Chapter 698: The Precarious Golden Galleon Port

Chapter 698: The Storm-Tossed Golden Gallon Port

The morning light spilled down from the heavens, gilding the man’s shoulders in a sacred gold.

Maclenn squinted, making out the face.

Its sharp, angular contours exuded a majesty that inspired awe without anger, much like the imposing, magnificent airship palace beneath his feet, while the deep-set eyes betrayed a cunning and cruelty that masked inner weakness, like the most common hyena on the wasteland.

He had heard the man’s name was Wutuo Xilan.

Yet for this emperor, exalted above ten thousand, Maclenn felt nothing but disdain.

Not to mention comparing him to the illustrious Marshal, even next to the one he had met in Dawn City, this fellow was no different from a monkey—just a crown perched on his head.

Perhaps his father had been a remarkable man.

But Valantians respect the strong, not daddies.

What baffled Maclenn even more was that the people here would worship a monkey, hailing him as their supreme emperor.

Had no one ever questioned whether he deserved it?

Maclenn could not fathom why the great Marshal would entrust weak, feeble civil officials to manage this land. This thing—he could take down this so-called Celestial Capital himself with a single airship, without needing the Eastern or Southern Legions.

They were born slaves.

Conquer this place, and every Valantian could have two of them—that was what the Legion ought to do.

But catching the glance from his adjutant, Maclenn forced himself to clear his throat and spoke with feigned courtesy.

“Your Majesty, I bring you the friendship of Triumph City.”

His slightly bowed forehead hid the sneer on his lips; he could not even be bothered to introduce himself, cutting straight to the point.

The adjutant, not expecting this stubborn fellow to keep up the act, quickly took over the conversation with a polite smile.

“Your Majesty, this is General Maclenn, whom we recommend to you. He has rendered outstanding service for the Legion in the desert, turning what was once the weakest Falcon Kingdom in Luoxia Province into the foremost power of the sands! With him as your military advisor, he will surely forge for you an invincible steel army!”

Looking down at the two Valantians standing at the foot of the steps, Wutuo Xilan stroked his thick beard, his face beaming with a radiant smile.

Especially that General Maclenn—the more he looked, the more he liked him!

The man possessed all the qualities of a fierce general: unruly and proud, with a high-bridged nose—a born commander!

Boro Province had no shortage of tall, stalwart men, but they still fell short compared to Valantians, bred for battle.

“May the gods bless my Xilan!” he said joyfully, raising his hands in a welcoming gesture.

“I have long heard of the general’s fame, and today I see he is truly extraordinary. I have prepared a banquet in the palace to welcome you all—please, follow me!”

As his words fell, an elephant-shaped sedan chair adorned with flower baskets came to a halt at the foot of the marble-carved steps. Four burly, dark-skinned men bent their knees slightly and set the sedan heavily on the ground.

Maclenn glanced at the four men.

“I have legs.”

He would not ride that ridiculous rocking cart—a toy for three-year-olds.

With that, he strode up the steps.

The adjutant, caught between laughter and tears at this eccentric man, glanced at the sedan chair beside him, then looked up at the emperor on high with a helpless expression, and reluctantly followed Maclenn up the stairs.

Wutuo showed no displeasure; instead, he was delighted to have met a “true Valantian.”

The group moved to the central palace of the Celestial Palace, passing through a corridor lined with blooming flowers, and entered a resplendent banquet hall.

They took their seats at the table.

Maclenn, burdened with thoughts, held his breath and watched the nobles and officials slowly take their places, tapping his finger on the table repeatedly. Finally, unable to contain himself, he leaned toward the calm adjutant and whispered.

“When do we tell them about the port?”

The adjutant was taken aback, looking at him in surprise.

“Why would we tell them?”

Maclenn stared at him in bewilderment for a long moment, then spread his hands, unable to find words, and communicated with his eyes instead.

‘Your allies, and you ask me why?’

Realizing Maclenn had misunderstood something, the adjutant cleared his throat softly and spoke in a low voice near his ear.

“When dealing with them, we have to use their philosophy. Golden Gallon Port is the emperor’s domain. If you want to befriend him, you can’t spot the problem before he does. He has his own appointed governor, his own intelligence network. Even without our warning, he’ll realize the issue—it’s just a matter of time.”

