CHAPTER 843: CHAPTER 843: THE FLAMES OF AMBITION

On the north side of West Sail Port, a dense crowd stood at the checkpoint.

On one side were Vellante soldiers, and on the other side were Poluo Country soldiers. Both sides stood on their respective borders, with about two hundred Vellante civilians in between.

These civilians were the survivors of the West Sail Port massacre, and they were also the parents of those children in the Silver Moon Sect Church.

Now that the Tianwang army had scattered, the bandages wrapped around people’s arms were finally gone. The Absek authorities had severed ties with the Southern Legion’s leadership; their life and death no longer affected the bigger picture, and these poor people finally dared to step out of Count Sharma’s manor.

The soldiers of Poluo Country escorted them all the way here.

Ironically, these soldiers in gray uniforms were the same ones who not long ago wore bandages on their arms, searching everywhere for Vellante people and the "lackeys of Vellante."

However, the past had already been put behind.

Vellante people became Vellante gentlemen once again, and these bandaged soldiers appeared much gentler than before, as if genuinely distancing themselves from the past.

As for when they might again bare their teeth at Vellante or other people on the Wasteland, it depended on what their masters said next.

Absek harbored a sliver of hope for a ceasefire, especially since the battle hadn’t even begun yet.

Seeing those "back from the dead" people, nearly all the Vellante soldiers present widened their eyes in disbelief.

Everyone thought they were already dead.

But unexpectedly, they were still alive!

The relatives of these survivors were even more emotional, tears overflowing.

Some people covered their mouths, trying hard not to let their cries escape. Others ignored everything and crossed the checkpoint, excitedly rushing forward.

"Margaret!!"

Upon seeing that face, worn and heartbreaking, the usually strong Yarman instantly had reddened eyes.

He crossed the checkpoint, rushed to his wife, and held her light body tightly in his arms, not letting go, mumbling incoherently.

"By the Silver Moon Goddess... you’re alive! That’s wonderful! I... Ruby and I thought we’d never see you again!"

Margaret’s eyes were equally red, her nose constantly sniffing, forcing a smile through her teary face, even comforting him in return.

"...I’m okay now, really okay... when did you start believing in the Silver Moon Goddess?"

Yarman spoke rapidly.

"After I learned you were still alive! I swore to her if you were safe, I would build ten churches for her... I swear I will spend the rest of my life on this!"

Watching her husband speak earnestly, Margaret had a tearful, beaming smile.

Perhaps...

It really was the manifestation of the Silver Moon Goddess.

Mr. Melgio mentioned that a divine miracle of the Silver Moon Goddess had descended upon this church, a young girl with cat ears... he decided to start a newspaper because of the deity’s decree.

"...Then you must keep your word, I’ll supervise on behalf of her."

Releasing her from his embrace, Yarman cupped her tear-stained cheeks, gazing into those gem-like bright eyes.

"I promise you!"

He was unwilling to look away for even a moment.

As if everything before him was just an unrealistic dream, and once awakened, everything would return to its beginning.

However, Margaret didn’t let him hold onto her forever, as their daughter crawled out from under the checkpoint.

"Mama!!"

A soldier nearby wanted to reach out and stop her but was held back by Officer Peter, who shook his head.

"Let her go... What could possibly happen with everyone watching?"

The soldier hesitated but nodded, directing his gaze toward the joyful hair bouncing around.

"Yes..."

For Yarman, less than twenty meters was just a matter of a few steps, yet Ruby had run for a long, long time.

Halfway there, she couldn’t hold back the tears in her eyes, allowing them to fall.

Margaret opened her arms to meet her, lifting her daughter and running her fingers through her hair, holding the small body tightly against her chest.

"Ruby!!! I’m sorry... Mama made you worry!" Her voice held a hint of remorse; regardless of her reasons, she had ultimately deceived her by leaving under the guise of death that night.

But her lovely daughter wasn’t angry with her and even forced a brave smile through her tear-stained face.

"Ruby... didn’t cry!"

Though she said this, the tears kept falling, and due to the quick breathing, she let out an involuntary hiccup.

Feeling the warm tears sliding down her neck, Margaret’s heart ached, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

"Yes! My Ruby... is the best child in the world..."

