Chapter 839: The Gunshot That Shattered the Darkness

Chapter 839: The Gunshot That Shattered the Darkness

Things unfolded just as Old Stick had predicted—the one kneeling on the ground, wailing in grief, was indeed not that Abusek.

Instead, it was a man named Ma Wang.

The man first burst into a fit of sobs, trembling with rage, then drew his sidearm and aimed it at the perpetrator, Anwo.

Everyone present was startled.

Even Anwo, who knew this was all an act, felt a jolt of terror, worrying that this scoundrel might take the charade too far and silence him for good.

But recalling Isher’s instructions and Abusek’s promises, he forced himself to maintain a composed demeanor, standing there stubbornly without moving an inch.

“Damn it, this guy can’t die…”

Seeing the mission target about to bite the dust, Brother Dog muttered in a low voice, his eyes frantically signaling to Old Eagle beside him, asking what to do.

Old Stick, however, chuckled softly and coaxed him in a hushed tone.

“Relax, he won’t die.”

Mission targets never die in a cutscene.

Old Eagle thought the same, but he didn’t dare gamble on that probability. Responding to Old Dog’s call, he stepped forward and spoke in fluent Unionese, trying to mediate.

“Ahem! Everyone, calm down. Whatever your conflict is… are you pretending we don’t exist?”

I am, after all, an envoy of the Alliance!

Sure, the envoy’s credentials might be a bit dubious, but the Alliance’s name still carries some weight, doesn’t it?

As if hearing his unspoken plea, his words seemed to have some effect.

That Ma Wang indeed “calmed” down a little, lowering his trembling gun barrel by an inch, though not fully.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the hall, and Lion King Abusek finally arrived, albeit late.

Though he had orchestrated this coup himself, seeing Yanush slumped dead on the throne with eyes wide open still made Abusek’s heart clench.

That man who called himself “the one and only king under heaven” had died so ignominiously…

His face, twisted in agony, slowly contorted, vaguely resembling his own.

It was not a good omen.

He didn’t doubt he had done the right thing, but perhaps he had set a very, very bad precedent.

Abusek took a deep breath, driving the chilling hallucination from his mind, and looked at Ma Wang.

“Shahrukh, calm down… put the gun down first.”

Ma Wang glared fiercely at Anwo, but eventually clicked the safety back on and tossed the gun to the ground.

Anwo finally breathed a sigh of relief, unaware that his back was already drenched in cold sweat.

Even though he knew Shahrukh was a veteran who had been on the front lines and would never have an accidental discharge, having a loaded gun aimed at him still made his legs go weak.

It was pure human instinct.

The spot where the gun had pointed felt as if it had already been pierced through…

Abusek then turned to Old Eagle and the other Alliance envoys, bowing deeply.

“I apologize. This was supposed to be a moment to celebrate the friendship between the survivors of Bolo Province and Hegu Province, yet such an incident occurs on such a solemn occasion… On behalf of the survivors of Bolo Province, I offer you our apologies and sincerely hope you can understand.”

“Please trust me—we will definitely give you an explanation for this!”

Hearing these high-sounding words, Old Eagle couldn’t help but roll his eyes inwardly.

Do you think I don’t know this is an act?

But staging it at this moment was something he truly hadn’t anticipated.

Perhaps even the war correspondent who liked to stir things up hadn’t expected these people to be so reckless and act so decisively.

After a moment to compose himself, Old Eagle wiped the shocked expression from his face and spoke in a calmer tone.

“This is your internal affair, and we have no intention of meddling. But I still hope you can resolve issues in a more civilized manner, not with bloodshed every time… And frankly, I’m a bit shaken right now. The man we were just talking to died right before our eyes. I think my companions feel the same way.”

“I am truly sorry!”

Abusek lowered his head, his voice earnest as he continued.

“I fully understand how you feel right now, but I can promise you that building an equal nation in Bolo Province was not just the late king’s dream—it was the shared ideal of all of us. Even if he is gone, we will carry on the path he left behind for us.”

He paused, then added.

“Moreover, our stance and attitude toward the Alliance and toward you remain unchanged. His promises to you still stand, and we still yearn for your recognition.”

Looking at Abusek’s sincere face, Old Eagle was silent for a moment, then sighed.

“Yanush promised us nothing, but… if you truly seek our recognition, then at least make changes worthy of it.”