Maclenn, instead of getting angry, laughed. He found his temper had improved considerably; he could even ask questions patiently.

“So we just wait?”

The adjutant shook his head gently.

“No need to wait. What’s there to wait for? Do I look anxious? We can simply pretend the problem doesn’t exist. Besides, letting them suffer a bit is beneficial. Only when they’re hurt will they rely on us, trading their resources for our rifles… You’ll get used to it after a while here. When dealing with them, never be impatient, especially not more impatient than they are.”

Maclenn looked at the man speechlessly, finally giving up the argument. He picked up his teacup and took a gulp.

He longed to redeem himself, but here he saw no hope—only the torment of time and patience being ground away.

He suddenly regretted coming here…

…

While the empire’s Celestial Capital was still celebrating, the garrison at Golden Gallon Port was being beaten senseless by the Burning Legion, cowering in the slums, too afraid to come out.

They had discovered that as long as they stayed among the civilians, the port’s people wouldn’t shell them, only opening fire when they did.

Of course, that wasn’t a sure thing.

For instance, when they tried to set up artillery in a slum courtyard and fire at the docks, they were met with mortar shells and drone strikes.

The survivors living in the slums had learned their lesson. Seeing that sticking with these fellows only meant getting bombed, they naturally refused to stay near them. Spotting the garrison uniforms, they kept their distance, even watching the spectacle from afar.

Something similar had happened a month ago—those rifle-toting big shots had been chased through the streets by a white bear.

This time seemed even worse.

Men in exoskeletons had stormed straight into the governor’s mansion, not only routing the governor’s private troops but also tearing down the twin-sword flag hanging from the rooftop.

Not far from the mansion’s outer wall, residents from several nearby streets came out, curiously watching the commotion.

“How strange.”

“Which big shot did Lord Nihaq offend?”

“I wonder what gods protect these iron men, that they can fight so fiercely—even General Abinan is no match for them!”

“Could it be Valantians?!”

“Impossible! The Legion is our old friend—why would they attack us?”

“Then people from Silver Moon Bay?”

“Even more unlikely! How many people does Silver Moon Bay have altogether? Dressed up fancy as they are, they’re just dogs licking our emperor’s boots.”

“True, they still need to trade with us. They wouldn’t offend anyone, least of all us.”

“…Could it be the Alliance? Those madmen from a month ago seemed to be from the Alliance too.”

The survivors whispered among themselves, shoving each other to see who would go take a look, until finally they pushed forward a ragged, skinny, short Ratfolk youth.

Just then, several men with rifles slung across their chests and wearing exoskeletons pushed open the iron gate of the backyard and stepped out.

The survivors crowded along the muddy road scattered in all directions, vanishing into the nearby alleys, leaving only a thin, short young man standing in the middle of the street.

Deciding to show friendliness before putting on airs, Mistake unlatched his helmet visor, grinned, and crouched down slightly, waving a hand.

“You, come here.”

The young man stared at him nervously, but mustered his courage and walked forward.

Mistake looked at him.

“What’s your name?”

“…Ah Xin.”

“Good, Ah Xin. Which house is yours?”

The young man glanced back, pointed at the building with a red cloth curtain, then looked again at the man in the exoskeleton.

Mistake smiled and continued.

“How much is a house like yours worth?”

“One two-headed cow, or two pigs…” As if reading the intention in his eyes, the young man went on, “But you can’t buy it, sir. My grandfather, my parents, my four brothers, and my three sisters all live there. If you take it, we’ll have nowhere to go.”

No Family, standing nearby, blinked in surprise and instinctively raised his binoculars for a look. No matter how he squinted, it was just a tiny house of twenty-odd square meters, even if it had two floors.

Good grief.

How the hell did they cram so many people into that nook?!

Looking at the pitiful child before him, Mistake felt a bit troubled. This mission wasn’t as fun as he’d imagined.

After all, it was someone else’s home.

Even if it was an NPC’s.

After a moment’s thought, he crouched down, stared into the young man’s eyes, and continued.

“Listen, your lord pissed us off, so we’re standing here. Maybe my commander has a different story, but I won’t pretend we came in peace. Truth is, we’re here to beat people up—whether it’s the Gray Wolf Army or the Gray Dog Army, we’ll knock their teeth out until they beg for mercy and pay up before we leave.”

