Chapter 780: People's Joys and Sorrows Are Not Connected

Chapter 780: Human Joys and Sorrows Are Not Shared

"……Mr. Liszt, please reconsider! I can personally assure you that the concerns you harbor will absolutely never transpire in White Elephant City."

In the Dawn City embassy quarter, within the residence of the Xilan Empire.

Pouring a cup of black tea for Liszt themselves, Duke Garawa spoke with an expression of earnest sincerity—bordering on obsequiousness.

Yet, having heard his plea, Liszt merely offered a soft, gentle sigh.

"And how, pray tell, do you intend to guarantee the validity of your present words?"

Duke Garawa’s eyes burned with intense resolve as he replied.

"I am prepared to swear upon the God of the White Elephant, as well as my family crest and noble title!"

The corner of Liszt’s mouth twitched with a poorly suppressed urge to smile, but he maintained his superficial courtesy, refraining from letting out a laugh.

"If I may speak frankly, that is the least sincere promise one could possibly offer."

Duke Garawa froze, his countenance gradually clouding with a shade of displeasure.

"You…… You actually claim this lacks sincerity! Then tell me, what in your eyes constitutes a promise of sufficient sincerity?"

Liszt let out another faint sigh before explaining.

"Let me give you a very simple example. Conducting business within the Alliance requires nothing more than abiding by the law, and the law itself is a negotiable instrument. The Workers' Association can negotiate, the Consumers' Association can negotiate, and naturally, we can negotiate as well……"

Before Liszt could even finish his thought, a look of delight flashed across Duke Garawa’s face, and he broke in with impatient eagerness.

"We suffer from no such cumbersome complications!"

Beholding the unearned pride blooming upon the man’s visage, Liszt merely spread his hands in resignation.

"And therein lies the exact problem."

This fellow not only lacked those mechanisms, but he actually viewed such safeguards as mere nuisances.

He did not even realize that the more he flaunted his supreme, unbridled authority in that realm, the more deeply Liszt dreaded the absolute certainty that he could act entirely at his own whim.

The newly rich "new money" who had recently prospered in the Alliance might have lacked the experience, but an "old money" figure like Liszt—who had operated a substantial enterprise since the Boulder City era—knew all too well what it truly felt like to live as a dog.

Therefore, when the Administrator had invited him to live as a proper human being, he had discarded the black card he had bled to acquire without a single moment of hesitation.

Time had proven that he had judged the man correctly; that Administrator had indeed fulfilled every single promise he had made, and crucially, had done absolutely nothing extraneous beyond that.

The latter quality was the rarest and most commendable of all; Liszt was practically tempted to write "forever loyal to that great lord" into the very first pages of the genealogy he had recently begun to compile.

For this fellow to believe he could cajole Liszt into becoming a dog once more with nothing but a savory-looking bone was truly a gross underestimation of his character.

From the very first glance he had cast upon Duke Garawa, Liszt had discerned the truth: this man was cut from the exact same cloth as the inner-city nobility, and in fact, fell short even of them. After all, Lord Shide had at least maintained a shred of aristocratic restraint regarding the exercise of his power—such as refusing to personally step onto the floor to gamble for chips.

But this fellow practically had the words "I am the supreme law" stamped upon his brow. As submissive as he appeared today, he would undoubtedly ride roughshod over everyone tomorrow.

Engaging in commerce with such a partner meant one could never dream of bringing a single penny back home.

Even stepping back ten thousand paces, for a nascent market still in its absolute infancy, Liszt vastly preferred investing in a capable individual rather than the market itself.

And this man was transparently not the sort worthy of his investment; he merely happened to hold a massive hoard of resources in his grasp at this particular moment.

When dealing with someone destined for ruin at any unpredictable hour, Liszt far preferred a short-term transaction over any long-term commitment.

However, faced with Liszt’s entirely unmoved demeanor, Duke Garawa completely misread the situation, assuming that the other figure was once again interfering from behind the scenes.

Resentment gradually crept into his features, and he murmured in a low voice.

"So, it truly was that man who whispered something in your ear?"

Liszt blanked for a moment, and only after studying his expression for a good while did he catch a glimmer of the man's assumption. This time, he completely failed to restrain himself and burst into laughter.

