wasn't that steadfast either. After all, if they were truly devoted, they wouldn't have lit a fire and run; they would have died as martyrs. A glint of ferocity flashed through Kunar's eyes as he lowered his voice: "Boss... should we take out that Udi?" Ah Xin stared up at the ceiling, closing his eyes in thought. After a long silence, he shook his head. "No need. If he still had value, Shava wouldn't have let him leave... Since Rasi said to spare his life, let him return to Tiandu. Let him see with his own eyes the 'great deeds' he's done." Zayed would never admit to ordering the assassination, especially since those fools in the Moon Clan Resistance had already jumped out to claim credit, each eager to take a bite of Rasi's flesh and pose as the hero who nipped the "Great Moon King" in the bud. Thinking about it, returning to Tiandu wouldn't bring that fellow a good end anyway, so why do Zayed a favor? Dying as a traitor amidst self-satisfied delusions was an ending far more fitting for him. Wasn't he a traitor, after all? As for the Moon Clan Resistance, Shava would naturally deal with them. Having just lost his father, he wouldn't stop at killing only 1,500 people. Yet doing so was right. The State of Brahma was no Boulder City; without rolling heads, even the Brahma people themselves wouldn't be satisfied, believing that an incomplete purge was no purge at all. In retrospect, it truly hadn't been thorough enough. What was more, Shava soon had to face Zayed marching north. Grove was eyeing them hungrily from Lion State with eight hundred thousand troops, ready to mobilize another eight hundred thousand at any moment! Meanwhile, the troops Mammoth State could field were fewer than six hundred thousand—they couldn't withstand another stab in the back. Only this "True Great Moon King" chosen by the Mammoth people could hold back the "True Rowell" chosen by the Brahma people. Contemplating the future fate of the Brahma people, Ah Xin kept his eyes shut, unable to bear looking. "Close the door. I want to be alone for a while." Kunar nodded silently, turned, left the study, and softly shut the door. "...If I had known this was how you'd end up, I would have forced you to stay and drink until we were both dead drunk before letting you leave." Left alone in the study, Ah Xin could hold back no longer. He buried his face in his hands and wept aloud. That was the regret of his life. He had ordered a table full of dishes for someone, but that person had looked down on a rat like him, leaving after only a few bites. At the time, he had actually felt glad. It was best that the Great Moon King looked down on rats who skulked in gutters doing dirty deeds. If a grand emperor had to associate with scum like him, using bad men to govern good men, and staying silent while thugs like "Vikram" disciplined his people, that would be the true disaster. Never mind Rasi looking down on him; he looked down on himself. Had there been any other way, he wouldn't have wanted to dabble in businesses in the gray zone. But he had had no choice. That day, dark clouds pressed over the city, and pair after pair of dull eyes stared at his back, pushing him, the weakest one, to the front, all hoping he would be shot by the "Iron Men" to draw first blood. And when the "Iron Men" didn't kill him and gave him a gun instead, those greedy eyes hoped he would slip up or bash his head against a wall, so they could pounce and strip him bare. He had had no choice but to throw caution to the wind, racing all the way to the position he held today. Nihak's governor's mansion was not far from his doorstep, yet the duke living there had never spared him a glance. Rasi was the only moonlight he could see from the sewer without having to raise his head. That fellow was certainly no saint, but he had his own shining brilliance, which was why Ah Xin had funded his cause without asking for anything in return. He had repeatedly warned his men to maintain decorum and dignity... all so that one day he could sit decently before that Moon King, laughing and drinking beneath the bright moon, without being regarded as a stain on the general's life. And Rasi hadn't let him down. Weathering the disdain and whispers behind his back from everyone, he had hacked out a future in Mammoth State that none of the little rats had ever seen! They were so close to succeeding! The emperor had been driven off, and the Wilantes had left! Yet just as that utopian dream was within reach, it collapsed in an instant! Ah Xin could no longer contain his turmoil. Frantic with grief, he wanted to tear down the entire study. "...Damn it all... I shouldn't have let you march north! Why bother saving those wretched bastards deserving a thousand cuts! Let them die! Let them slaughter each other to their hearts' content! Until their corpses fill the reed marshes of the Everflowing River!" "I ruined you! Ahhh!" Kunar stood vigil outside the study door, eyes closed in silence, like someone in meditation. He didn't listen to what the boss was doing inside, nor did he want to. He stood guard from daylight until dawn. When the door opened, he saw dark circles under Ah Xin's eyes and felt