“I don’t want to tear down your home either, but there’s a war on now. Whether you like it or not, that place will soon be rubble. You’ve got two choices: take some money from us and go live somewhere else, or wait for the Empire’s army to requisition your house and get buried with it.”

Ah Xin was silent for a moment, knowing his objection would be useless, so he said bluntly.

“How much will you give us?”

Mistake did a rough calculation. The mission required clearing at least five hundred households—more was better, of course.

There were at most a thousand or so houses around here. With a budget of a hundred million, they could clear a huge area. So he spoke.

“A hundred thousand Xilan coins.”

Hearing such a huge sum, the young man’s breath quickened. He swallowed and asked.

“How many are you planning to buy… all the houses here? All for a hundred thousand?”

Mistake chuckled.

“That’s right. I won’t play games with you. After we close the deal, I want you to spread the word. Latecomers will miss out.”

Ah Xin said at once.

“It’s not enough.”

“Not enough?” Mistake blinked, looking at him with a strange expression.

Was this kid trying to extort him because he seemed easygoing?

As if reading his look, the young man swallowed nervously and explained in a rush.

“A hundred thousand Xilan coins can buy ten fat pigs. If you offer that much at once, they won’t agree. Everyone will want a higher price. And there’ll definitely be people who don’t even live here sneaking in, some might even take the money twice.”

Looking at this interesting young man, Mistake smiled.

“We’re not here to negotiate. You don’t think our guns are just for show, do you?”

“Then kill them—that’s the fastest way,” Ah Xin said without hesitation, his expression calm as he looked at the stunned man before him. “If you don’t want to do the killing yourself, let me help you! Give me ninety thousand per house, that’s enough. I’ll not only drive them out, but I’ll also tear down those houses… those mud walls that could serve as cover for Imperial soldiers, so they’ll have to lie on broken bricks for you to shoot at!”

Half-Year Wasted couldn’t help but ask.

“Aren’t they your own people?”

Ah Xin stared at him silently, then glanced sidelong at the pairs of eyes peeking curiously from the corners. He spoke slowly.

“I’m a rat-kin. They’re fox-kin, wolf-kin, pig-kin, cat-kin… so many kinds. None of them care if I live or die, and I don’t care about them. But you care about me. I can die for you. Whether it’s killing or burning, whatever you’re not comfortable doing, I’ll do anything.”

The four players exchanged glances.

Three pairs of eyes were filled with surprise; only one showed delight—their leader.

Mistake beamed, reached out, and ruffled the young man’s hair, patting the back of his head.

“Not bad, kid. You’ve got sense. We’ll do it your way—ninety thousand per building, and you handle the job. But remember, don’t make a big scene. Especially no killing or arson. We’re civilized people.”

A flicker of joy crossed Ah Xin’s face. He took a deep breath to steady himself and continued.

“I can do it. Give me three days! Of course… if there are stubborn ones who refuse to move, you’ll have to teach them a lesson.”

Mistake: “That’s a bit tricky. We have our rules—we can’t fire on unarmed people. At most, we’ll scare the guy for you.”

Ah Xin held out his hand.

“Then give me a gun! I need to protect myself and my family!”

Mistake glanced at No Family, who immediately understood. Grinning, he took out a pistol he’d lifted from the governor’s guards and handed it to the young man.

“…Remember to chamber a round and release the safety before pulling the trigger. And don’t point that thing at us. That’s how its last owner ended up.”

The moment he took the gun with both hands, the young man’s eyes lit up with surprise—even his gaze changed.

And not just him.

Even those watching from the alleys felt the same. Their expressions, once curious, gradually turned to fear, even dread.

They didn’t know what the rat-kin boy had talked about with the soldiers. They only saw him take a gun from their hands…

What did that mean?

The ones who had just beaten up the governor were now backing this kid?

The survivors swallowed hard. Some regretted not being the one to step forward; others just stared at the gun in fear, regretting the times they’d bullied him and his family.

Half-Year Wasted felt something was off, but then remembered this was the wasteland—hardly a civilized world—so he said nothing.

Carefully tucking the gun away, Ah Xin looked seriously at the man crouching before him and asked.

“What should I call you?”

Before Mistake could answer, No Family reached over and patted his shoulder, grinning.