"Mr. Garawa, I must ask you to understand that our Administrator does not particularly care how we conduct our private enterprises. He is far busier than you could ever conceive. If establishing operations in White Elephant City were truly profitable, we would naturally migrate there of our own accord…… But putting profits aside, I cannot even locate that particular settlement upon a map."

Come to think of it, his sole impression of White Elephant City stemmed from a column in a past issue of the Survivor Daily, which had reprinted a literary anthology titled "Red Soil."

Every available sign indicated that the region remained a destitute land dominated entirely by a plantation economy. And as all sensible men knew, there was no profit to be made in selling merchandise to cattle.

As for elevating cattle into human beings, that was the calling of men like the Administrator; one could hardly expect a mercenary merchant such as himself to undertake such philanthropy.

He was no Vault dweller, nor did he possess the slightest inclination toward charity.

Speaking of which, Golden Gallon Port had been developing quite well of late, and the local education standards had shown marked improvement. He was actually considering opening a branch factory there—perhaps to manufacture batteries, turbines, and inverters desperately required by the southern seas—but it remained nothing more than a tentative plan.

Far too many uncertain risks barred him from making a hasty decision.

A shadow of disappointment passed over Duke Garawa's face, yet he did not allow himself to be disheartened.

He consoled himself in his heart that Liszt had at least avoided a definitive refusal; perhaps the chips laid upon the table were simply insufficient, and the matter merely required further grinding……

Throughout the latter half of their polite pleasantries, both men tacitly avoided any further mention of commerce, choosing instead to sip their tea and converse lightly to cultivate their rapport.

Though he saw right through the schemes brewing in the Duke's belly, Liszt did not mind fostering a relationship with him, as it served as a useful window into the current state of the Brahma Province.

Once their meeting concluded, Duke Garawa courteously escorted him all the way to the embassy gates, turning back inside only after Liszt's vehicle had vanished around the street corner.

Meanwhile, ensconced in the rear seat of his private automobile, Liszt had already cast all thoughts of Duke Garawa entirely from his mind. He reached out casually to pick up the latest edition of the Survivor Daily his secretary had thoughtfully purchased for him beforehand, leafing through its pages.

The front-page headline detailed the current events of Coral City.

This pearl of the southern seas was presently the most fiercely discussed topic in Dawn City; countless citizens had specially booked flights to French Fries Port with the sole intention of boarding a submarine to catch a glimpse of the place.

Though the vast majority viewed it merely as a vacation resort or a scenic tourist haven, Liszt understood the true value inherent in that deep-sea domain.

The construction of Coral City had utilized an immense wealth of materials science and engineering techniques salvaged directly from the Heavenly Court. That subaquatic settlement was destined to become the Alliance's primary bridgehead for exploiting the space legacy of the Prosperity Era.

The Alliance's scientific expeditions and biological research institutes had already mobilized, and several capable private enterprises were steadily following in their wake.

If he could unearth something valuable from those depths and transform it into a commodity required by Alliance society, his own enterprise would undoubtedly ascend to an entirely new echelon.

Just as Liszt was turning these thoughts over in his mind, his eyes suddenly caught a rather inconspicuous piece of news situated at the bottom of the third page.

"……The Moon Clan resistance forces have entered Mammoth City, declaring their occupation of Mammoth State. Simultaneously, a spokesperson for the new authorities of Mammoth State contacted the editorial department of the Survivor Daily in Golden Gallon Port, publishing a declaration that Mammoth State shall stand as the first abolitionist state within the Brahma Province. The resistance leader, Laxi, stated their intention to abide by the unified manifesto championed by the Coalition, calling upon enlightened individuals across all regions to unite against the tyranny of the Empire."

Mammoth State?

What manner of place was that?

Liszt blinked in confusion, then reached for his tablet to consult the world map. He eventually located this particular stretch of land in the upper right corner of the "Zoo Province."

The Tasan River, a waterway vastly shorter than the Everflow River, emptied into the Brahma Sea from Mammoth State, while the opposite side of the Chobar Mountain Range held Silvermoon Bay, the shining jewel of the Sunset Province.

