When he heard that the protesters had actually set fire to the printing plant, cold sweat broke out on Sindison’s forehead. It was nothing like the script he had prepared.

He could not bear to think what would happen if he fell into their hands. What terrified him more was that by now everyone probably knew he had been taken from the Highway Town Hotel.

In other words, they already knew who he was...

“I'll make compensation! I'll pay!” Sindison clenched his handcuffed fists and begged, “I'll pay double if you'll let me go... I promise I won't do this again!”

The interrogator chuckled coldly, shooting him a look of contempt. “Regretting it now? What were you doing earlier?”

The other interrogator mocked, “Incitement and sabotage is a public prosecution case, there’s no such thing as buying your way out of it. You can use monetary compensation to skip hard labor, but you’re not escaping a sentence of at least 10 years. Honestly, if you were really a spy, that might’ve been better, you could at least bargain for leniency. But you did something this stupid for a few million silver coins? Even if we wanted to give you a chance to redeem yourself, there’s nowhere to start.”

After wasting an entire night only to catch a small fry, both interrogators were full of frustration and vented it all on the man.

Seeing that pleading was useless, Sindison tore off his mask of false humility and shouted at the two interrogators before him, voice shaking with fear and defiance. “I’m a merchant of the Bugra Free State! I’m not your citizen! You have no right to arrest me! I-I demand to see your administrator!”

The two interrogators exchanged a mocking laugh at his outburst.

“You? See the administrator?”

“We don’t care where you’re from. Even if you were the relative of the Army’s Marshal, if you break the law on our land, you’ll still face justice.”

Sindison’s eyes were filled with terror, but he couldn’t help threatening them. “Aren’t you... afraid of causing a diplomatic incident?”

The interrogators both laughed loudly at the pathetic bluff.

“Diplomacy? What’s there to talk about with you people?”

“If you don’t like it, bring your army over and declare war on us!”

At those words, Sindison slumped back in his chair like a deflated balloon, his eyes filled with gray despair.

Of course the Free State wouldn’t mobilize for a small nobody like him. Even if his contacts outside could scrape together enough money to hire mercenaries, those ragtag fighters could never stand against the New Alliance’s army.

It was said that long ago, the spies of the Army in the Bugra Free State had hired mercenaries to attack the New Alliance’s northern frontier, and were crushed in the blink of an eye. Rumor had it that they hadn’t even faced the New Alliance’s regular army.

They simply weren’t on the same level.

It looked like this time, he really was going to prison...

...

Meanwhile, in the Great Rift Valley, in Origin City.

A man sat quietly in the reception room, gazing through the floor-to-ceiling window at the settlement below, his lips curling into a faint, mocking smile.

Decayed, desolate, oppressive, lifeless, like a drowsy sunset sinking toward the horizon. Every negative adjective he could think of fit the city perfectly.

This settlement known as Origin City had once been the first human settlement on the wasteland, even older than Ideal City on the East Coast.

But after the dissolution of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, its former glory had vanished. All that remained was a thin afterglow lingering over the barren yellow earth.

The city resembled an old man with one foot already in the grave, reeking faintly of rot and decay.

Yet when a man in a white robe, the chief secretary, stepped out of the inner room, the seated man immediately straightened his posture and nodded respectfully.

The chief secretary looked at him without emotion, his voice solemn. “Please, follow me.”

The man bowed slightly again, saying nothing, and followed him through the open door into a conference room with a long obsidian table.

An elderly man with white hair and beard sat at the head of the table.

He was the chairman of the Great Rift Valley.

The man bowed politely. “Honored chairman, what are your instructions?”

The old man did not answer right away. He spoke gently instead. “Please, sit.”

The man nodded, pulled out a chair at the far end of the table, and sat down.

His name was Odo, mayor of the Bugra Free State, a position equivalent to the lord of an ordinary survivor settlement.

The previous mayor had been impeached for secretly supporting the Army’s atrocities in the Sunset Province. Odo, his successor, was a staunch pro-Enterprise reformer, aligned with the Bugra Free State government push to model its government on the Enterprise’s administration.

Though many accused him of taking bribes from Sigma, the owner of Flintstone Group, to many citizens, he remained a charismatic and approachable leader.

The chairman at the table seemed to think the same.

Compared to the previous arrogant mayor who had cozied up to the Army’s expansionists behind his back, the humble young man was far preferable.

He was young, capable, decisive, with eyes bright and clear like a burning torch.

The old man did not like the Enterprise who had betrayed the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, nor did he agree with those rebels’ choices, but he acknowledged that there were things to be learned from them.

As Odo sat before him, listening respectfully, the old man finally spoke slowly. “I’ve heard the New Alliance has destroyed the Hive in Clearspring City. They seem to be a newly formed young faction, led by the administrator of Shelter 404.”

Odo nodded respectfully. “I’ve heard the same.”