“His name’s Tuning Fork. I’m Family. The two behind are Skyward and Wasted. If anything comes up, just find us.”

Mistake, who had been thinking up a cooler nickname for himself, rolled his eyes at the joker.

Too lazy to argue about the alias, he looked at the young man and said.

“We’ll be around here lately. If we’re not, you can ask around—someone will help you find us.”

Asin was stunned for a moment, then snapped back to reality and nodded, speaking earnestly.

“Tuning fork, family, scaling the heavens, wasted years… I’ve memorized them.”

With that, he tucked the pistol into his waistband, turned around, and sprinted off toward the slums, a man utterly transformed from the cowering figure he had been moments before.

Watching the boy’s receding silhouette, Half-Year Wasted spoke up.

“I don’t think this is a good idea. There might have been a better way.”

No Family, grinning mischievously, slapped him on the shoulder.

“But don’t you think it’s interesting?”

A creature living at the very bottom of the pyramid, bullied by everyone, suddenly tastes the flavor of power one day and turns the tables, riding atop everyone else’s heads.

He was curious to see just how far that young man could go.

For someone like him, who lived for amusement, this might make for a fine specimen to observe.

One Step to Heaven, who had remained silent all along, nodded in profound agreement.

“+1.”

…

On the other side, in the detention cell of the Port Security Bureau, Governor Nihak, handcuffed, was shoved and stumbled, crashing onto the cold cement floor of the cell.

“From today, this is your new home, Mr. Nihak.”

A man in an exoskeleton stood at the door, his tone dripping with mockery, then glanced at Sheriff Bihari and the two guards standing nearby.

“Keep an eye on him.”

Having fully undergone a shift in mindset and embraced his new identity, Bihari immediately pressed his right fist to his chest, his back ramrod straight, and declared,

“As you command, sir!”

Fang Chang said nothing, merely nodded, and walked out the door.

He was busy now.

Not only did he have to handle port affairs, but he also needed to inventory and tally the spoils.

Stranded at the port were not only nobles of the Xilan Empire but also some traveling merchants who had come from other regions to buy goods.

Their cargo and ships were stuck at the docks, unable to leave—some carrying livestock, spices, dyes, linen, and the like, while others bore the specialty of the Brahma Province: human cargo.

Since the Alliance had arrived here, they naturally couldn’t allow slave-trading vessels to depart. Soon, they would also shut down several concentration camps in the settlements and declare Alliance law in effect during the interim period.

Beyond that, there were imperial nobles trying to disguise themselves as merchants to slip away—these needed careful screening.

These men were both hostages and bargaining chips for negotiations with the Empire; they couldn’t be allowed to simply slip through their fingers.

In short, there was still a mountain of matters to attend to. Until he finished dealing with these troublesome trivialities, he had no time to bother with this fellow.

With the man’s departure, the cell fell silent, both inside and out.

Feeling three pairs of eyes fixed on him, Governor Nihak sensed cold sweat beading on his forehead and forced a smile onto his face.

“Mr. Bihari… what exactly is going on?”

“What’s going on?”

Bihari narrowed his eyes, sizing up the governor who had become a prisoner, his tone laced with mockery.

“You’re already squatting in here, and you need me to remind you?”

“Bihari! Watch your tone!” Nihak glared at the man who was looking down his nose at him, trying to pull rank, only to find it utterly useless.

This man, who had once fawned over him with every ounce of flattery, now seemed like a different person, glaring at him with a ferocious expression.

No—

He wasn’t even human!

He was nothing but a snarling bulldog!

Baring its stinking gums at its former master, frantically wagging its pitiful stub of a tail to curry favor with the new one.

Lifting his head arrogantly, Bihari looked down at the pathetic wretch slumped in the cell and said without ceremony,

“It’s you who should watch your tone, Nihak! The man standing before you now is the Sheriff of Golden Ganga Port! Apart from the Alliance’s people and the Alliance’s law, I’m the top dog here! If you don’t want to suffer, keep your tail between your legs!”

Nihak’s eyes bulged as he stared at the man.

“Have you lost your mind? Aren’t you afraid I’ll come after you once I get out?”

Hearing this, Bihari burst out laughing.

“Ha! Even if I were nice to you, would you let me off the hook when you get out? Even if you were willing, would the others be? Besides, whether you leave this place depends on the moods of those big shots up there.”