"The location is actually rather splendid," Liszt murmured with a chuckle, shaking his head gently. "A pity, then, that it is left in the hands of a band of natives."

If only the Baiyue Company could push a step further.

Musing thus in his heart, he turned to the next page, only to find that it contained further news regarding Mammoth State, likewise forwarded from the Survivor Daily (Golden Gallon Port).

According to the telegram sent by the resistance forces, the imperial army's deliberate destruction of the Tasan River dykes had inflicted severe disaster upon Mammoth State, leaving vast multitudes of survivors displaced and homeless.

The resistance leader, Laxi, declared that the resistance would never abandon the survivors of Mammoth State; they would exert every ounce of their strength toward disaster relief, while simultaneously expressing their hope that enlightened figures from all walks of life in Golden Gallon Port might assist them in rebuilding efforts and aid in settling a portion of the displaced populace.

Concurrently, the former governor of Mammoth State, Duke Bamut, had faced a public trial in the square of the Mammoth City dock district. He had confessed to all charges in open court, acknowledging that the destruction of the dykes was his personal directive, an act that had left a million survivors homeless.

Driven by the boiling fury of the populace, the resistance's temporary military tribunal had approved the execution of Duke Bamut by firing squad on the very day the trial concluded. Furthermore, eight resistance soldiers convicted of robbery and six convicted of rape were executed by firing squad alongside him.

When interviewed, Roger, the Secretary-General of the Golden Gallon Port Coalition, expressed his belief that this action demonstrated Laxi's fierce resolve to purge and discipline his military forces.

At present, intense debate persisted within the Golden Gallon Port Coalition regarding whether Laxi truly possessed the qualities of a qualified leader, though the majority of the Coalition's high-ranking officials maintained an optimistic outlook.

It was understood that Laxi had originally been born into slavery, and during the capture of Camp Lowell, he had similarly ordered the execution of soldiers under his command who had violently abducted local civilian women.

Some members of the Alliance had criticized his methods as overly crude, but afterward he clearly learned from the criticism, establishing courts and disaster relief offices, which was one reason the Federation’s high command felt optimistic about him.

According to this newspaper’s editor, over the past two centuries, countless civil wars had raged across Bolo Province, and after breaching settlements, allowing soldiers to loot was a customary practice, much like the raiders of Hegu, Jinchuan, and Yuema provinces imitating mutants’ cannibalism, while forbidding soldiers from burning, killing, and looting after taking a settlement was exceedingly rare…

“This guy’s got something.”

Having read the report to the end, a hint of intrigued amusement suddenly flickered across Lister’s face. He read the news from start to finish again, and the more he read, the more he felt this fellow was no simpleton.

His actions were full of clumsy imitations, with some rough improvements tacked on, but setting aside those crude methods, this man was far stronger than the one he’d just met.

Moreover, as a Moonfolk, this guy had taken a province of the Empire, which was like poking the Empire right in the lungs—Tiandu would never let him off.

To maintain the balance with the Legion, the Alliance probably wouldn’t interfere in Bolo Province’s situation, and the chance of direct military intervention was negligible.

And this Rasi, wanting to gain a foothold under the Empire’s very nose, would have to cling tightly to the Alliance’s coattails.

“Han Long, the chance to get rich has come.”

Seeing his boss’s delighted expression, Han Long, sitting in the passenger seat, was slightly taken aback and asked in confusion.

“Boss, didn’t you say Bolo Province wasn’t worth investing in?”

Flicking the newspaper in his hand, Lister said with a faint smile.

“That shows you didn’t understand what I told you. In emerging markets, what’s worth investing in is the people, not the market, because in such places, it’s usually people who play the leading role. A fool is certainly not worth investing in, but a strong man is worth a gamble.”

He paused, then continued.

“How about this: in a few days, you go with Qian Duo.”

Qian Duo and Qian Lai were his subordinates, who had followed him for a long time; he figured it was time to let them out for some training.

Han Long hesitated slightly upon hearing this.

“But… what about your safety?”

Lister laughed heartily.

“What safety issues could there be in Dawn City? You need to change your thinking—this place hasn’t been an ‘emerging market’ for a long time.”

