They had successfully deceived the Ministry of Defense and the North Carolina Government, making everyone believe the Poisonous Sore Gang was repelled and Rusted Iron City had won the battle to defend itself.

In reality, however, Rusted Iron City’s top officials and government staff, two Hand of the Empire squads, over seventy Government Army soldiers, and the Counter-Terrorism Department’s elite Special Agent Brady had all been brainwashed. They were the ones who had won the battle, pulling off a masterful substitution to become the secret controllers of Rusted Iron City.

"How are the wounded?" the Plague Doctor asked, looking at Catherine.

"The dozen or so who were seriously wounded have all been stabilized. The lightly injured should be able to leave the hospital after a few more days of recovery. The twenty-one who were killed in action have been buried... It was all thanks to Siegfried this time. Otherwise, the casualties would have been much higher," Catherine said earnestly.

The Poisonous Sore Gang’s plan had been leaked by a traitor, so the Government Army was well-prepared. At the time, Catherine had thought they would lose a third, or even half, of their forces. She never expected that with Siegfried’s help, not only would the plan proceed with incredible smoothness, but their casualties would also be drastically reduced.

More importantly, their cover was intact. Since the Poisonous Sore Gang had been officially "annihilated," no one would ever suspect that they had usurped the city. With puppets like Sidelong providing cover, they could lie low and build their strength for as long as they needed.

It was a perfect victory, beyond all expectations.

"What about Siegfried?"

"Still sleeping. He overexerted himself severely and will need to rest for a while."

The Plague Doctor nodded. "Give him the best of everything. Even if he doesn’t want to join the Poisonous Sore Gang, we need to stay on good terms with him. Make him our friend. It’s always better to have one more friend than one more enemy."

"Did you get the files on the Crystal Disease?"

Catherine shook her head. "Rusted Iron City hasn’t conducted any research on the Crystal Disease. Sidelong said his superiors ordered them to ignore it, so he did. The Star Association, however, released a report stating that the Crystal Disease is a fusion-type Abyssal virus that evolves and mutates at an unimaginable rate."

"A short while ago, the Star Association released the Rain of Life, and no new cases of Crystal Disease have been detected in regions outside of North Carolina. But the disease hasn’t been eradicated in North Carolina because its rapid evolution has allowed it to develop a degree of immunity to the cure... Now, most people have simply adapted to it. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing."

"...And the doctor from the Nameless Clinic? Is there still no news?"

"None. She probably hasn’t left the city, but we can’t find her anywhere. I learned through an intelligence channel that her real name is Calia. She’s a Tier Three Ascender and a former core member of the ’Ninth Ward.’ After living in the Chaotic Zone for so long, her skills in disguise must be formidable. It’s also possible she secretly slipped out of Rusted Iron City a while ago."

"Call off the search for now," the Plague Doctor said. "The Poisonous Sore Gang needs to lie low for a while."

After taking care of these miscellaneous matters, the Poisonous Sore Gang’s meeting began. They had much to do, and it all required detailed planning.

·

After the meeting, the Plague Doctor went alone to the rooftop of the city hall building to overlook the city.

Like the other Poverty Cities in North Carolina, Rusted Iron City was filthy and chaotic. A palette of gray was its one constant theme.

A thick haze blanketed the entire sky, a vast, oppressive sheet of gray. The air quality in the Poverty City had always been poor. Countless factories had been built here, spewing tons of pollutants into the air every day. Inside these factories, sweatshop laborers toiled at the most arduous jobs for meager wages, constantly inhaling toxic fumes. Over time, their bodies developed a host of ailments, and most didn’t live past forty.

The Plague Doctor gazed up at the sky. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the bright Sun or the brilliant Stars. It had been so long he’d nearly forgotten how beautiful they were.

He stood there, lost in thought for a few minutes. When he blinked, a figure in a black robe had appeared beside him without any warning.

"We’ve won a major victory," the Plague Doctor said calmly. "Rusted Iron City is ours now, and officially, our cover remains intact."