Watching the reunion of mother and daughter, Yarman’s face displayed a content smile.

To him, they were his angels, his light, and his everything...

As for power, wealth, or land under the sun, they were nothing more than mayflies in the pond, insignificant compared to the safety of family.

Ishiel, dressed in gray military attire, walked up beside him, glanced at the ready Vellante soldiers in the distance, then at the father, grinning.

"Congratulations, sir, Mr. Yarman... you and your family are finally reunited."

"Also, someone asked me to pass on a message from a person called Far-sighted Eagle; he hopes your cooperation remains effective... It’s just that he’s currently overwhelmed with duties, so it’ll take a few more days to come. He hopes you can implement your plan in advance."

"Please convey to him that I won’t forget our cooperation; in fact, that plan has already started," Yarman looked at the Poluo Country soldier, sincerely continuing, "And... thank you for bringing my wife back."

Ishiel smiled.

"No need to thank me... I don’t have that ability; it’s hard enough just to survive myself."

Though he said that, there was still a sense of pride in his heart.

Though he couldn’t save the whole city, saving 200 was still something.

He wasn’t an Awakener.

Nor was he Bol.

"...Also, a piece of advice, no matter how much money your business can make, leave here as soon as you can, if possible."

Looking at the group of soldiers across the border line, Yishel smiled faintly.

"Days as friendly as this won’t come often in the future."

Although he didn’t speak outright, Yarman could understand the deeper meaning behind those words.

He’d observed the Southern Legion’s deployment at West Sail Port during this time.

Especially after hearing those words from the old nun, he had some awareness of the impending events... There might be a more painful tragedy on this land than the previous disaster.

"I am a Weilante and I will not shirk my responsibilities. I will do my best to prevent the worst from happening..."

After pausing for a moment, Yarman continued in a sincere tone.

"Even if I fail, I will still do my best to help more people leave this hell."

"Very well, then skip the meaningless struggles and use all your strength to do the final thing."

Yishel abruptly interrupted his grand statement, looking at him in shock and continued.

"... no one can stop a train speeding downhill, just as no one can stop a balloon that’s lost its line. We can only let it crash and shatter against the hard rocks at the mountain’s bottom, or let it drift into the cosmos, self-exiled."

Yarman was stunned.

"What is this?"

Yishel answered without hesitation.

"Words from ’Awakener Bol’."

"Does that book have such a line?" Yarman said with a puzzled expression.

During the time he waited for his wife to return home, he’d read that book, and reread it several times.

What he did not expect was that a small place like Giant Stone City could produce such a heartrending story.

In fact, there were several similar survivor settlements in the western part of the Central Plains Continent during the early Wasteland Era, mostly built with the support of the War Construction Committee.

However, over the past century, with the collapse of the War Construction Committee, most of these settlements were erased from the map in the name of revenge by the Army.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but think, if those settlements were still alive and could continue providing them with experience, knowledge, and more support, perhaps they wouldn’t have become so utterly frantic as they are now...

Looking at the silent Yarman, Yishel chuckled, his rough hand stroking his stubble.

"No such phrase? Then let’s just say it’s a margin note left by some obscure little figure for this book."

If nothing unexpected happens.

Next should be the era belonging to Mr. Stephen... oh no, belonging to the ancestors of Mr. Stephen.

It should also be a glorious era where they build their own wall in the barren wilderness.

’Awakener Bol’ is the story after that; now is the time for ’Mouse Tribe Yishel’.

Yishel only recently discovered this.

He is a person living in the prequel of ’Awakener Bol’, and he might even be the ancestor of "Mr. Stephen", the one living in the ancestral teachings of Mr. Stephen.

A pity.

He probably won’t see his idol in this lifetime, that ghost haunting above his descendants, not him.

However, he is not as pessimistic as the other mice.

He still believes that the light of truth will one day shine across this land.

It’s just that waiting for the sun to rise takes some time.

Fortunately, this time the dusk before nightfall is not as cold as before.

It seems that day won’t be too far off.

Yarman took a surprised second look at the officer, his gaze gradually becoming solemn with respect.

Poluo Province does not lack capable people.

They are in no way inferior to the survivors of River Valley Province or other Weilante people.