…

Unlike the civil war in the southern seas, the Moonfolk resistance’s entry into Mammoth City was far less glorious and sensational than the South Sea Alliance’s entry into North Island, nor did it stir anyone’s nerves in the wasteland, even though the latter’s area was less than half the former’s.

Dawn City Television gave the event only brief coverage. When Legion Ambassador to the Alliance Benoit saw the news about Mammoth City, his first reaction wasn’t to call his allies but to grab a map and take a look.

When he discovered that godforsaken place was on Bolo Province’s east coast, separated from West Sailport on the west coast by several provinces, far outside the Legion’s civilian bureaucracy’s sphere of influence, he promptly set the matter aside and couldn’t be bothered.

The Hump Kingdom, right next to Mammoth Province, was a bit tense, mainly worried about a flood of refugees pouring into its territory.

The Hump Kingdom’s court was an enlightened theocratic monarchy, but no matter how enlightened, it was still a theocratic monarchy.

They could tolerate the Silver Moon Church’s new interpretations of orthodoxy, tolerate some heathen merchants bringing their cherished treasures, and even tolerate the Alliance stationing troops in Silver Moon Bay—after all, they had begged for that—but they could never tolerate heathens coming to the Spirit of the Sand Sea’s domain to beg.

On this point, the merchant nobles of Silver Moon Bay and the royal family were remarkably united, because if those beggars entered Hump Kingdom territory, Silver Moon Bay would be their first stop.

Multiple local chambers of commerce immediately sprang into action, contacting resistance leader Rasi on their own, expressing gratitude for his protection of the church and offering an interest-free aid loan of ten million silver coins under the guise of disaster relief.

Hearing about this good deal, Rasi readily agreed, even setting aside a “diocese” outside Mammoth City for those clerics.

In the diocese, aside from obeying the authorities’ laws, no taxes were due, and Silver Moon Bay residents could do as they pleased there.

That land had been barren anyway, lying idle, so it was better to toss it to those Silver Moon Bay devotees keen on colonization.

After all, Silver Moon Bay residents and Bolo Province locals had lived together for so long that the locals weren’t too averse to those business-savvy cat-lovers.

Once they developed it, he could think about whether to take it back or set a price and keep leasing it to them. At least in his view, these were all negotiable.

Just as the Rasi administration in Mammoth Province was expanding its army amid the disaster, using the floods to beg for money everywhere, and pushing through “new policies” with a heavy hand, the Empire suddenly realized that a huge chunk was missing from its four-million-square-kilometer map.

Inside the Tiandu palace, Wutuo hastily summoned his ministers and confidants for a closed-door discussion in the council hall.

The officials were frantic, scratching their heads and bickering, but none could come up with a plan.

Unable to stand it any longer, Prince Dilip stepped forward and ventured a question.

“How about ordering the local armies of Bird and Horse Provinces to converge on Mammoth Province from the west and south? The Moonfolk resistance’s foothold in Mammoth Province is unstable, and with the severe disaster there, once our army presses in, they’ll likely collapse on their own.”

Nihak was startled by this, and before Wutuo could speak, he quickly stepped forward to advise.

“Your Majesty! Absolutely not! The Tiger Army and Panther Army have become too big to handle! It’s easy to assemble the armies of Bird and Horse Provinces, but disbanding them would be a nightmare!”

Hearing Prince Dilip’s suggestion, Wutuo had been about to nod, but at Nihak’s voice, he broke out in a cold sweat, silently thanking his luck.

Seeing the shift in Wutuo’s expression, Nihak couldn’t help but wipe his own cold sweat, thinking how fortunate it was that he’d spoken quickly—a moment later and there would have been no turning back.

Pausing, ignoring Prince Dilip’s displeasure, he continued with his head bowed.

“Your Majesty, Mammoth Province is a minor matter; we must not lose our composure. If the thirteen provinces of Bolo all follow Tiger and Panther Provinces’ example and build up their own forces, the banks of the Eternal River will be engulfed in flames of war, and Bolo Province may well see a repeat of the chaos from a hundred years ago!”

“Then what do you suggest?” Prince Dilip glared at him and continued, “Are we to simply ignore Mammoth Province?”

“We must act!” Nihak raised his head, eyes blazing as he fixed them on Wutuo. “But under these circumstances, only the Central Army can do it! We need a victory to show the provinces our strength.”