"I’m aware," the Black-robed Man replied, his voice equally devoid of emotion. "I attacked City 27 last night. Destroyed seven or eight factories and killed many Ascenders, including four at Tier Three."

"...Are you trying to one-up me?" the Plague Doctor asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"I am merely stating a fact," the Black-robed Man said flatly.

His entire body was shrouded in a wide black robe, and his face was a patch of utter blackness, as if veiled by a roiling dark mist. The Plague Doctor could clearly feel a pair of sharp eyes from within the Darkness, sizing him up.

"You’re close to Tier Three. Do you want my help?" the Black-robed Man asked.

"No, I can manage on my own." The Plague Doctor shook his head, then gestured toward the Black-robed Man. "Besides, I don’t trust the Wish Box. That’s not a good thing to mess with. None of its previous owners have met a peaceful end."

"With enough Power, even the most evil of things can be made to serve you. As for a peaceful end... that’s a distant dream for most people, to say nothing of people like us."

The Black-robed Man paused. "You said someone wanted to see me?"

"Yes. A promising talent. He was the key to this operation’s success. His Ability is unusual; I can’t figure it out. He asked to see you by name, though I don’t know why. But he’s still unconscious from Essence depletion. Can you wait a while?"

"No." The Black-robed Man refused flatly. "I have too much work to do. If there’s nothing else, I’m leaving."

"I have one last question for you, then."

The eyes beneath the Plague Doctor’s mask fixed on the other man. "Are you Havier?" he asked gravely.

The Black-robed Man didn’t answer. They stood in silence for a long time before the robed figure vanished on the spot.

’Does that count as an answer?’ the Plague Doctor mused.

·

「Jinzhu.」

Zhou Chen lay motionless on his bed, his consciousness currently in the Round Table Hall.

Within the solemn and dignified Round Table Hall, Zhou Chen, shrouded in white mist, was lost in contemplation.

’I’m really turning into a cult leader,’ he realized.

Not long ago, Zhou Chen had a flash of inspiration and granted the Prayer System to the people he had brainwashed. The results exceeded his expectations. These people were workhorses, completely loyal to him. While maintaining their original personalities, they went around frantically doing good deeds and granting wishes. In a single night, his Prayer Points skyrocketed. Combined with what he had already saved and his other recent earnings, the total blew past the ten-thousand mark.

[Prayer Points: 10346]

’Holy crap...’

’I’ve discovered a whole new way to play this game,’ Zhou Chen thought. ’It’s just that this new method is a little... sinister.’

’This is exactly how an Evil God brainwashes innocent humans, forces them to work for him, and builds an Abyss Church!’

’This is the Abyssal Evil Gods’ playbook!’

’But then again, brainwashing is just so damn useful.’

’These people have become slaves, completely loyal to me. They’d never question the "Lamp God." And they’re dirt cheap, too—they don’t even use any of the Prayer System’s functions...’

’It’s like suddenly getting a group of incredibly capable subordinates who don’t need to eat or drink, don’t take a single cent in wages, and just work for you for free out of pure loyalty.’

Zhou Chen sighed to himself. ’If I had even fewer scruples and just brainwashed everyone I met, I could probably ascend to become a Crowned King in just a few months...’

’Hmm... I’ll call this group "interns." I need to recruit more... Even though I’m a model youth with an outstanding moral compass, this is just too tempting. And it just so happens that North Carolina is such a scenic place with such "simple, honest" folk... a place people call "Little Gotham." I won’t feel much guilt brainwashing the scum there...’

’Right now, the Round Table Hall has 72 full-time employees and 253 interns. That’s quite a few, but it’s still not enough for me.’

’Let’s set a small goal. Before the end of February, I’ll recruit 150 full-time employees and... 500 interns?’

With six days left until the end of February, Zhou Chen felt this small goal wasn’t hard to achieve. In a place like North Carolina, gangsters and thugs were a dime a dozen in the slums. Would he really have to worry about finding new "employees"?