A pleased smile spread across the old man’s wrinkled face. “It seems you have not forgotten your mission. I’m glad. Mutant Slime Mold has been one of the greatest threats on this wasteland. Over the years, we tried many methods, but sadly, even until the Post-War Reconstruction Committee disbanded, we never truly eradicated it...”

Odo listened respectfully, though in his mind, he felt nothing but disdain and impatience.

To him, the war two centuries ago had already been stupid enough, a bunch of zealots wrecking two worlds over some incomprehensible faith, dragging everyone else into suffering. The current state of things was even more stupid. It was utterly beyond saving.

These old fossils refused to take their failures and shame into the grave. Instead, they droned on, lecturing the young on how to live.

To be blunt, Odo didn’t care about the Mutant Slime Mold. He had no interest in worrying about the wastelanders beyond his borders, and no idea why anyone should care whether they lived or died.

Wouldn’t it be better if they all just died? If everyone out there died, the wasteland would cease to exist.

Still, seeing the old man’s smile of approval, Odo forced himself to agree out of politeness to gain his support.

“... It truly is a remarkable achievement. There’s much we can learn from them.”

The old man nodded slowly, his clouded eyes gazing kindly at the young man before him. “I’m pleased to hear you say that... Let’s keep this short. I fear I’ll drift off again if I’m not careful, and your youth is too precious to waste waiting on an old man like me.”

He paused, then continued softly, “I’d like you to do something for me.”

Odo sighed inwardly.

Here we go again.

Yet he kept his respectful expression and tone humble. “Please, go ahead.”

The old man continued slowly, “You and they are both survivors of the River Valley Province. But I’ve noticed you’re not on friendly terms. That is unwise. I hope you can build better relations and cooperate more on problems faced by all humanity... Now would be a good opportunity.”

Odo froze for a moment, then revealed a bitter smile. “We are not opposed to cooperation, but whether they’d be willing is another matter.”

Just like always, the old man gave advice without understanding the situation.

The Bugra Free State and the New Alliance were competitors. Their diplomatic relations had never been friendly and were often tense.

Never mind building friendly ties, with their strategic outlook, the New Alliance wasn’t even a worthy partner.

Their very existence was a mistake.

The Bonechewer Clan should have destroyed everything in the south and central of the River Valley Province, burning a path south for the Bugra Free State’s expansion, a fire to clear the way for those unwilling to dirty their hands.

The former mayor had even planned to link up with the Army’s eastern expansionists at Clearspring City.

But because the New Alliance had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, their plan was ruined. They had sheltered refugees, crushed the Bonechewer Clan and the Army’s expansionist faction, and turned all those billions in investment into smoke.

Odo might not share the former mayor’s pro-Army stance, in fact, he was ideologically opposed, but if there was one thing they agreed upon was that both longed for true freedom.

The survivors of the Bugra Free State did not want to be puppets dancing over a grave.

Yet whether they sought help westward or eastward, the New Alliance entrenched in the south of the River Valley Province was their greatest obstacle.

Odo wished the New Alliance would explode into fireworks the next day. The idea of cooperating with those wastelanders on an issue they didn’t even care about was absurd.

They would rather talk to the Torch Church on the Death Coast in the South!

But such things could not be said, nor would saying them matter. The old man was far too old. He couldn’t listen anymore; he didn’t care about what anyone else cared about. In his clouded eyes lived only fading illusions and an impossible longing for the past.

His greatest sin was that he had lived too long.

Humans weren’t meant to live so long anyway.

“Still, you should at least try, shouldn’t you?” Unaware that the young man before him was cursing him silently in his heart, the old man smiled faintly and continued gently. “Go and try. Think of it as an assignment I’m giving you. If you pass this test, I’ll increase your energy quota for the next five years by 15%. Of course, if you fail, I’ll regretfully have to raise energy prices for the next three years. I hope you understand this is my way of encouraging you, it’s necessary supervision.”

The Bugra Free State had its own solar, wind, and geothermal power plants, but renewable energy alone couldn’t sustain an entire city’s consumption.

The Great Rift Valley supplied more than 70%of Bugra Free State’s energy, a key reason their sleepless city could rise in the wasteland.

After more than 10 generations, the old man no longer understood how the younger people thought, nor how to speak to them. But using energy as leverage had always worked well.

A century and a half ago, the poor needed energy for fire and warmth. Today, their descendants needed it for comfort and luxury.

No matter how they used it, in his mind it was the same. Rewards and punishments kept the children motivated. It was a method that had never failed him.

After all, the heritage was theirs, he was merely guiding them.

And just as the old man expected, the young man slowly lowered his head and said respectfully, “I’ll remember your words. We’ll give it a try.”

A gratified smile appeared on the old man’s face. But he failed to notice that as Odo bowed his head, he had also clenched the fist hidden beneath the table...

That humiliation...

Someday, he would repay it tenfold.