He paused, then added.

“Let Alaiyang take the field!”

The hall erupted in uproar; the officials’ faces were a mix of shock and disbelief as they stared at this man who had been locked up by the Alliance.

Summon Alaiyang?

Wouldn’t that just repeat the disaster of Golden Garon Port?!

Even Wutuo, seated on the high throne, frowned at these words.

Before the nobles and officials could protest, Prince Dilip stepped forward, glaring at Duke Nihak, who was contradicting him.

“That man is nothing but a loser to the Alliance—how could he possibly be a match for Rasi!”

Duke Nihak said in a deep voice.

“Precisely because he has fought the Alliance, he knows how to deal with them!”

Prince Dilip was about to retort, “Then I’ve lost too, why not send me?” but quickly realized that would be digging his own grave, so he flushed red and changed tack, picking a different flaw.

“But if we move the Grey Wolf Army away from the Golden Garon Port border, won’t that let the Tiger Army and Panther Army control the entire frontier?”

Duke Nihak said with anguish.

“What difference does it make whether they stay there or leave? The officers the Legion trained for us have all been corrupted by those traitors! Better to take this chance to move those still loyal to us north, at least to keep the restless Horse and Bird Provinces in check!”

The Wolf people were the Empire’s most loyal warriors, and the Grey Wolf Army, as the Central Army, was the only non-royal force absolutely loyal to Tiandu.

As for the local armies, they had already proven their unreliability through their actions.

Unless the Empire could free itself to deal with the warlords of the Tiger and Panther Armies, mobilizing any local force now would only add fuel to the fire!

After hearing Nihak’s words, Wutuo fell into deep thought.

Though he was a novice in foreign wars, he had some insight into the Empire’s internal affairs.

“…Do as Duke Nihak says. Transfer the Grey Wolf Army to Mammoth Province to suppress the rebels. Also, Dilip, go to the capitals of Horse and Bird Provinces and tell the local nobles not to panic—they are only responsible for supplying the Grey Wolf Army.”

Prince Dilip, though reluctant, had no choice but to nod and accept the emperor’s command.

“As you command.”

Seeing that the emperor had not assigned him any task, Duke Nihak couldn’t help but speak up.

"Your Majesty, I too can share your burdens!"

Since returning from Golden Gallon Port, he had been idle for quite some time.

As a duke with only a title and no fief, if he remained idle much longer, he feared there would be no place for him in the court.

Seeing Nihake's eager expression, Wu Tuo was in no hurry, speaking slowly and deliberately instead.

"You have a more important task. I want you to take a ship to the Southern Sea and settle the loan matter I mentioned earlier."

Nihake was taken aback, not expecting His Majesty to suddenly bring up the Southern Sea affair here; his mind struggled to catch up.

Especially with such grave events recently, he had thought His Majesty had forgotten that matter, yet here he was still mulling it over.

"But Your Majesty... with rebels at hand, is it appropriate for us to do this now?"

Wu Tuo spoke dismissively.

"The bandit trouble is on the Tasang River, far from the Yongliu River. Besides, a bunch of grass bandits are just a flesh wound, nothing to worry about. The urgent task is to get the economy going."

Mammoth Prefecture was not a prefecture where the Moonfolk were the majority, and moreover, he had purged all Moonfolk in Bolo Province; those still alive were in farms or slave camps. Though he was anxious, deep down he did not believe a resistance army raised from slaves could stir up much trouble.

Besides, lately he had come to appreciate the benefits of wealth.

Especially after seeing the photos of the Ideal Grand Hotel taken by that fellow Galawa, he was green with envy.

His palace might float, but compared to the Ideal Grand Hotel's height, it was still far too short—no wonder the Verlanders thought little of his palace.

When the Empire had money in the future, he would have people from Ideal City come build him a summer palace that could touch the clouds.

But one must eat bite by bite, and dig at the wall bit by bit.

He could take advantage of the fact that the "War of Paradise" in Haiya Province was not yet over, and strike at the Southern Sea, which the Alliance could not attend to for now.

That was the safest place.

The Alliance was not the Legion; that Administrator had at least spoken of ending the wasteland. Surely they wouldn't send soldiers just because he was doing a little business there?