“As for today’s meeting, let it end here. I think you need some time to deal with the current chaos and decide which path to take next.”

With that, he exchanged glances with his companions, and they all headed toward the exit of the hall, temporarily leaving this place of trouble…

…

It began with a warehouse catching fire, then spread to the entire port, engulfing the settlement, and swept across half of Bolo Province like a wildfire, only to end abruptly in a sudden downpour.

That’s how most wildfires end.

In the epochs before civilization, the flames roaring through the mountains were merely nature’s cycle—born from a thunderclap and extinguished by the same.

The same was true for the Heavenly King’s Army.

Its birth was not entirely accidental, but it carried its own inevitability.

The thousand pillars standing in the City of a Thousand Pillars suddenly shuddered, like a midnight sweat.

They tried to break free from the curse that bound them, to tear themselves from the blood-soaked soil, shaking the mountains, scattering the beasts, and making the whole earth tremble…

It seemed to succeed.

At least it was spectacular.

But in that moment that should have been one of relief, a few pillars suddenly realized that what had bound them was never the bloody red beneath their feet, but the roots buried deep in the soil and the hands that clung tightly, refusing to let go.

That was the red earth in their hearts…

Or rather, their souls.

For an entire day, the whole Heavenly Capital was steeped in an atmosphere of fear and unease.

One moment, the Heavenly King’s Army was celebrating the arrival of the Alliance delegation; the next, they were suddenly tense for reasons unknown.

It was as if the music had stopped and ghosts had begun to seize people.

Bandages shifted from the left arm to the right; waves of armed soldiers rushed through the streets one after another.

They moved with clear purpose and swift action.

The commotion seemed even greater than the night of the palace assault!

But this time, no one knew who they were going to fight, or who they were going to kill…

People exchanged glances on the road, dared not speak, and dared not linger in the streets.

Vendors hastily packed up their stalls, shops shut their doors, and every household bolted their windows tight, afraid to let even a whisper escape.

The once-bustling market became as desolate as a graveyard outside the city walls, with only a few rats and cockroaches occasionally scurrying through the corners.

People spent the entire day in a tense atmosphere, until news finally emerged around noon the next day: Yanush’s guard captain had committed suicide out of guilt, and three of his six appointed cabinet members had been taken away, allegedly for looting on the night the city fell.

Even the survivors of the Celestial Capital who had endured the war found this reason utterly baffling.

Who hadn’t helped themselves on that night of the city’s fall? If that were the real reason, far more than three would have been killed.

Sure enough, even more explosive news was waiting in the wings: their cheaply acquired Heavenly King, Yanush, was dead!

No one had expected him to die.

And even more shocking, he had been shot dead on his throne by a thousand-man commander named Anwo, right in front of the Alliance’s envoys during a meeting!

The Yanush dynasty, which had stood for less than a week, crumbled into dust…

“Extra! Extra! Big news from the Celestial Capital! Yanush is dead!”

In the port district of Golden Gallon Port, a loud voice and hurried footsteps startled a flock of seagulls.

A newsboy with a satchel slung over his shoulder shouted as he ran through the streets.

Hearing the cries, passersby—whether in long robes or short jackets—stopped in their tracks and turned to stare at the boy in astonishment.

Yanush?!

That Heavenly King…

Dead?!

People crowded around, grabbing and snatching, buying up every newspaper from the boy’s satchel.

Suni, who worked as a foreign teacher at a nearby school, happened to be passing by. Seeing the rush for the extra edition, he pushed his way in and demanded a copy.

“Give me one too!”

Tossing four Gallons into the boy’s hand, he snatched the paper and scanned it—his eyes widening instantly.

*“Celestial Capital in Another Mutiny! Yanush Shot Eight Times, Dead!”*

Good heavens.

Even the headline alone was far more intriguing than that earlier interview with the “Last Emperor”!

[… The day before yesterday at noon, Yanush, leader of the Heavenly King’s army, was shot dead in the palace hall by his own thousand-man commander, Anwo, during a meeting with an Alliance delegation.

According to reports, Anwo was a reformist officer within the Heavenly King’s army. Influenced by publications of the Silver Moon Sect and pamphlets of the Workers’ Association during his time at West Sail Port, he advocated for the abolition of imperial power and promoted unity. Thus, he was deeply outraged by Yanush’s reactionary policies.