Yet in feeling admiration, he couldn’t help but be puzzled, why a group of smart people would walk an ever-narrowing path.

They were not supposed to be like this...

...

Amidst the reunion of over two hundred survivors embracing with their families, General Ross came over, surrounded by a team of soldiers responsible for defense in the area.

Yishel, also a Thousands of leaders, stared at him, feeling a tingle of fear from the overwhelming killing intent.

Unlike himself, who was a halfway joiner.

This guy is a real officer, tested by blood and fire!

Nevertheless, Yishel forced a friendly smile on his face, nodding politely.

To his surprise, the man nodded back, acknowledging his friendliness.

He walked straight to Count Sharma and his old butler, Sahadu.

Seeing the two nervous individuals, Ross suddenly bowed deeply.

"On behalf of my soldiers and myself, I thank you for saving these people in their time of difficulty."

Count Sharma looked at him in shock, not expecting a Weilante to bow to him. Until the old butler tugged at his sleeve, he suddenly snapped back to his senses, hastily saying.

"General, what are you doing?! I only did what any normal human would do, unworthy of such a grand gesture from you... please, lift your head."

Ross didn’t listen to his words, merely bowing deeply for a full minute before lifting his head and continued seriously.

"...If the two countries go to war, I swear to you, our soldiers will not enter your estate, even if some cowards hide inside."

Standing by and listening, Yishel slightly narrowed his eyes, a hint of chill in the gap, but said nothing.

Even if both sides were a single gunshot away from war, he had to continue playing the good guy.

At this point, Ross turned his attention to a man and woman standing behind Count Sharma.

One of them was his niece, Penny, who was smiling with satisfaction, watching the reunited survivors.

Next to her was presumably that Pangolin.

The one promoted by the Eastern Legion and eventually borrowed by the Civil Official Group, an Eastern native.

Ross slightly squinted, observing the man for a moment before looking back at his niece, speaking in a serious tone.

"Penny, come over to my side."

Hearing her uncle’s call, Penny was about to go over but noticed the expression on his face and hesitated, stopping in her tracks.

"Ross... Uncle?"

"Hurry up! Now!"

Ross didn’t offer any explanation, simply beckoning her over, but the urgency in his expression made it impossible for Penny to move her feet, forcing her to look pleadingly back at Pangolin behind her.

Seeing the expression on that leader’s face, she guessed something was up, and the battlefield atmosphere group walked over to Penny, whispering softly.

"Listen to your uncle, go over... Remember, the whole matter has nothing to do with you; you are just a war reporter."

"Your duty is not to fight alongside me, but to take back what you see, take it back to Triumph City... that is your war."

Penny’s eyes widened, staring at him blankly, her trembling lips seemingly questioning why... why he was being treated like a criminal after clearly doing the right thing, saving over two hundred survivors.

The battlefield atmosphere group knew what she wanted to ask but didn’t know how to answer.

Not everything in this world can be simply defined as good or bad, and not all things have a standard answer.

Right and wrong are just the scales in people’s hearts, and this scale never belongs to an abstract collective.

Especially when this issue involves multiple collectives.

In fact, when he received the order from Bennott, he was already prepared, even thinking about the charges that might be laid against him.

One task could earn two payments.

Such good fortune seemed too good to be true...

As if understanding his gaze, Penny struggled with her expression for a long time before finally lowering her head and walking to her uncle’s side.

Gesturing for his personal guards to take her back to the settlement to rest, Ross turned his attention back to the man named Pangolin.

The latter looked at him with equal composure, his warm smile carrying a hint of leisurely calm.

There was suddenly a touch of appreciation in Ross’s gaze.

"You’re very brave."

The battlefield atmosphere group humbly smiled.

"That’s natural... I’m not boasting, but if I told you about the things I’ve done and seen, it might scare you to death."

Ross’s smile was skin-deep, with his mouth twitching as the visible warmth of his smile quickly cooled.

"Mr. Pangolin, you betrayed the Marshal."

The battlefield atmosphere group slightly smiled, their expression also turning cold.

"Quite the opposite, it is you who betrayed the Marshal with your obstinacy. While we are exhausting our efforts to end the Wasteland Era, you are holding us back, even risking innocent lives to wage a war for your selfish desires!"