Once the Empire became the biggest creditor in the Southern Sea, that so-called South Sea Alliance would be Wu Tuo's dog, and even if the Alliance wanted to regret it, it would be too late.

Having laid out his plan, Wu Tuo's face was full of smug smiles, and the officials showed expressions of sudden enlightenment, praising His Majesty's wisdom.

Only the Finance Minister's smile was somewhat intriguing, or rather, carried a hint of grievance that could not be voiced.

Though Bolo Province was vast, there were many mouths to feed.

He thought lending Xilan currency to the Southern Sea was indeed a good idea to solve the cement glut, but this method of lending was a bit too much of a copycat.

What if they defaulted?

Could the Empire send a fleet to knock on their doors to collect the debt, or did it have large investments in the South Sea Alliance to offset the debt?

How to handle this bad debt would likely be a big headache.

If they were willing to cooperate, it would be fine—stringing a few zeros on the coral there as debt repayment would save face for both sides.

If they were unwilling, it seemed the creditor would have to be "magnanimous" about it...

At the same time the Empire was mobilizing to suppress the Moonfolk rebels, far away in the South Sea Alliance, interim President Li Minghui was fretting over labor shortages.

It was now the end of October.

The reconstruction of the northern islands had been underway for nearly a month, but progress had been slow due to insufficient manpower.

Baiyue Company's construction team was mainly responsible for projects like the North Island naval base and the ocean current power station, but the places needing reconstruction were far more than these two.

Thus, the South Sea Alliance faced an awkward problem.

Though their technological reserves were staggeringly abundant and they lacked no highly educated talent, they were severely short of laborers who could do the work.

Even if automation could solve part of the problem, that would have to wait until the ocean current power station and the advanced productivity of the islands were fully restored.

In short, distant water could not quench immediate thirst. What they needed now were not doctors and engineers, but a vast number of concrete pourers and brick carriers.

They didn't even need these people to be literate—just able to understand Common Speech.

Recently, French Fries Port had opened an immigration channel from Golden Gallon Port to the Baiyue Strait, and he was pondering whether the South Sea Alliance should also attract some immigrants.

But there were many problems with that.

The South Sea Alliance's Representative Assembly was far more xenophobic than the Alliance's Representative Assembly; distrust of outsiders was one of the islanders' natural traits.

Even Ring Island, the most pro-Alliance, had always opposed immigration, while caring not at all about the emigration of native survivors.

If he forced through a bill to relax immigration thresholds now, though it would help the South Sea Alliance's post-war recovery in the long run, it would set him against the South Sea Alliance survivors and against the Representative Assembly.

Why bother?

Counting on his fingers, he figured his term as interim president had only a few months left, waiting for the "War of Paradise" to end.

Having just won a splendid victory, Li Minghui now only wanted to avoid mistakes in his remaining term, finally return his authority as a hero, complete the last and most glorious page of his heroic epic, and then settle down as his navy commander until he was thoroughly retired.

When there was a war, he would go; when there was none, he would feed seagulls and blow up fish; when idle, he would go to the bar at French Fries Port for a little drink and boast.

His life had been exciting enough.

And that bastard Charlas would never hear drunkards praise his "achievements"—if that fellow were still alive, he would be mad with envy.

Li Minghui thought and thought, and finally came to understand: he really didn't need to frown in the last bit of his term.

But just as he had figured everything out and was about to toss the report aside, leaving all the thorny problems to his successors, a knock came at the office door.

Picking up his teacup, he took a sip of black tea, sat up straight, and cleared his throat.

"Come in."

The door opened.

In came his political secretary.

"Mr. President, someone is looking for you."

Li Minghui put on a concerned expression, interlacing his fingers on the desk.

"Who wants to see me? What about?"

Looking at the president who toiled diligently over all matters of the Southern Sea, the secretary spoke respectfully.

"It's a representative from the Mammoth City authorities. He says he can solve your urgent problem..."

Mammoth City?

Li Minghui was startled, instinctively reaching for a map of Baiyue Province to see when the Alliance had written a new recipe at his doorstep.

But the secretary, seeing this, coughed awkwardly and whispered a reminder.

"It's the other one..."