Just as the Alliance envoys arrived in the Celestial Capital, Yanush, with his silver tongue, twisted slavery into equality and evil into nobility, even claiming that evil and nobility were one and the same. Unable to bear it any longer, Anwo drew his gun, stormed into the hall, and executed him.

In this editor’s private opinion, while the act of vigilante justice was questionable, Anwo’s heroic spirit of sacrificing himself for righteousness is hard not to admire.

Before ten millimeters, all men are equal; even boundless power cannot stop a single bullet.

All those who commit vile deeds under the guise of justice should tremble upon hearing of Anwo’s righteous act!

Currently, Anwo has been imprisoned, his fate unknown.

However, the gunshot in the palace has sparked calls among reformist officers in the Heavenly King’s army to “purge the ranks and draw clear lines.”

Some radical reformist officers took the lead, launching mutinies to express support for Anwo, while settling scores with Yanush’s cronies and feudal remnants of the same faction.

According to insiders, a host of Yanush’s officers, including the “Bull King” Ami, were executed in this purge.

Beyond that, over ten thousand low-ranking soldiers and mid-level officers were also swept up in the purge.

Local residents reacted calmly to the purge.

Rumor has it that most of the dead were thugs who had committed atrocities in West Sail Port and the Celestial Capital, earning them no sympathy from the locals—some even applauded.

After two days of chaos, the situation in the Celestial Capital has been fully taken over by General Abusek, a representative of the reformist officers. As of this report, order has largely been restored.

In a public statement, Abusek declared he has no interest in the throne, only wishing for the light of unity to shine upon Bharat Province. Thus, borrowing the name of the Golden Gallon Port Federation, he has established the Bharat Federation.

As for himself, he will serve as the Federation’s first chairman and the first leader of the “Bharat Nation.”

Meanwhile, senior reformist officers like Shahrukh, Nigli, and Duvata have also taken high positions in the Federation and are leading candidates for the next leader.

According to relevant resolutions of the Bharat Federation, they will overturn all policies of the Yanush era and completely abolish slavery.

Henceforth, whether Sun Clan or Moon Clan, all will share equal personal freedom and rights as residents of Bharat Province.

Beyond abolishing slavery, Abusek’s measures include promoting public education, convening industry representatives to form committees, abolishing agricultural taxes, converting the Royal Mint into a joint-stock bank, and encouraging women’s participation in production.

Additionally, they have specially contacted our newspaper, welcoming us to open a branch in the Celestial Capital to strengthen exchanges between survivors of the Celestial Capital and Golden Gallon Port.

From an objective standpoint, compared to Yanush’s reckless rewards and half-hearted reconciliations, the Bharat Province Federation has shown a far more resolute determination for change.

Though the future remains uncertain, at least they are willing to start fulfilling their promises now and welcome us to oversee them.

Yet their earnest desire for progress moves all who hear it, even as it makes one worry for them.

Such sweeping reforms are nothing short of earth-shattering, but putting them into practice will surely not be easy.

Moreover, with the Heavenly King’s sudden death and the reformist officers going their own way to establish the Bharat Nation, cutting ties with the old banner, the entire Heavenly King’s army is now leaderless.

Aside from the five armies that joined the mutiny or were absorbed, seven armies remain in the field, still fighting under the name of the Yanush dynasty against the remnants of the old West Lan Empire.

These seven armies number over a million men, equipped with a large amount of standard legion gear, and remain a force to be reckoned with across Bharat Province.

Faced with the Celestial Capital changing hands once more and their allies switching flags, what choices will the “kings” of these seven armies make? This remains to be seen.

For more news on the Bharat Nation, our reporters and editors will keep you updated!]

Reading the entire report from start to finish, Suni finally grasped most of what had happened in the Celestial Capital. Yet his expression was half joy, half worry.

He could tell that the editor of the *Survivor Daily* must have been brimming with excitement when writing this extra edition.

Like someone bent over a desk, who by chance looks up and sees a swallow dart past the window.

His own feelings were the same.

Though he was a resident of Ring Island in the South Sea Alliance, he had been teaching here for nearly half a year and had grown attached to this land.

Indeed, he had come to regard it as his second home.

But precisely because of that—because he understood so well what the people here truly thought—he could not hide the trace of sorrow within his joy.

As the newspaper said, such sweeping reforms would not be easy to implement.