an ache in his heart. He felt no regret for Rasi—only that it wasn't worth it for his boss. "Boss..." Ah Xin patted his shoulder and whispered a few instructions into his ear. Kunar looked startled at first, but then his eyes grew brighter and brighter, and a savage gleam gradually spread across his scarred, meaty face. The little rat who once controlled tens of thousands of people with a single bullet—now some thought he could no longer swing a blade. Everything was just like that rainy day. His boss was back. "Understood." Kunar cupped his fists, strode outside, and used an index finger to loosen the necktie choking his throat. Ah Xin watched his retreating figure, an expression of cold detachment settling on his face. He had realized that as long as you didn't treat those people as human beings—treating them instead like donkeys with rings through their noses—everything became much easier. You had to lead them forward with a carrot, then whip their backsides mercilessly, watching them weep one moment and laugh the next, cheer one moment and throw tantrums the next. Yet the moment you treated them like humans and showed them kindness— Disaster struck. They would try to overturn the natural order. They would want to slice open your belly to see what was inside. Throughout that night, he had figured out only one thing. After running in circles, they had proven through their actions that they deserved this suffering. Himself included. The fault lay not with the students, nor the teachers, nor even the various classes swept up in it all. They had merely evolved an underlying logic serving the law of the jungle around the core of the One Thousand Pillars. This underlying logic was that the worse a person was, the better their fortune; the fewer bottom lines one held, the higher they climbed. Based on this underlying logic, they evolved a series of theoretical tools far more intricate than animal behavior. The former was the immutable Dao; the latter was the ever-shifting art. Together, they constructed an invisible cage, and the Family Association's repertoire was, at best, merely one of those arts. Unless this cage was shattered, never mind the Alliance's ideology—even if aliens from tens of thousands of light-years away came to do charity, it would be equally useless. Any advanced ideology would be converted into an 'art of ruling people' based on that core Dao. As for being 'devoured' by aliens, that was another matter. After all, once their very existence vanished, a cage attached to the spirit would lose its meaning even if it remained. Yet the Alliance was clearly unqualified to be these aliens. First, they didn't devour people. Second, if they truly blended together indiscriminately, who knew who would assimilate whom? Evidently, the Alliance had already realized the problem. Even conservative factions within were growing wary, just as an immune system begins rejecting nutrition it cannot digest. It was precisely for this reason that even if a god descended from the heavens and slaughtered the Family Association from top to bottom, it would solve nothing. Either the Coalition would turn into another Family Association, or Absaik would be driven into becoming the next Zayed, or his successor would be even more sinister and cruel than Zayed and Janusz combined... This wasn't some ethereal thing like destiny; it was stark, naked, and pragmatic civilization. Perhaps someone out there knew how to solve this puzzle, but he was tired, and he wasn't the man for the job anyway. He was just a fucking rat who happened to stand a little taller and piss a little further. Shava had lost a 'father.' He had lost both a 'mentor' and 'hope.' He no longer wanted to fund those miserable, degenerate wretches. Even if they won, they would only become the next Family. Nor did he want to think about matters so far away—outcomes he wouldn't live to see in this lifetime. Back to the sewer together. All he wanted now was immediate peace. And that was what he had instructed Kunar to do. If they couldn't hold a province— Then hold a city! "...The West Sail Port tragedy must not happen again. Mammoth City was a lesson: if you spare one person, you'll have to kill ten thousand; if you spare ten thousand, a hundred thousand die; if you spare a hundred thousand, a million are doomed!" "Notify every branch and lodge of the Assassin Gang: kill the Family Association whenever you find them. I won't listen to any excuses. Whoever takes their bribes or works for them, I'll wipe out their entire family!" "When dealing with hooligans, there's no need to mind your methods. If anyone wants Zayed to hold a memorial service for him, or wants to be Zayed's hero, I'll grant their wish." He would send his own family to Dawn City, and then fight them to the bitter end right here—until the day he could no longer lift a blade! Until he buried himself in his own coffin! He would be the brick upon the gravestone! "Whether Mammoth State holds or not, Golden Gallon Port must be held! Our real family, friends, and neighbors are here. Here are the family who truly exist for us." "As for the business at Banana Head Bay—" "Fuck it, I'm done with it!"