He paused, then continued,

“And they’ve promised to make me the Empire’s sheriff. Face reality—the Empire is finished! Hahaha!”

Ignoring Nihak’s murderous glare, Bihari laughed loudly and swaggered out of the prison, leaving only two lackeys standing at the door.

“You bastard!”

Nihak lunged at the cell’s barred door, gripping the rails with both hands, and bellowed at the guards at the entrance.

“Let me out! You traitorous dogs! Do you know who I am? I’m the governor here! The governor of Golden Ganga Port! Appointed personally by His Imperial Majesty!”

The two guards stood motionless, as if they hadn’t heard a word.

“Stop yelling, it’s useless. Do you see them paying you any mind?” A sigh came from across the cell, cutting through the barking cries.

Nihak gasped for breath and only then noticed a man lying in the cell opposite—someone he knew.

His pupils contracted slightly, and his voice trembled as he spoke.

“Dirang…”

“Long time no see, Governor.” Looking at the wide-eyed Nihak, Dirang gave a self-deprecating smile and offered a greeting.

Nihak’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he forced the words out of his throat.

“What the hell happened? Weren’t you supposed to be at French Fry Port? Why are you here?”

“What happened… Heh, I’d like to know that myself,” Dirang said, his expression complex as he gazed at a sliver of sunlight filtering through the iron window. It felt like the past few days had been a dream.

He and his men were supposed to be on the beach at French Fry Port, blowing in the sea breeze, eating fruit, and having fun with the Empire’s traitors. Instead, they hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the dock before mutants and the Alliance took turns smashing their heads in, and now they’d been tossed into a cell in Golden Ganga Port.

This was the most absurd part.

He’d never imagined he’d end up locked up here. At most, he’d thought he’d be sent to Dawn City as leverage against Duke Garava.

The Alliance not only arrested people on their own soil but even intended to put them on trial there. The humiliation was so great he felt death might be preferable.

“How many of them came…” Nihak stared at him nervously and asked the question.

Dirang replied casually, without much interest.

“Probably less than a thousand. I saw maybe five or six hundred.”

Nihak breathed a sigh of relief, a faint glimmer of glee crossing his face.

“Only five or six hundred… They won’t last long! Golden Ganga Port’s garrison has a full two thousand men, plus nearly ten thousand reserves we can call up. After that incident a month ago, I specially purchased artillery. General Abinan will teach them a harsh lesson!”

Watching that delusional fellow, Dirang curled his lips in self-mockery.

"Don't even think about it. Those guys are no match for them."

Nihake's expression froze, and he let out a dry chuckle.

"Mr. Dirang, aren't you being too pessimistic? After all, they only have five or six hundred men..."

"Do you know how many captured us?"

Before the governor could venture a guess, Dirang, as if knowing he would never guess correctly, continued, answering his own question.

"Thirty... it took just thirty men to capture us. I only learned this later, and those men weren't even their elite."

At least two hundred had come ashore that time, yet they were beaten so badly by the group on the bank that they never even had a chance to fight back.

What shattered him even more came later.

Those mutants who had routed them in panic were slaughtered like chicks before another group of men armed to the teeth with steel.

The two sides were simply not on the same level.

From the very start, they should never have provoked this monster, let alone meddle when this monster was fighting another beast.

After hearing Dirang's account, a trace of despair crept onto Nihake's face, and his voice trembled involuntarily.

"So we have absolutely no chance?"

"I don't know."

Dirang shook his head, sighed, and continued.

"Perhaps His Majesty the Great can come up with a brilliant idea, but you and I, stuck here, are utterly helpless now."

The Gray Wolf Army stationed by the Yongliu River might be able to save them.

But the problem now is that only the Emperor can command those troops, and the Emperor may not even know what has happened.

Just as Governor Nihake and Dirang stood speechless before the iron bars, a dense crowd was packed before the cordon in the port district.

Among them were merchants from Jingalun Port, merchants from other places, and also the owners, captains, and sailors of the cargo ships docked at the wharf.

Last night, the master here was still His Majesty the Emperor, but at daybreak, the Double-Sword Flag hanging at the port was torn down, and nothing new was put up.

Most of their fortunes were sitting on those docks.

Anxiously staring at the soldiers armed to the teeth, they all waited for an explanation...