Ross looked at him with a sneer.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. At least from my perspective, it is you who endangered those citizens. Your arrogance, naivety, and stupidity put those innocent people in danger."

"We do not deny the mistakes we’ve made in the past, that’s why I’m here," the battlefield atmosphere group looked at him. "And what about you? Do you dare to admit the role you played in this chaos and the crimes you’ve committed?"

Ross slightly furrowed his brows but quickly relaxed them.

"It seems you have a lot to say; you’d better save it for the military tribunal and explain it to the judges who will be judging you."

The battlefield atmosphere group faintly smiled.

"It doesn’t matter, I will appeal all the way to Triumph City."

"You may do so. And please understand, arresting you is not my decision but an order from General Giulion... The Southern Legion’s highest command has authorized him full operational power in the Poluo Province area," Ross gestured to the ready soldiers beside him and pointed at Pangolin, "Take him away."

Seeing the armed soldiers approaching, the battlefield atmosphere group did not resist, allowing them to cuff him but brushed off the hand placed on his shoulder.

"I can walk; I don’t need your support."

Those who survived the slaughter in Luo Xia Province and Haiya Province had an aura of malice as thick as blood plasma, making the soldiers trying to escort him shiver.

It felt as if standing before them wasn’t a person but a fierce, bloodthirsty Variant.

Seeing his subordinates looking at him, Ross did not trouble the proud Pangolin and merely waved his hand.

"Let him walk on his own."

He disliked the lagging civil officials, considering them a disgrace to the Weilante people. But he had a good impression of this young man, even if the guy was an outsider.

There might indeed be more to this situation than he understood; his instincts told him something was off.

But he did not care.

He always obeyed his superiors; his superior’s stance was his stance, even if it led to a dead-end, he would walk down it proudly...

The soldiers who arrived at the checkpoint with Ross soon regrouped, leaving only a dozen sentries on duty.

The same goes for the Poluo side.

The leader named Yishel took everyone away, fearing staying too long might spark a conflict with the Army.

Watching the direction Mr. Pangolin was led away, Margaret tightly held her husband’s hand, whispering in his ear.

"That man and that girl... they saved us all. I can’t just leave him be."

Also watching the departure, Yarman gently squeezed her hand, speaking in a reassuring tone.

"Darling, trust me, I won’t let him be..."

Once back, he would join the citizens of West Sail Port to petition the Governor’s Mansion, sending a joint telegram to Triumph City!

He couldn’t believe it!

That such a big matter could go unaddressed!

"... Never mind those scoundrels’ dirty dealings, West Sail Port isn’t even a colony of the Southern Legion, their court has no authority here!"

"Even if they want a trial, it has to be in Triumph City’s court!"

...

As the surviving Weilante people felt indignant over Pangolin’s plight, the slums of West Sail Port seethed with equal indignation.

Yet, their outrage wasn’t about Pangolin’s situation, but the ruthless suppression of the Family Meeting by the port authorities.

It was definitely suppression!

For those gang elements causing trouble—those guys with rat tattoos on their arms, clearly no good—the patrolling soldiers merely raised their hands but let them go easily, not even bothering to teach those thugs a lesson with a baton.

For those poor people who came together to protect themselves, the soldiers gave them a fierce warning, as if protecting their own rights was a heinous crime.

Zayed’s keen insights were indeed spot on, pointing out that those gang members and the Vellante people were in cahoots!

The gangs resented them because the Family Meeting, which didn’t charge gang fees and even taught literacy for free, disrupted the market!

Meanwhile, the Vellante people feared their solidarity, so they teamed up with those gangs, tripping them up, accusing them of being spies for the Alliance, and suppressing them severely.

But when you calmly think about it, this seemingly logical argument is riddled with flaws.

For instance, simply comparing the Dinars that end up in the pocket one can see the truth.

The wages from the docks vary from one gang to another; the management standards, commissions, and benefits also differ, making direct comparison challenging. But generally, the rule "the number of people is proportional to the premium" holds true.

The more people a labor agency has, the stronger bargaining position it holds with employers.

There’s no such thing as a larger gang getting a smaller premium simply because they’re more united.

There are certainly some astute people who notice some discrepancies, but most of them tacitly become green Family members, or even higher-level Family members — those who are responsible for lecturing.