Every decision Abusek made required money, and the total sum was astronomical—even if all the wealth of Bharat Province were gathered and multiplied, it might not suffice.

Could it really be that simple?

“…Education is the foremost priority. I only hope that, in the end, whether it succeeds or fails, it won’t cool the faith and passion in the hearts of Bharat Province’s survivors.”

He sighed softly, folded the newspaper neatly, tucked it into his briefcase, and continued walking toward the school where he worked.

Just as he crossed Tulip Street, he saw a convoy of Alliance military trucks driving from the port’s warehouse district toward the suburban military base.

The trucks’ cargo beds were loaded with green-painted crates, undoubtedly filled with ammunition.

Over the past few days, heavy equipment had been landing at the port—tanks, self-propelled artillery, and the like.

Obviously.

This was the Alliance's response to the Legion's reinforcement of the western front.

Having once lived through a civil war, he suddenly felt a foreboding in his heart.

War.

It was drawing closer and closer...

...

Suny was not the only one who smelled gunpowder; the Boro Province was never short of clever people, and those too clever for their own good.

The drifting Wu Camel near the inland river port of Golden Port was the best proof.

Even the emperor, the last to catch on, could see the end was near, let alone everyone else.

Lately, survivors kept coming ashore from the Eternal River, while locals kept leaving Golden Port for the balmy Hundred Yue Strait or the war-torn Haiya Province, to the point that Alliance settlements had to repeatedly raise the bar for ID cards, even drawing criticism from some representatives as "turning into Ideal City."

This could indeed be called criticism, after all, the Alliance's banner was the unity of suffering survivors, and raising the threshold for ID cards undoubtedly shut those very people out.

Though they faced criticism from the Dawn City representatives, local representatives had their own reasons.

After all, the administrators had said: only by uniting your own people can you unite more.

Every community has a population capacity limit, determined by local public resources; they couldn't just abandon refugees to fend for themselves on the wasteland, watching them be assimilated into raiders.

A house meant for two could squeeze in one extra, but suddenly stuffing five or six in was unbearable for anyone.

The settlements didn't oppose helping survivors, but they had to act within their means.

As for rescuing survivors, that was the central government's affair.

They agreed to spend precious taxes on stabilizing the Boro Province and building hospitals and schools for Golden Port's survivors, hoping to reduce the number of refugees there.

Of course, they didn't want none at all, but a steady, trickling flow would be best.

Chu Guang was happy to see the debate between Dawn City and local representatives, so he didn't step in.

Even if the representatives argued until red-faced in meetings, it wasn't because of deep-seated hatred; their starting point was always to make the Alliance better.

One person's wisdom is always limited, even with his little players included.

He couldn't always think of everything, but where he fell short, others could fill in—that was enough.

Even if no one thought of it, it didn't matter; a fall would make things clear.

Standing up is more important than running fast; it's through falling that people learn to walk and run...

But while Boro Province's survivors were scrambling eastward, there were also those swimming against the current.

Like Niyang.

After breaking with Duke Garawa and resigning from the embassy, he immediately boarded a train to Silver Moon Bay, then a steamer to Mammoth Prefecture.

He didn't go to Golden Port.

The people there were doing well, all trades thriving, arts flourishing—they didn't need him; his presence would only be icing on the cake.

Instead, Mammoth Prefecture needed him more—or rather, the entire Boro Province needed him!

The failure of the "New Culture" movement in West Sail Port revealed many problems; the residents of Boro Province couldn't arm themselves with borrowed ideas.

The Silver Moon Sect was the secular achievement of Silver Moon Bay's residents; it didn't even suit the Lion Kingdom, which shared the same language and culture, let alone a purely foreign nation like the Xilan Empire.

"Pol" was the same.

It was a monument raised by the survivors of Boulder City; it could be a torch to guide their way, but they had to light their own torch.

The survivors of Boro Province originated from a thousand clans and a thousand gods; before secularizing, they had to confront their own faith and culture, not erase those imprints into nothingness.

In short!

They needed their own newspaper!

And schools!

Only by reclaiming their soul could they hope to stride into a new era!

Stepping off the steamer, suitcase in hand, Niyang stood on the pier of the diocese.

His travel-worn face was etched with exhaustion, but his bright eyes sparkled with light.

He had been to Mammoth City before, but it had changed so much he barely recognized it.

Yet that very change filled him with hope for his mission.