In its early days, the Family Meeting had lots of vacant positions. If you used a little bit of your mind, you could become a "district agent," which was much more rewarding than hefting sacks at the dock.

While most were still fixated on their meager salaries, these wise people had already moved to the second tier.

Instead of exposing these clumsy tricks, they would help Zayed refine his theories.

For instance—

Those unscrupulous Vellante people had no bottom line, teaming up with other gangs to suppress the Family Meeting.

In this way, the tedious question of "Why do we earn fewer dinars when obviously doing the same work?" could be rationalized.

This is precisely where Zayed’s brilliance lies.

Though he wasn’t some amazing expert and faced disdain from numerous capable people, he certainly saw through the survivors of Poluo Province.

The smart people here love nothing more than treating others as fools while pretending to be confused themselves. Little did they know, as they muddled through, they too convinced themselves, only to find it too late once they finally awoke...

Sitting in the shack, Eugene finished bandaging the injured laborer and saw Zayed standing at the door.

The look suggested he had something to discuss with him.

He put the bandage back in the medical box, followed Zayed out the door, and stood in the moonlit alleyway.

After walking with Zayed for a bit, he halted and broke the silence between the two.

"Sometimes I don’t understand what you are trying to do, or why you’re doing these things."

Zayed sighed softly.

"I haven’t thought that much; I just want to give those poor people a home."

Eugene chuckled softly.

"You have many family members, but you are the one I understand the least."

"Oh?"

"I don’t know how to describe it," Eugene sat on a nearby step, sighed, and said, "I just feel... maybe you should change your approach. We’re not in a rush for you to achieve immediate results. Even if you cooperate with guys like List, I think it would be great."

Zayed remained silent for a while, then sat beside him and said softly.

"Mr. List looks down on us. Deep down, he’s inherently arrogant. Unlike you, who is willing to stoop down to help us and guide us. When he judged that our risks far outweighed the benefits we could bring him, he couldn’t even be bothered to hear me out and shut me outside the door."

He paused and continued.

"But you, your door was always open to me, even someone as humble as dust. You never gave up on me, always willing to provide me with opportunities to introduce myself again and again."

Eugene smirked self-deprecatingly.

"Being turned away sounds like something List would do. But you don’t need to uplift me... his achievements are recognized by the entire Alliance, and I don’t measure up to a figure like him."

"You’re too modest," Zayed shook his head, "When we succeed, I’ll have a statue erected in your honor, and millions will thank you for extending a hand to us."

Eugene paused, then said with a laugh.

"That’s unnecessary..."

Just as he finished speaking, a light flickered in the darkness not far away.

As he focused his gaze, he saw flames wrapped in thick smoke shooting into the sky.

"The fire has started!!"

"Hurry! Put out the fire!"

Watching everything unfold, Eugene was stunned, his expression drastically changing, and he sprang up from the ground.

It was the Family Meeting’s registration place!

Where he had just bandaged those injured laborers!

"Damn it!"

He cursed under his breath and dashed back in the direction he had come.

Watching the rising flames and Eugene rushing to put out the fire, Zayed also paused for a moment, but in the end merely chuckled softly and shook his head.

"These rat bastards really don’t hold grudges overnight. They can’t even wait a single night... hehe."

The Black Rat Gang had suffered a loss and surely wouldn’t swallow their pride; they’d undoubtedly find a way to retaliate.

This inability to amount to something lies exactly in this; they’re always driven by emotion.

If that previous beating earned them sympathy from a few streets, then this fire should be enough to make them "stars" in West Sail Port.

The Army will surely step in.

And they will definitely take action before the war that sweeps through Poluo Province, using iron-fisted methods to punish all who are unruly!

These people are not judges who settle cases. Their style has consistently been to make an example through severity.

Rumor has it that Guryang is inherently brutal, unrestrained in achieving his goals, and this aligns perfectly with his intentions.

He will carry this prepared offer of allegiance to a much broader stage.

Zayed dusted off his pants as he rose from the steps, walking in the opposite direction of Mr. Eugene.

"Vassa, it’s time to set off!"

Though he felt a bit sorry for the survivors of West Sail Port, it was all for the future of Poluo Province...