Just then, a hearty laugh rang out from the harbor.

"Haha, welcome! Niyang! Or should I call you Mr. Rat instead!"

Pulling his gaze from the crescent moon atop the distant church roof, Niyang looked toward the laughter and saw a man in crisp uniform striding toward him with open arms.

It was Laxi.

In person, he wasn't handsome, but he was young enough, and as spirited as the photo on the newspaper's front page, so Niyang recognized him at once.

Before coming, he had indeed written to the authorities, but he never expected Laxi to greet him in person.

"General, call me whatever you like; a name is just a label." Facing the fervent Laxi, Niyang felt a bit shy, not daring to return the warm embrace, and only extended his right hand.

"Haha! Then I'll stick with the name!"

Laxi didn't mind; he smoothly withdrew his arms, shook Niyang's hand, and gave it a vigorous pump.

"Brother Niyang—ah, Mr. Niyang—I'm a rough man, and my words might not always be pleasant. If you feel uncomfortable, just say so! Even curse me out!"

His face beamed with eager warmth; if Asin were here, he'd surely be stunned.

After all, this guy wouldn't even share a drink, downing his own and leaving, yet now he was acting like an old friend with this first-time acquaintance, even calling him brother.

Seeing Laxi's overbearing enthusiasm, Niyang smiled sheepishly and quipped.

"Since the general says so, I won't stand on ceremony."

Laxi waved with a laugh.

"No need for ceremony! Mammoth Prefecture needs people like you!"

He was a rough man.

Apart from fighting, he could only copy Golden Port's homework; he couldn't do much else.

Mammoth Prefecture's development relied entirely on help from the talents of Golden Port and Silver Moon Bay—he knew his limits.

That was why he desperately wanted Mammoth to have its own talents.

Especially someone as capable as Mr. Rat!

So he kept his posture low, perhaps even overdoing it.

Niyang didn't know what was on his mind; seeing him in good spirits, he seized the opportunity.

"Since the general says that, I'll boldly ask for two more things."

Laxi clapped him on the shoulder and laughed.

"Name it! I'll give you the green light all the way!"

Niyang shook his head.

"There's no need for a green light all the way; just follow the rules written in black and white."

He paused, then looked at Raxi and continued earnestly.

"There is no shortcut to salvation—only one path: to enlighten the mind. The two things I've come to Mammoth Prefecture to do today are both related to this: one is to establish a school, the other to start a newspaper."

He had made a good deal of money from the Xilan Empire by running the *Dawn Garden Gazette*, and now it was time to spend that money on its residents.

Hearing that this gentleman had brought along "the solution to the problem," Raxi's face lit up with joy.

"No problem! In Mammoth Prefecture, anyone can do this, so of course you can too!"

Watching Raxi thump his chest in assurance, Niyang gave a meaningful smile.

"Then I must say this upfront: the school I want to run is a great academy like Camp 101, and the newspaper I want to start is one that dares to speak the truth like the *Survivor Daily*. Both of these are independent of the Alliance system, so I hope they will also be independent of Mammoth Prefecture's system. General, are you willing to part with that?"

Raxi laughed and said.

"Why wouldn't I be willing? Not only am I willing, but I'll also approve funds for you to do it!"

Niyang shook his head.

"No need for funds. I've... saved up some ill-gotten gains before, enough for this. Once the school and newspaper are on track, they can sustain themselves. I have no other request—only that you write what you've said into law, or leave me a written document, so that it can serve as evidence later."

"No problem!" Raxi agreed without a second thought, seeing nothing amiss.

Upon hearing this, Niyang breathed a sigh of relief and bowed deeply.

"Then on behalf of the thousand tribes of the Boro Province... I thank you."

Seeing Niyang bow to him, Raxi quickly reached out to lift him up.

"What are you doing! I told you I'm a rough man, I can't stand you bowing to me!"

Niyang insisted on finishing the bow, then took a step back.

"No, no, you misunderstand. This is what I call 'first courtesy, then force'—please don't think I'm being polite."

Raxi was taken aback, then indeed laughed heartily.

"Haha! A fine 'first courtesy, then force'! Alright! Then let me learn from your military tactics, sir!"

Watching the two chatting and laughing, the guards standing by the harbor exchanged glances, their faces full of disbelief.

Was this really their decisive and ruthless general?

It felt as if he had become a different person...